wildaspie

A blogpal commented on my Twitter status (I use two Twitter accounts, one is on the public timeline and the other isn’t; the latter updates my Facebook status) that she considers me brave.

She isn’t the first to suggest that.  The funny thing is, I’m not brave.  At all.  I suppose I come across that way to others because I tend to be a reserved person.  Like a duck, as the saying goes: everything looks calm on the surface, but underneath I’m paddling like mad to stay afloat.

I’ve always had trouble with personal boundaries.  I tend to either keep people shut completely out of my personal, inner life, or open up so completely they get overwhelmed.  This might be an “aspie-ism,” from what I have read and seen of others this trait is fairly common to those with Asperger’s Syndrome.

For that matter, I do have a very rich inner life – that is, most of my living takes place in my mind, and I am generally content and in control there.  The life outside – which includes interacting with other people – is unpredictable, alien, and often frightening.

I learned to “read” people at a very young age – something unusual for an aspie – as a survival tactic and coping mechanism.  But as I got older and this skill became more honed, I found it difficult to draw the line – protect my boundaries and those of others – by limiting how much I “read” of them.  Most people are the same: presenting a calm, in-control façade and scared almost to death inside.

The only way I know of to limit my exposure to what others consider to be hidden – their pain, worry, shame, and fear – is to limit my interactions with them entirely.  It’s hard for me to accept polite, social lies (like an answer of “I’m doing all right,” or “I’m fine” to the question “how are you?”).  And so my outer life tends to be somewhat solitary and isolated.  I’m not always sure it’s a good trade.

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