I joke that I’ve always been the same person. My opinions on certain topics have changed over the years, but when I reflect, so many things have stayed the same. I never liked wearing anything that showed a lot of skin. I don’t judge people with a more adventurous sense of style than I do; I’m just more comfortable in more conservative outfits. I’ve always had a strong internal sense of justice. I’ve added some new favorite foods to the roster. My hobbies have stayed consistent. An acquaintance from high school mentioned recently that I’ve “chilled out,” which, with hindsight, I can say was much needed. I’m proud to say that at my core, I’m still the same person. What I have found destabilizing as I’ve gotten older is that some people are mirages, or maybe versions of themselves. I’ll adjust to the version they’re currently presenting, and then, when it changes, I’m left doing an endless self-inventory of what I could have done to bring about the change.
As a child, I started questioning which version of someone I was getting in middle school. I remember an 8th-grade girl being oh-so-sorry I had gotten gum in my hair, but she had been chewing the gum that ended up there. In high school, people seemed to change their personalities like clothes, and I often couldn’t keep up. Not only were people changing who they were, or so it seemed, but the rules of engagement with my peers were changing as well. This is a frustration I still feel today. I’ll walk into work or a family gathering and find that I’m all of a sudden persona non grata, even though my presentation hasn’t changed. My partner will tell me later that the rules of social engagement were different because of x,y, or z social construct I didn’t pick up on. I would have hoped that almost a decade after my diagnosis, family members at least would provide me the courtesy of clear communication. This has not been the case. I often joke that my world changed when I received the diagnosis, but no one else’s did. I’ve started to wonder if that’s really a joke or the truth. It’s not that I expected a complete 180 in how I was treated by my family; I just hoped that over time, it would lead to better communication, or that family members might ask how they could best support me, as I have with them at various moments. This has not been the case in many cases.
The first experience was in the workplace after a breakup. A coworker mentioned getting me a bike so we could go for a ride together on the weekend. I looked forward to it, following up with her a few times to ask when we would go and where. I thought about whether I should bring sandwiches or other snacks. No one had ever invited me on an outdoor activity like that from work. After the second or third time I asked, she never brought it up again. She would say that she had gone by herself, but then she stopped mentioning that she had gone for rides on her own. I don’t know if it’s because I had started dating again and she thought I didn’t need socialization anymore, or if I did something at work that bothered her, but I dropped it. I felt confused. I had told my parents how excited I was to go, and when the tentative plan evaporated, I didn’t know what to say. She had initiated it, and it didn’t seem appropriate to push the subject further. I see this person every day of the work week. Sometimes we have friendly conversations, sometimes I’m ignored. For a moment, I thought I had what could be the beginning of a work friendship, and then all of a sudden it was gone.
The second set of experiences concerned those in my private life. These individuals were very supportive after a difficult time in my life, and it felt like we were finally entering a new phase. One of them had moved away, and ironically, the relationship had improved with distance. I thought I was seeing the new era we were all entering, and then it lasted about a year. All of a sudden, the relationships began to slip away, fading like mist that drifts off when sunlight appears. I was left wondering, where did the people go? Did I imagine the people they were? I spent a lot of time wondering what I could do to get back the versions of these people. I did that with the workplace interaction. I learned about a sport, in part, to see what would happen if I took an interest in one of the only topics they were passionate about. Nothing changed.
In this second interaction, I did ask a lot of questions. Sometimes it feels like all I do in some relationships in my life is ask questions because I’m so confused all the time. They are often surprised, don’t know what I’m talking about, we can’t agree on a shared reality, and I walk away wondering if I’m crazy. I always conclude I’m not crazy and that the reality, the version of those individuals I experienced, is now gone. It’s haunting to grieve someone who is in front of you. When chasing a past reality is no longer an option, and its existence again is a fantasy, the only option is to build a new reality that doesn’t lead you to question your own sanity. I’ve started envisioning the support system and life I want as I think about the family I’ll have in the future.
At the center of this support system would be the two home churches I’m grateful to have found. Spending time getting to know parents, volunteering, and attending social events at these two places are actions I’m taking now. I have gotten to know my neighbors where I live now. Even though I won’t be living where I live now when I have children, I can practice being a good neighbor now. I want to know how to build good relationships with my neighbors in the future so that we can rely on each other, and they know we can rely on me. I’m strengthening bonds with friends and doing my best to celebrate their milestones, because every milestone deserves to be celebrated. I’ve bought art supplies, and this upcoming weekend I’m planning on making a family values canvas. I’ve already decided that I want a household with animals; I have two cats. I have increased the frequency and duration of my workouts to better manage stress and stay healthy in the long term.
While I’m practicing the skills I will need for the future, I still grieve the people who are no longer in my life for one reason or another. There are friends who I thought would be in my life a lot longer who have faded, and I miss them. Through trial and error, I’ve learned that it’s healthier for me not to try to make close friendships at work. Work is a place that I have to go to five days a week, and it can lead to artificially feeling close connections. If I focus on cultivating connections and friendships outside the workplace, the other person and I are both forced to put in extra effort to meet. It’s also difficult to read social cues with my autism diagnosis, mixing in the workplace dynamics. Separating friendship building from the workplace is best for me.
One of the lessons from interacting with these human mirages has been that it takes getting to know more people to find genuine friends and those who can be long-term parts of my support system. I also don’t just want people who will support me; I want people whom I can support. Just like my mom said, it takes kissing a lot of frogs to find the proverbial prince in a romantic setting; I’m now realizing this saying applies to platonic friendships, too. I used to be so sad and take it so personally when I would invite someone out ot lunch, a lady from church, and they would say, “We should do this again, I’ll plan it,” and I would never hear from them again. Now that it happened, I think, “I find this disappointing, but I need to try again to find a good friendship match.” I’m definitely out here, in the world, trying to find people who I can cheer on and who will cheer me on. Life and motherhood will be hard enough. We are not meant to live alone, and I know I want a supportive community around me. I don’t want to wait until I’m in the thick of it to build that community; I want to be proactive.
As always, when confronted with a difficult situation, one of my favorite podcasters always reminds me that we are only in control of ourselves, or in my case, myself. We can also only ever do the next right thing.
Living on the Spectrum 
Leave a comment