“The older I get, the more stupid I feel,
I don't know what's going on…
The harder I try, the less people I please…”-Joe Jackson, “Flying”, 1994
Life can be socially complicated and difficult enough for the average adult in America.
Figuring out what is considered acceptable and appropriate behavior when interacting with others can often be tricky even for a normal, neurotypical person - someone with no mental or emotional disabilities. What is thought of as the right thing to do or say one day can suddenly be thought of as the wrong thing to do or say the next day.
For an adult with Asperger's Syndrome, however, trying to behave and conduct oneself in a manner that's considered appropriate and acceptable is often akin to someone having to make their way through a wilderness without a compass and while having never been outside, or being thrown into the Pacific Ocean and not knowing how to swim.
I know this is so, for I am in my early 40's and I have Asperger's Syndrome - a high functioning form of autism that affects social interaction, usually in a negative way. It involves such things as obsession with certain topics, difficulty making friends, and alienating people by saying inappropriate things.
When I discovered that I had this disorder in early 1996, it completely explained the social struggles that I had had throughout my life.
It explained getting bullied and picked on as a kid and being shunned and ignored as a teenager and young adult. It explained my obsessions with certain things, like maps, baseball caps, Robin Hood, and the Peanuts comic strip, as well as a lack of maturity in certain social situations.
Most of all, it completely explained why I was woefully behind my peers in life's social milestones; people were getting married, buying SUVs and houses in the suburbs, having children and successful careers and generally enjoying life, while I was still living with and being supported by my mother, which is seen as complete retardation in American society.
I thought that people would cut me some slack and life would be a bit easier for me as a result of this discovery, especially when I let them know about my condition, namely employers, co-workers, acquaintances, and even the few friends that I had. I certainly did not intend to keep my being an “aspie” - short for Asperger's - a secret.
Unfortunately, that turned out to not be the case...
For the past six years, my life has socially been more difficult, especially in the workforce. And having Asperger's has had a fairly big part in that.
I do fully admit that my mistake was thinking that if people in the workplace (and other places), particularly supervisors, knew and understood about my AS (Asperger's) condition, they would be more able to overlook my social shortcomings, focus on my strong points such as my sense of dedication, responsibility, and knowledge of my job, and accept me for such strong points.
However, I never really understood that people don't have to overlook my bad points and accept me anyway. Or even care. That their only concern is whether I can do the job their way and blindly follow orders, regardless of whether or not I agree with them. Since "digging in" to one's ideas and being resistant to change, particularly sudden and unexpected change and direction, is an AS trait that I have, it has led me to quitting or being fired from six jobs in the last five years.
Quite a pathetic record in any walk of life.
Now I know what some people may be thinking right about now That if I just worked a little harder in those areas that I struggled in I could have overcome such shortcomings and be able to keep a job.
I used to feel the same way, which was a big source of frustration, depression, and a sense of failure every time I was told that my services were no longer needed.
Then I remembered a conversation I had with a special education coordinator at a school I worked at one day, when I mentioned that a couple of students with Asperger's needed to work a little harder to meet behavior standards. She said, "Working harder doesn't work."
That pertained to those kids, and as time went on, it certainly pertained to me. And continues to. I should know - I tried "working harder" for the bulk of my adult life, and it hasn't gotten me to where I want to be. Not even close. In short, that coordinator was SO right.
As frustrating as my workplace failures were, an even bigger source of depression has been - and remains - the fact that certain individuals throughout my life have shown a hostility towards me for my social awkwardness; shunning me, telling me to shut up while merely expressing myself and exercising my free speech rights, things such as that.
