An Introduction And Guide To Asperger Disorder

davidbanner99@ wrote:The cause of autism?

Consider childhood vaccines.

davidbanner99@ wrote: I heard about the floods in Germany and Belgium and it seems climate is altering.

Consider weather warfare by way of weather modificaiton, which has been in use for decades.

I imagine I could "read" hubby after some time studying his interaction. To see the level of his connection with others in his company. You need to watch someone in a group. I must say that most troubled people I met seem to connect better in groups than I do. If I met you in person and we chatted in a group of 4 people, you would unknowingly treat me as if I was some random cat. I would fade from your awareness. How hubby would react would tell me much. If he included me in the collective, that would be odd.
The level of connection you should be able to estimate. If he looks remote and distant in a group, talking into the air, that shows weak contact. More so, if ignored like a child. I have indeed threatened to run a streak across my local shop floor to see if a spontaneous naked dash might "raise awareness" I somehow exist.
One to one conversation with me is almost normal. However, it may be very one sided.

davidbanner99@ wrote:If he looks remote and distant in a group...

Yes, that.

One to one conversation with me is almost normal. However, it may be very one sided.

You sound like my husband. He too appears to be unaware that a one-sided "conversation" is a monologue.

Candid wrote:

davidbanner99@ wrote:If he looks remote and distant in a group...

Yes, that.

One to one conversation with me is almost normal. However, it may be very one sided.

You sound like my husband. He too appears to be unaware that a one-sided "conversation" is a monologue.

If he's remotely similar to me, you have done well. There must be something of value in your relationship that compensated for the hurdles. Autism conditions tend to put huge strain on families and make relationships difficult. I fear in my own case I am too "far gone" to stand any chance of connection with another. Literally years of emotionally based conditioning passed me by totally. Worse still, use of my time to cram knowledge altered my intelligence from being mediocre (aged 20) to hyper-analytical. Every time my aunt phones, I find it flat boring to have to answer mundane, existential questions. As to surrounding people, they appear to me programmed robots whose reactions and thoughts you can predict with boring accuracy. I wait to see just one individual toss aside the hammer and nails and decide to learn TM or,say, tightrope-walking. The catch 22 for me is that had I never suffered autistic withdrawel, today I would be socially liked but would just be a carbon copy of everyone else. This is the huge point that distinguishes Hans Asperger from 99.9 per cent of psychiatrists. I think he was very aware of the autism=individuality ingredient. Also, I think the way the masses blindly accepted the Covid spin the same as the naked King in his invisible suit, shows what can happen where extreme individuality is absent. People will simply copy the prevailing view.
It may well be your husband feels in some ways as I do. He is, however, fortunate to have someone in his life despite the heavy odds against. My guess is he finds you easier to relate to than average people. I can only suggest you attempt to calmly explain your difficulties but also try and discover the degree of his contact to family life. Knowing how I tend to suffer might help you relate to the problem. I really hope you both find happiness together again rather than be in my boat. I was only ever closely bonded with my German Shepherd dog and he died 4 years ago. Since then I have struggled.

davidbanner99@ wrote:There must be something of value in your relationship that compensated for the hurdles.

His computer head and organisational skills sometimes come in handy, since I'm numerically challenged myself. And on rare occasions he shows understanding if not empathy.

I suppose the main thing is knowing he's fundamentally a good man who does what he can for other people.

Every time my aunt phones, I find it flat boring to have to answer mundane, existential questions. As to surrounding people, they appear to me programmed robots whose reactions and thoughts you can predict with boring accuracy.

Funny thing is, what you say about these robots is what I say about my husband. The program for the week is the program for the week.

We'd been out yesterday morning and when we got home I made lunch for myself. His lunch was pre-prepared (by his mother, but I don't want to get started on that) so I asked if we were to eat together. Then I realised it was 12:30 and said: "You have to wait until one o'clock, right?" and of course that was it.

I wait to see just one individual toss aside the hammer and nails and decide to learn TM or,say, tightrope-walking.

I'd be happier if my husband just learned to notice me and get it that I'm random. I eat when I'm hungry and don't when I'm not. Trouble is, sharing a small space with someone on a fixed schedule makes that hard. In fact it reminds me of the year or so when I shared a house with a woman on the Pill, which you may know means a predictable cycle. I wasn't in a relationship at that time, therefore not taking the Pill, and to start with we were as far off as you can be. Because of the well-known entrainment of women living together, I had to "catch up". I wish this were avoidable, but it isn't. I felt like hell most of the time until we were in synch.

In the almost 20 years I've lived with my husband, I've fought this with everything I have. I don't want to be more like him. When a woman friend informed me I'd changed—"You even talk like him now"—I immediately knew it was true. It's a horrible feeling, like my mind is no longer my own. He can't change. He can't even learn. So I have to accommodate him until there's no room for the me I used to be. When he's here I wait for him to go out, and when he isn't here I no longer seem to know what to do with myself.

My guess is he finds you easier to relate to than average people.

He's come up trumps for me like the traditional knight in shining armour when I've been out, got into difficulties, and deliberately hadn't told him where I was going. These have been very rare occasions, but one thing I'm certain of is that he'll always be on my side, right or wrong. For a long-time family scapegoat such as I am, that's gold. BUT the fact that he consistently tries to boss me about means I spend a lot of time resisting, even to my own detriment.

I can only suggest you attempt to calmly explain your difficulties...

Done that. It's not even in one ear and out the other; it doesn't register at all.

... but also try and discover the degree of his contact to family life.

Not sure what you mean by that. We're living in his town, with his mother too close for my comfort, and where he still has occasional contact with friends from his schooldays. The only life I have away from him and a full complement of cousins, aunts and uncles is the life I have in my head. That's familiar territory, because without my once-rich inner life my family of origin would have driven me insane. Actually they did once, but I bounced back fast (I was still in my 20s) then got a long way away from them.

Mess with my inner world and you've got trouble on your hands. He's done that and continues to do that, and with a combination of age, lethargy and coronahoax, I feel trapped.

I was only ever closely bonded with my German Shepherd dog and he died 4 years ago. Since then I have struggled.

I certainly get that! A nine-year relationship with a dog I took in as a stray was the most psychologically helpful one of my adult life. There's nothing quite like unquestioning adoration, is there!

My own routine is very rigid. I make my first cup of coffee for the day, lie on the bed and open my theoretical books. This I call my "warm up period" and must be done. Out comes the calculator. Today it was resonant reactance equations with L.C. tank circuits. The idea is to cram data, attempt alternative equations and keep asking questions.
Part of this stems from childhood OCD where I would have to carry out rituals that would protect me. I might have had to close a door 100 times till it felt right. Objects had to be lined and not angled. These days the illogical rituals have been substituted by knowledge cramming. My Indian female friend calls it my "numbers" routines.
Once I warm up and feel I absorbed detailed data, I go to my local shop and chat with staff who know me. One of the women jokingly calls me "bonkers" but is used to me now. The rest of the day, I cram maths, diagrams and graphs.
Around 18.20 I do my exercise program on the bike. Later I go shopping and end the night cramming psychology.
I am then allowed to watch a dvd to unwind from the deep study. This may be Dallas or The Bionic Woman or just a movie. Recently I discovered one little known symptom of my condition is nostalgic thinking where you live in the past. For me, that is true. Most people are now past who shot JR.
However, there is more: Part of my rigid routine is under study. Intellectually I recognise this systematic absorption of data is part of the disorder Asperger and Kanner described. Asperger claimed the thought-processes he studied were very individualistic and unorthodox. Not more intelligent as such but more different perspective. Very often I was able to make maths work using different methods, often based on ratios. In autism patterns show up like red lines. It became a case of doing my routine but almost popping out of myself to analyse what was happening in the context of psychology. Why the emphasis on rigid routine?
Why the urge to cram and force data?
Are the thought processes mechanical or genuinely analytical and are they motivated by some concrete goal?
In my case, there is normally no goal at all but just a routine that constantly switches from one equation to another.
I guess this is a bit similar to Rain Man although his memory was phenomenal.

I should add this obsessive pattern of routine is becoming unsustainable. It places me in another world entirely where cleaning and even cooking is rushed. Soon the night routine will begin: Cup of coffee, read psychology essays, watch film and eat my regular chocolate with cappuchino drink. Sometimes my friend from India phones if she's not working.

It's funny, I exhibit some of those behaviours as well. I have a lot of "stuff" in my bedroom—in fact, everything I own—and I can lay my hand on anything very quickly. I too like things to be lined up and might be described as pathologically tidy. It occurs to me now that I've recreated my teenage bedroom but with hundreds more books and of course a computer on the desk where there used to be a typewriter.

Also, I have a routine, but my best days are when I don't sit at my desk in my dressing-gown until I get the urge for lunch, then after lunch pick up whatever book I'm currently reading.

Husband has the larger of the two bedrooms (intended as a living room in our very small flat) and fewer possessions because a lot of his stuff is still at his mother's. We spend evenings there watching TV.

All that isn't much different from your routine, except in degree. The last psychologist I consulted tested me for aspergers and said I wasn't, although I exhibit a lot of those traits.

I never took to Dallas but I'm a recent convert to Friends, and with my TBI messing up short-term memory I think I'm on my fourth run through on Netflix and it still makes me laugh. This is when He's gone off for his bath. Luckily I'm a morning shower person, although since the coronahoax started it's been more like mid-day or even mid-afternoon.

In autism patterns show up like red lines. It became a case of doing my routine but almost popping out of myself to analyse what was happening in the context of psychology. Why the emphasis on rigid routine?

Almost everyone has a routine of some kind. We figure out the best way of doing something new and integrating it into the existing routine. This is why older people are described as "set in their ways". Mine being a mature marriage, both of us were "set in our ways" when we met.

As a side note, it was my second marriage but his first. I left him in great haste once and we had no contact for more than four years, although I thought of him every day and was not remotely tempted to have an affair. It was the head injury that brought me back. I was extremely muddled, and within weeks of coming out of hospital I realised I could no longer use my pushbike for getting about. It was a long slog on foot to get to the nearest supermarket and of course I had to shop more often because the bike basket carried more than I could.

Two months after the accident I realised I was helpless living alone. I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that my husband wouldn't have started another relationship. Unlike me he'd attempted it, that being a male/female divide, but as he put it, "no woman would look at me". So when I made contact he went to the other side of the world to bring me back.

How can you leave someone who did that, with no recriminations? He's stopped asking if he can put my suitcase up in the roof, because under my bed it's good for storing rarely-used things. For decades I've slept with my big old suitcase under the bed, except for when I've slept on floors.

You mentioned living in the past. I call my autobiography Flight Risk because in the structuring of it I realised I've had 62 addresses. Obviously a lot of them were very short hops, but I counted hotels only when I had no street address to return to. Sometimes there was stuff stored with friends elsewhere, often there wasn't; just the suitcase and me.

So when you write of living in the past, I think it's inevitable when there's more past than future, and when the present lacks the glow of memory.

Science refines things into ever smaller units, and "new" pathologies crop up all the time. For instance, PTSD was recognised (chiefly in the military) a long time ago, whereas I believe the attempt to get Complex PTSD recognised is still going on. To me there's a world of difference between a one-off and often impersonal trauma, and repeated trauma from a primary caregiver that sets people up for lifelong relational problems PLUS the inability to act on clear warning signs that puts sufferers into dangerous situations. (Panic and freeze, in my case.)

Aspergers is a tough one, too. My simplification is that people like my husband, and like you, have so much going on in your heads that routine is the vital background and interruption to it is experienced as chaos. It's all a matter of degree, from people like Daniel Tammet through Kim Peak to the classic Rain Man who can't function alone in the world. Six years after my TBI I exhibit the symptoms of dementia. I'll walk into a room then stop dead, not knowing why I went there. I'm losing names of people I know well, of films and of stars, place names, and things my husband says he's now told me three times. I have to make notes for myself, or leave something out of position so I remember I need to do a particular thing. In conversation, if I make an aside I almost always lose the point I wanted to make.

I've accepted that I'm never going to be a best-selling author (OUCH) and I'm writing Flight Risk so that when my memory's gone altogether I'll know where I've been, who was around at the time, high points and low points, why I moved on again. Incredibly tedious for anyone else to read (like my enormous rambling posts here), but I actually believe I'll be able to read and write to the end. I've told my husband, who swears he'll never put me into a nursing home, that if I cease speaking altogether he should hand me a notebook and pen...

Candid wrote:It's funny, I exhibit some of those behaviours as well. I have a lot of "stuff" in my bedroom—in fact, everything I own—and I can lay my hand on anything very quickly. I too like things to be lined up and might be described as pathologically tidy. It occurs to me now that I've recreated my teenage bedroom but with hundreds more books and of course a computer on the desk where there used to be a typewriter.

Also, I have a routine, but my best days are when I don't sit at my desk in my dressing-gown until I get the urge for lunch, then after lunch pick up whatever book I'm currently reading.

Husband has the larger of the two bedrooms (intended as a living room in our very small flat) and fewer possessions because a lot of his stuff is still at his mother's. We spend evenings there watching TV.

All that isn't much different from your routine, except in degree. The last psychologist I consulted tested me for aspergers and said I wasn't, although I exhibit a lot of those traits.

I never took to Dallas but I'm a recent convert to Friends, and with my TBI messing up short-term memory I think I'm on my fourth run through on Netflix and it still makes me laugh. This is when He's gone off for his bath. Luckily I'm a morning shower person, although since the coronahoax started it's been more like mid-day or even mid-afternoon.

In autism patterns show up like red lines. It became a case of doing my routine but almost popping out of myself to analyse what was happening in the context of psychology. Why the emphasis on rigid routine?

Almost everyone has a routine of some kind. We figure out the best way of doing something new and integrating it into the existing routine. This is why older people are described as "set in their ways". Mine being a mature marriage, both of us were "set in our ways" when we met.

As a side note, it was my second marriage but his first. I left him in great haste once and we had no contact for more than four years, although I thought of him every day and was not remotely tempted to have an affair. It was the head injury that brought me back. I was extremely muddled, and within weeks of coming out of hospital I realised I could no longer use my pushbike for getting about. It was a long slog on foot to get to the nearest supermarket and of course I had to shop more often because the bike basket carried more than I could.

Two months after the accident I realised I was helpless living alone. I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that my husband wouldn't have started another relationship. Unlike me he'd attempted it, that being a male/female divide, but as he put it, "no woman would look at me". So when I made contact he went to the other side of the world to bring me back.

How can you leave someone who did that, with no recriminations? He's stopped asking if he can put my suitcase up in the roof, because under my bed it's good for storing rarely-used things. For decades I've slept with my big old suitcase under the bed, except for when I've slept on floors.

You mentioned living in the past. I call my autobiography Flight Risk because in the structuring of it I realised I've had 62 addresses. Obviously a lot of them were very short hops, but I counted hotels only when I had no street address to return to. Sometimes there was stuff stored with friends elsewhere, often there wasn't; just the suitcase and me.

So when you write of living in the past, I think it's inevitable when there's more past than future, and when the present lacks the glow of memory.

Science refines things into ever smaller units, and "new" pathologies crop up all the time. For instance, PTSD was recognised (chiefly in the military) a long time ago, whereas I believe the attempt to get Complex PTSD recognised is still going on. To me there's a world of difference between a one-off and often impersonal trauma, and repeated trauma from a primary caregiver that sets people up for lifelong relational problems PLUS the inability to act on clear warning signs that puts sufferers into dangerous situations. (Panic and freeze, in my case.)

Aspergers is a tough one, too. My simplification is that people like my husband, and like you, have so much going on in your heads that routine is the vital background and interruption to it is experienced as chaos. It's all a matter of degree, from people like Daniel Tammet through Kim Peak to the classic Rain Man who can't function alone in the world. Six years after my TBI I exhibit the symptoms of dementia. I'll walk into a room then stop dead, not knowing why I went there. I'm losing names of people I know well, of films and of stars, place names, and things my husband says he's now told me three times. I have to make notes for myself, or leave something out of position so I remember I need to do a particular thing. In conversation, if I make an aside I almost always lose the point I wanted to make.

I've accepted that I'm never going to be a best-selling author (OUCH) and I'm writing Flight Risk so that when my memory's gone altogether I'll know where I've been, who was around at the time, high points and low points, why I moved on again. Incredibly tedious for anyone else to read (like my enormous rambling posts here), but I actually believe I'll be able to read and write to the end. I've told my husband, who swears he'll never put me into a nursing home, that if I cease speaking altogether he should hand me a notebook and pen...

Will respond later. Today I made an effort to write the 2nd part of my Asperger guide, which I forwarded here. It may help you apply it to hubby.
That was a whole day typing. I think it is quite clear and easy to follow. Might help you.

Candid wrote:It's funny, I exhibit some of those behaviours as well. I have a lot of "stuff" in my bedroom—in fact, everything I own—and I can lay my hand on anything very quickly. I too like things to be lined up and might be described as pathologically tidy. It occurs to me now that I've recreated my teenage bedroom but with hundreds more books and of course a computer on the desk where there used to be a typewriter.

Also, I have a routine, but my best days are when I don't sit at my desk in my dressing-gown until I get the urge for lunch, then after lunch pick up whatever book I'm currently reading.

Husband has the larger of the two bedrooms (intended as a living room in our very small flat) and fewer possessions because a lot of his stuff is still at his mother's. We spend evenings there watching TV.

All that isn't much different from your routine, except in degree. The last psychologist I consulted tested me for aspergers and said I wasn't, although I exhibit a lot of those traits.

I never took to Dallas but I'm a recent convert to Friends, and with my TBI messing up short-term memory I think I'm on my fourth run through on Netflix and it still makes me laugh. This is when He's gone off for his bath. Luckily I'm a morning shower person, although since the coronahoax started it's been more like mid-day or even mid-afternoon.

In autism patterns show up like red lines. It became a case of doing my routine but almost popping out of myself to analyse what was happening in the context of psychology. Why the emphasis on rigid routine?

Almost everyone has a routine of some kind. We figure out the best way of doing something new and integrating it into the existing routine. This is why older people are described as "set in their ways". Mine being a mature marriage, both of us were "set in our ways" when we met.

As a side note, it was my second marriage but his first. I left him in great haste once and we had no contact for more than four years, although I thought of him every day and was not remotely tempted to have an affair. It was the head injury that brought me back. I was extremely muddled, and within weeks of coming out of hospital I realised I could no longer use my pushbike for getting about. It was a long slog on foot to get to the nearest supermarket and of course I had to shop more often because the bike basket carried more than I could.

Two months after the accident I realised I was helpless living alone. I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that my husband wouldn't have started another relationship. Unlike me he'd attempted it, that being a male/female divide, but as he put it, "no woman would look at me". So when I made contact he went to the other side of the world to bring me back.

How can you leave someone who did that, with no recriminations? He's stopped asking if he can put my suitcase up in the roof, because under my bed it's good for storing rarely-used things. For decades I've slept with my big old suitcase under the bed, except for when I've slept on floors.

You mentioned living in the past. I call my autobiography Flight Risk because in the structuring of it I realised I've had 62 addresses. Obviously a lot of them were very short hops, but I counted hotels only when I had no street address to return to. Sometimes there was stuff stored with friends elsewhere, often there wasn't; just the suitcase and me.

So when you write of living in the past, I think it's inevitable when there's more past than future, and when the present lacks the glow of memory.

Science refines things into ever smaller units, and "new" pathologies crop up all the time. For instance, PTSD was recognised (chiefly in the military) a long time ago, whereas I believe the attempt to get Complex PTSD recognised is still going on. To me there's a world of difference between a one-off and often impersonal trauma, and repeated trauma from a primary caregiver that sets people up for lifelong relational problems PLUS the inability to act on clear warning signs that puts sufferers into dangerous situations. (Panic and freeze, in my case.)

Aspergers is a tough one, too. My simplification is that people like my husband, and like you, have so much going on in your heads that routine is the vital background and interruption to it is experienced as chaos. It's all a matter of degree, from people like Daniel Tammet through Kim Peak to the classic Rain Man who can't function alone in the world. Six years after my TBI I exhibit the symptoms of dementia. I'll walk into a room then stop dead, not knowing why I went there. I'm losing names of people I know well, of films and of stars, place names, and things my husband says he's now told me three times. I have to make notes for myself, or leave something out of position so I remember I need to do a particular thing. In conversation, if I make an aside I almost always lose the point I wanted to make.

I've accepted that I'm never going to be a best-selling author (OUCH) and I'm writing Flight Risk so that when my memory's gone altogether I'll know where I've been, who was around at the time, high points and low points, why I moved on again. Incredibly tedious for anyone else to read (like my enormous rambling posts here), but I actually believe I'll be able to read and write to the end. I've told my husband, who swears he'll never put me into a nursing home, that if I cease speaking altogether he should hand me a notebook and pen...

Bear in mind diagnosis of Asperger's is complex and your specialist could well struggle to identify it in you. That's why I'm typing up a guide.
First harsh fact to get to grips with is Lorna Wing (who brought Asperger's research to The UK) had disagreed with Hans Asperger. I thought that was a problem because Asperger was both more experienced and better informed. His reaearch spanned 10 years in Vienne.
In my view, Wings introduction of a spectrum inevitably led psychologists to get confused. The same disorder Asperger detailed had been successfully detected in the USSR, without the problems experienced in the UK and U.S.
I met scores of people diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome but simply saw few (if any) of the core symptoms. And really, it isn't that hard to spot as the person stands out. My best friend was strongly affected by it but you could see straight away how awkward he was. Flat unemployable but very intellectual, plus childish.
If you can get Asperger's essays it's not a big read. Just reading the case histories gives a good idea. You can see if it relates.
When I was on Asperger forums years ago, there was a belief that somehow "being an aspie", as they put it, meant you were smarter than neurotypicals and a cut above the rest. Asperger never stated this at all. He referred to compensation factors and altered perspective. What most experts agree is you need a "dash" of autism and not the full dose. For me, the full dose forced me to study for hours to make up for missed education. Aged 20 my intelligence level was pretty low all around, except for language. I was too slow to hold down any job and not even that nice a person (low emotion). The geniuses are normally those who have a good dose of autism but can still function normally. I mean, Einstein married and was balanced, whereas his son went psychotic and died in a mental ward. Einstein's wife had Asperger's.
Main thing is if a person has this condition it needs a lot of patience from others around and also effort by the sufferer to try and manage the more negative sides of this pathology.

I liked the bit about "husband" figuring no woman would look at him twice. That is a deep issue in itself.
I don't consider myself remotely attractive to anyone. In my younger years, to compensate my very poor social skills, I took up bodybuilding. Abuse in childhood led me to want to be bigger and stronger than others. Mike Tyson said he reacted the same way. So, I trained hard and flexed in front of the mirror, imagining muscle and bulges would make girls "notice me". They did not. I think even socially able bodybuilders don't attract women through muscle. Anyway, I recall meeting Schwarzenegger's co-stars in Pumping Iron, and chatting to Robby Robinson.
These days, there's an improvement. I talk to women very easily and very relaxed. I feel deep down it's far easier now I don't have to try and date or "chat up". Usually women don't see me as a serious proposition and some treat me like a child, offering sweets and making me sandwiches. In some cases, I developed something close to friendships. All the muscle I lost, especially as increased wisdom taught me bodybuilders have a lot of heart attacks. Far better to do cardio and live clean.
So, I remain far less shy and more myself but very single. Not wanting to be cruel to myself but I'd advise any good female friend I have to forget anything deeper. Any intimacy for me is just not natural - although I learned to hug my German Shepherd. Then, of course, my employment record is atrocious with endless dismissals. Most women want a wage bringing home, chance to go on holiday together, make a nice home and mingle with friends. Sad isn't it? It has been this way for decades although there are a few consolations: That is, a lot of relationships are like partnerships and not deep. Often they break up. Also, I think there are those worse off with cancers or brain damage, so I think you just live with the hand you are dealt. As Forest Gump said, "My momma always told me life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get!"

davidbanner99@ wrote:Bear in mind diagnosis of Asperger's is complex and your specialist could well struggle to identify it in you.

I'm not about to go looking for it!

I have none of the classic signs of aspergers. The majority of my difficulties stem from Complex PTSD, for which I have both symptoms and very obvious causes.

there was a belief that somehow "being an aspie", as they put it, meant you were smarter than neurotypicals and a cut above the rest.

Aspergers has also been seen as smarter in some ways, completely ineducable (routine fixity) in others. My husband definitely fits this. I don't. I've had a variety of jobs, can learn to fit in anywhere I choose to be and make friends easily. He on the other hand has never been able to hold a job for any length of time, chiefly because he can't be told what to do.

I was too slow to hold down any job and not even that nice a person (low emotion).

This is obviously a big problem. I can see my husband overcompensating for his inability to form close relationships, but somehow he always gets it wrong. He expresses sadness that if he didn't contact his old schoolfriends he'd be left completely out of the loop, but he seems incapable of learning how to get along with them. He buys me things (chiefly books and clothing) that demonstrate how little he knows me but which he's so delighted with that I think I can't throw them out.

I'm sorry to see you describe yourself as "not even that nice a person". Believing ourselves good people who occasionally behave diabolically is the healthy human position.

if a person has this condition it needs a lot of patience from others around...

No kidding! And of course those others have troubles of their own—every adult does—and will occasionally erupt at the need to be "patient" with someone who's so effective in so many ways yet won't budge an inch on the behaviours that either build relationships or alienate people.

... and also effort by the sufferer to try and manage the more negative sides of this pathology.

It's left to the two women who love my husband—his mother and me—to make endless accommodations to what looks like blank refusal to learn the simplest relationship lessons. His mother has no choice, he being her only child. I do, and I've exercised it more than once.

davidbanner99@ wrote:Most women want a wage bringing home, chance to go on holiday together, make a nice home and mingle with friends.

Yes, of course we do—especially when we're bringing in a pay packet ourselves.

Sad isn't it? It has been this way for decades...

Since cave days, my friend. For some reason I've never been able to fathom, most women want to make babies. Only the wealthiest of them can hold executive positions and care for babies, so the majority need a trustworthy partner who's okay with them staying at home for a few years. It infuriates me that this has given rise to the shaming "gold-digger" label, usually applied post-divorce.

Your best bet would be among women who have been so badly brutalised that they don't want babies, will tolerate almost anything, and are accustomed to grafting for themselves. There are a lot of us about, especially on the many Complex-PTSD websites.

As Forest Gump said, "My momma always told me life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get!"

Ain't that the truth?

Given the choice, many of us would have preferred not to have been born. That's a shout-out to all young women wanting to make babies: you aren't doing anyone any favours. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/perso ... being-born

Candid wrote:

davidbanner99@ wrote:Bear in mind diagnosis of Asperger's is complex and your specialist could well struggle to identify it in you.

I'm not about to go looking for it!

I have none of the classic signs of aspergers. The majority of my difficulties stem from Complex PTSD, for which I have both symptoms and very obvious causes.

there was a belief that somehow "being an aspie", as they put it, meant you were smarter than neurotypicals and a cut above the rest.

Aspergers has also been seen as smarter in some ways, completely ineducable (routine fixity) in others. My husband definitely fits this. I don't. I've had a variety of jobs, can learn to fit in anywhere I choose to be and make friends easily. He on the other hand has never been able to hold a job for any length of time, chiefly because he can't be told what to do.

I was too slow to hold down any job and not even that nice a person (low emotion).

This is obviously a big problem. I can see my husband overcompensating for his inability to form close relationships, but somehow he always gets it wrong. He expresses sadness that if he didn't contact his old schoolfriends he'd be left completely out of the loop, but he seems incapable of learning how to get along with them. He buys me things (chiefly books and clothing) that demonstrate how little he knows me but which he's so delighted with that I think I can't throw them out.

I'm sorry to see you describe yourself as "not even that nice a person". Believing ourselves good people who occasionally behave diabolically is the healthy human position.

if a person has this condition it needs a lot of patience from others around...

No kidding! And of course those others have troubles of their own—every adult does—and will occasionally erupt at the need to be "patient" with someone who's so effective in so many ways yet won't budge an inch on the behaviours that either build relationships or alienate people.

... and also effort by the sufferer to try and manage the more negative sides of this pathology.

It's left to the two women who love my husband—his mother and me—to make endless accommodations to what looks like blank refusal to learn the simplest relationship lessons. His mother has no choice, he being her only child. I do, and I've exercised it more than once.

It seems there is hope for yourself and "husband". I think where I differ enormously from other high-functioning autistics is I made the leap of "relativity". It happened only months ago after years of confusion. That is, an ability to see myself as others see me and, thereby, understand why relationships are so remote. Pretty much all HFA people never make this leap of relativity but it is possible to do. For me, it was a matter of stepping outside myself and using observation. Also observing other people. For me the main core symptom is emotional blindness and the fact my brain somehow resonates differently. The emotions that get trapped and bottled up within are mostly negative. That is, always feeling I did something wrong or feeling alienated. Fact is the connection just isn't there and to get an idea of that you should watch Herk Harvey's 1962 Carnival Of Souls, with Candice Hiligoss. She plays the role of Mary Henry, who is left with no connection to the world. Despite getting a job as a church organist, she loses the job on account of not being able to "feel" what the congregation value.
So, I now pretty much understand how all of this functions. The problem is the process of intellect over-riding emotional functions goes on over years. We have to draw on intellect to try and function socially. At this point I fully understand how I'm supposed to smile and show interest, keep to the chosen theme, not switch the topic to my own areas of absorption, not grin on hearing bad news, and so on. In such cases, the correct reactions don't happen and can't be forced. Even worse, the more you compensate intellectually, the more your analytical capacity develops, making you colder and remote. It's a vicious circle. I suppose I ought to be now looking at management approaches but long-term developmental delays cause severe obstacles.

I was surprised to read last night that so many Russian poets and artists suffered severe psychiatric disorders. Nikolay Gogol was schizophrenic and the poet Lermentov had Schizoid personality. Not to mention Mayakovsky (whose photo shows no trace of emotional expression).
Today as I sat by myself outside doing mathematics, a neighbour's cat made his way right to where I sat and started to nuzzle me. As I petted the cat, the neighbour told me he noticed something unusual. He saw a warmth in the encounter, with the cat feeling very at ease.