Any connection that happens has to be real and organic, no acting.
Not sure I even know how to do this, honestly. It's so terribly embarrassing when I allow those autistic traits to surface. I've worked most of my life to learn how to cover them up, and invested a great deal of emotional energy into that process.
How does this work with authenticity vs. growth? Connection is generated by authenticity, right? And yet, we're all supposed to be growing and progressing in our processes. We recognize areas that need improvement, and we make changes to improve them. So if this is what I've been doing all my life in regards to autistic traits, why would stopping that now be a good idea?
For example, I don't like the way I stutter when I talk with people, so I think through what I have to say first and create an internal mindset that allows me to act more extroverted and come across more smoothly...I've achieved "change" and "progress" and improved my social skillset, but it doesn't feel authentic to me...it's not who I really am...and when people think that's who I am and like me because of it, I don't feel like they even know me. But to go back to allowing my stutter to come through scares people off. They see me as someone who is a little "off" and not easy to talk with.
Emotional expression is another example. I don't typically experience the appropriate emotions during a conversation with someone. I've learned which emotions are expected, and I've learned to emulate those reactions in socially appropriate ways (to a degree). That keeps me off people's "weirdo" radar fairly well. But if I drop that facade, then I no longer interact with people in ways that feel emotionally appropriate to them. It's authentic to me to mostly be emotionally flat in a conversation, but people feel put off by that instead of being drawn to my "authenticity." And they pull away, and don't open up to me anymore.
Being "real" means being alone. Being "fake" results in passing as socially acceptable, but never being known. It's a catch-22. And it's exhausting, and frustrating, and painful.
Did you tell your T that you appreciated the gesture for what it was?
I told him one or two thoughts I had in response to the lyrics. I tried to engage with what he offered. Does that count?
Saying "thank you" usually seems trite and forced to me. I don't like it when people say that to me (it feels cliche and generic), so in being authentic, I express appreciation by cognitively engaging in what's presented rather than in saying "thank you" (which requires no real engagement at all).
I don't think I'm articulating this particularly well, except to say that we have different ideas of what *demonstrating* love, affection and connection looks like.
Yes...I've studied Gary Chapman's five love languages. Actually, I hate that book. Some of my family members have used it to beat people over the head: "
I receive love through compliments and words of affirmation, so if you're not giving me enough compliments, I'm going to go fishing for those compliments until I get all that I want from you." Ugh. Run away.
But the premise is still true. We each receive love in different ways. My DH and I have identified several ways he receives love, although his primary way is by far through physical touch, especially sex. And yet, I've not been able to give that to him for over a year now, and it was sparse before that. He's really struggled with not feeling loved, even though we've talked extensively on why I can't handle that right now, and I'm terribly sorry to be depriving him, and I'm doing absolutely everything I know to try to remedy this. The fact I can't do this for him is actually a huge trigger for me...I feel like such a failure as a wife.
On the flip side, I've not been able to identify many ways that help
me feel loved. From Chapman's list, acts of service probably comes the closest. I wish someone would write an "aspie love languages" book, too, because I think it would include things like solitude, quiet, consistency, honesty, and solidarity.
At its best it feels like being the least guarded I've ever felt with another person.
Again, this is where those shameful autistic traits cause such trouble. If I let them surface so I'm not so guarded, people's feelings get hurt unintentionally. Even with people who've said it's okay for me to just relax and be whatever with them, I don't think they know what they're talking about. You can't be "connected" with a recluse. DH has resorted to messaging me rather than talking face to face, even when we're in the same room, because I write so much better than I talk if I'm letting myself sink into my own thoughts. And I try to meet him in his chit-chat conversations on a regular basis, too. But we can't both be relaxed and unguarded at the same time. One or the other of us has to be working hard to bridge the gap.
I only feel 100% safe and relaxed when I am 100% alone -- but that's my PTSD and my overdeveloped caretaking urges at work! And for me, as an introvert, being around people, even people I feel deeply connected to, IS work, it takes effort and it zaps my energy. At the end of the day I just can't people anymore.
If being with people is so much work, how do you relax with them?
I asked you a damn hard question, didn't I? Thanks for turning it around and making me try to answer it!
I think, for most people, it's so much a part of their lives that they can't describe it...like if you asked a fish to describe water. So when I try to describe what it feels like I'm missing, they don't get it...it doesn't make sense. But I see signs of it all around me.
I told my T the other day about how, the day before, I had been scrolling through Facebook and I saw a photo of an acquaintance and her husband and their toddler and new baby. They were all snuggled up together and looked really cute. My instantaneous thought was, "Wow, they did a really good job of posing for that picture! They're tolerating all of that physical touch so well! I bet they pulled away the instant after the pic was snapped, though." And then it occurred to me, "No wait...they probably enjoyed hugging like that. It probably felt good to them. How is that possible?"
People around me enjoy touching each other, enjoy talking with each other, they smile at each other, they talk about stupid stuff in their lives as if the other person actually wants to hear it, they do fun things together, they hang out together, they joke and laugh, and they come away from it all having enjoyed themselves. Why? What is it they're getting out of these things that is so enjoyable?
I can fake enjoying it...I thought everyone else was faking it, too. I thought that's what you do for people to show that you care for them--you fake enjoying being with them. And then when you've done your duty to appropriately communicate that you care for someone, then you go home and recharge and try to get ready for the next time you have to perform for people. I thought everyone did this. But they don't. Why can't I enjoy being with people like they do? Even as an introvert...even if I set up the ideal introverted social interaction, like dinner one-on-one with a friend who likes a lot of the same things I do and we can talk for hours...even then, I don't feel connected. I don't enjoy the time. I can tolerate it better than a big group gathering, and there might be some interesting ideas discussed, but I don't leave feeling fulfilled and connected and loved.
And people don't get this. It doesn't register for them what I'm talking about. Even the Ts I've worked with don't get it. My current T, I think, is starting to understand. But I still don't think he really comprehends this all-encompassing loneliness. It seems I'm socially functional just enough to recognize the signs of what other people are experiencing, but socially deficient in the ability to achieve that for myself.
