Autism Spectrum Quotient 40 - AQ40

First post. Ugh.

To say this is terrifying to me is a complete and utter understatement. Having my mind hole opened up for the internet to read and scrutinise sends my anxiety levels skyrocketing to atmospheric levels. At the encouragement of a dear friend, I have decided to go ahead and open up to a bunch of strangers about a heap of stuff that I probably wouldn't even tell my Mum or my partner. Unscripted. Unedited. Unapologetic. This is me.

First up, let's explain the url and title of this blog. 40, is the unofficial score I got recently when I took a few quizzes to see if I have Aspergers Syndrome. It is a recent revelation, that explains quite a few personality 'defects' that I have struggled with my entire life. Without going too far into my back story, I'll try to set the scene for how I came to this at first, seemingly absurd conclusion...

• I have never found it easy to make friends
• I have never found it easy to maintain friendships
• When I make a friend, I find it difficult to be close with other people, and obsess with this 'one friend'.
• I prefer solitude over being with people almost all of the time. When I was younger and would have my 'best (read 'only') friend over for a sleepover, I can recall many occasions when I would shut myself in my bedroom to read while she sat in the lounge room with my family. 
• I absolutely despise socialising. Despise it. It causes me intolerable levels of anxiety (profuse sweating, shaking, nausea, dizziness, mood swings and heightened irritability).
• I become obsessed with things that I find interesting. At the moment this is scrapbooking, quilting and DIY projects. 
• I collect/ hoard things that I become obsessed with - at the moment it is scrapbooking supplies, fabric and things that I 'could use' for DIY projects. In the past it has been: rocks ("They're not rocks, they're gemstones and minerals"), shells/ coral, easter egg wrappers, postcards, birthday cards (still do this one), photo frames, journals.
• I find mildly annoying things extremely irritating - my partner eating cereal and the milk slopping back into the bowl, slurping coffee, people mispronouncing words and using poor grammar.
• I retain relatively useless information from years ago and regurgitate it at will, but find it difficult to recall recent events.
• I also regurgitate word-for-word conversations that I had with people, and things they said they would/ wouldn't do, tone of voice they used etc. (my partner hates this one). 
• People often tell me that the things I say are rude or aggressive, when I had no intention of coming across like that. It almost always surprises me when people tell me this. 

There are many other smaller things that I could write about, but these are the main points that come to mind right now.

The biggest factor for me didn't become apparent until I had my daughter. She is two now, and from the moment she was born, I have felt disconnected from her. Everybody told me that when she was born, I would be overwhelmed with an intense love for her, and a fierce bond would be formed. They said that the bond between mother and child is like nothing else you'll ever experience; but I never felt that. I often feel as though I am just looking after somebody else's child, and let me tell you, it is probably one of the most incredibly destructive feelings in the world. To be a mother, and not feel like a mother 'should' all of the time, makes you seriously question your personality. I began to view myself as defective, and that set me on a path to hating myself for everything that I wished I could be.

Now, disclaimer, I love my daughter, I would die for my daughter. I would do anything to stop her from coming to harm. The problem does not lie in my lack of love for her, it stems from my lack of ability to maintain close relationships. I have never spent so much time with one person before, and I have certainly never had someone rely on me 100%. Problems also arise because of my lack of tolerance for things I find irritating, combined with my insatiable desire to be alone. I enjoy spending time with her, but I also need to be by myself sometimes. Some days are easier than others. Some days she is in a bad mood, as am I, and we clash almost all day. There are days I have been reduced to tears because all I want to do is be alone. I can hear you saying that it is normal to feel like this, and it is normal to have days when nothing goes right, and I recognise that, and it's what I have told myself for two and a half years. 

So here's the other kicker. I find great joy in what my daughter does. I think that she is incredibly clever, funny, entertaining, adorable, kind, intelligent, resourceful and generally wonderful in every way. However, I find it exceedingly difficult to express this, and I always have. I mimic other people, and things I've heard. I feel these things, but I don't feel it necessary to express them all of the time. This has never run me into trouble before, but I know that children need to hear these things. They can not infer from past encounters. They do not understand "That's just the way she is". My biggest fear is that my daughter will grow up thinking that I don't love her because I forget to laugh sometimes when she is funny, because I sometimes overlook her funny dance in favour of my latest pinterest obsession, because some days I don't talk to her as much as I should because I'm reading about something interesting that I can't tear my attention away from. The problem is not that I don't feel happy when she is funny, but in the fact that I only laugh because I know it is expected. I find what she does funny, but I don't laugh because it makes me laugh. I laugh because her father is laughing. I smile because it would be wrong not to. I'm still happy on the inside, but it just doesn't translate to my face or body language unless I am acutely aware of it...

This may seem like a very strange concept, but it wasn't something I ever actively thought about until I became a parent. It was just the way that I was. I do sometimes find things funny enough to laugh without forcing it, but very rarely. I thought this was just the way everybody was, until I saw the way that my partner laughed at our daughter. The sheer, unadulterated joy that exploded on his face when she did something silly/ hilarious/ ridiculous actually caused me pain. Why couldn't I feel like that? What was wrong with me? 

It prompted me to question myself as a person, and especially as a parent, and led me to the doctor, where I was very quickly diagnosed with post natal depression. I readily accepted this diagnosis because it explained so many of the things I felt. Mainly the disconnect with my daughter and my severe inability to cope with the many stresses of becoming a mother. I was placed on medication and attended some psychologist sessions to assist me to deal with stress and anxiety. I stopped going after a few sessions because I found the psychologist was attempting to lay blame for my behaviour with my partner (he didn't do enough around the home etc.). While it was possible that this was a contributing factor to my stress, I felt the problems I was having went further than surface problems. I decided to work by myself while still on the medication to make myself feel better. I found coping mechanisms that worked for me usually involved routine and organisation. If you have a two year old, or know someone who does, you'll know that this does not always work out very well...

To cut a long (arduous) story short, I am constantly trying to adapt my current situation to cause minimal amounts of stress for myself, my child, and my partner, while still maintaining our home, as well as giving myself enough time for solitary activities. It's difficult, and most days something has to give, but I always make sure it's the housework or my personal endeavours, and not my daughter or my partner.

Interestingly, it was a passing comment my mother made that led me to my self diagnosis. I made a comment about my daughter having a sensory issue with things being placed over her head, and my mother thought I was talking about myself. She said "Ahaha, maybe you have Autism!". I have worked in child care, and worked one-on-one with children ranging across the spectrum, and I knew the symptoms. Even though my mother was making a a joke, a joke that wasn't even about me, it made me think; and think hard. My initial thought was "Oh, I couldn't have that, someone would have picked up on it by now". However, after doing a lot (and I mean an obsessive amount) of research, I discovered some really interesting things about women with Aspergers that explained so much about my personality, and why I behave the way that I do. You can read more about women with Aspergers Syndrome here. This is a foreword to a book (that I intend to read and review) by Liane Holliday Willey. It's written by Tony Attwood, who has also written some wonderful articles on women who have Aspergers Syndrome.

I think that's probably enough sharing for today. *cue abrupt end to this post*