Eye Contact

I can't stand eye contact.

When I was little, and had misbehaved and Dad had to scold me, he invariably came to the point where he would demand that I look at him when he talks to me.
But I just couldn't. And the worse I felt, the harder it was to have eye contact.

Over the years I have learned that people expect eye contact, and I have learned to look at a spot  between their brows.
But I am not comfortable with that.

But that is what every Aspie will tell, as well as we really don't know what makes it so hard.
What I can say is, that eye contact isn't only just uncomfortable, but I also have trouble listening, and understanding things I get told, when I have to maintain eye contact.

All through my life I have listened to people telling me things, and then when I get asked about that a minute later, I never was able to tell what I just had been told.
I realize that now big time, since I'm not trying to maintain whatever kind of eye contact, proper or faux. Now I look at whatever I feel comfortable with, which can mean that I actually turn my back on whom I am talking to. And that way I can keep things in my mind.

There are more weird things connected to my seeing.
When I'm driving, and get for whatever reason stressed, I have to turn down, or shut off my music altogether, because I cannot see properly.
That doesn't mean that all things go black or something, or maybe fade out into white. The things are still there, but I cannot asses them properly.
It's the same like in my graphics programs.
Usually I have a very good feeling for proportions when I do pictures or graphics.
Without any aides I can place objects pretty much exactly in centers, both what is the real center, and what is visually pleasing.
For my graphic designs I rarely use guides and rulers, because like I said, I can do that visually just fine.
But when I work in InDesign, a layout program in my Adobe Creative Suite, which displays every object inside a layout with a thin bounding box, I just cannot see properly. It is just impossible for me to see past the many bounding boxes if the layout is any good, if the objects are placed in a pleasing or proper fashion.
In Photoshop the brush tip changes to a little cross hairs when it is too tiny for a proper display.
And even though the cross hairs should make it real easy to place the brush properly, I just can't.
In those cases I have to work with the zoom, so I am able to see what is going on on my canvas.

Music

I love music.
And I cannot stand music.

Okay, to unravel this, I will start with the radio.
Radio is basically an instrument of terror for me. Not only do they refuse to loop music, they also always talk into it. Not only talk, but kind of yell just how amazingly great and indispensable their station is.
Terror.
It is very rare that the radio plays a song I like, and then they ruin it in the said way.
So, the CD was my favorite invention.
Before CD I had to tape my favorite music in just the ways I needed to listen to it.
And that even was an improvement to back then when I had to always set the arm of my record player back.
But I have to admit that I didn't listen much to music when I was pre teen.
I loved Karl May's Winnetou, and listened to those stories on records. And the Winnetou soundtrack actually was my first love in music.
But that was due to my love for Winnetou. I wouldn't have loved the music without the movies.

Two songs I really loved, just because I loved the music, were Danyel Gerard's "Butterfly", and Paul McCartney's "Mull of Kintyre". That was awesome! The sound of the bagpipes touched me deep down inside. Mother owned both songs on small records, and I actually went at times and put them on.
By the way, the bagpipe still thrills me. So much, that I actually play one.

But my first real love in music was Chris de Burgh.
Like so many other things I had picked that up from my sister. Sister loves music in kind of a musician way, plays several instruments, and actually is able to compose little pieces.
I can barely read music.
But Chris de Burgh had an awesome impact on me.
Some of his songs still touch me so much, that I cannot sing properly along because I have to sob, or actually start to cry.
Over the years I have picked up more likes. But nothing beats Chris de Burgh.
And I'm not liking his music because it is romantic, and a great thing to hear when one is in love or some such.
I cannot explain what exactly is going on inside me when I hear it, but I can say that at times it nearly bowls me over, and it is a necessity to listen to it.
Back in eighth grade we went on a class outing, for about ten days.
And it being Waldorf school, we were explicitly not allowed to take Walkmen along, which had just been invented.
Terrible! Going on these outings was of course a strain anyway. But the mere thought of not being able to listen to my favorite songs nearly made me sick.
At those times, when I feel that need to listen to a certain music, it seems that every hour without that music is utterly wasted.
That got me into a box, because of course I cannot just simply disobey orders. One doesn't do that.
But ten days...
In the end I took the Walkman along.
I had to.
I start hurting when I feel a need like that, which cannot be mended.
And I'm not just saying it like that. I react bodily to music, both in good ways and bad ways.
Of course my teacher found out that I had my music along, and took it away.
I'm not sorry that I did what I did. But I wish that I could tell my teacher that I hadn't done it just because I was thick-skinned and not interested in rules.

I must say, my children have done a real great job going along with my music. They never complained that I have it running not only in loops, but that also for weeks, months, and sometimes even years.
At home not so much, but always in the car.
And they even were so good to not let their own music run too loud.
I didn't know I have Asperger's while my children still lived here, but of course I always had strong reactions.

Most terrible: bad music usually gives me what we call an "ear worm", it keeps running in my head in endless loops, imposing itself on my consciousness, more often than not for days, or even weeks.
That happens lamentably rarely with music I like. But hearing just the tiniest bit of some gruesome old pop song, triggers the loop.
The lesser I like the music, the easier it creates the loop.
And because it is in my head, there is just no way away. I'm stuck with it.

I had one great big incident with music way back when I worked at McDonald's.
We had a tape of music running in the lobby. Just some music to tinkle in the background while people ate their meals.
Very early on in my "career" there I was assigned to do the lobby, to clean up after people, and see to the floors and things.
Most crew members hate that job, but I really enjoyed it, keeping everything neat and clean.
And while I worked there, (nearly every day, because my superiors were impressed by my likes to clean up.), I took notice of a song from the tape.
It got so that I was looking out for it, and I actually got a bit snappy when people started talking to me while the song was running.
And one day I came into the store, and a new tape of music was running.
I am not exaggerating when I say that it nearly made me sick.
I rushed into the office and challenged my superior to put the old tape back in.
And I must say considering the fact that I was way out of line, the man was kind enough to apologize, and tell me properly sorry that the old tape didn't even exist anymore.
I could hardly work that day, and went home in tears.
Two days later my sister called me up, and she was surprised that I sounded terribly down.
Despite my feeling a little bit embarrassed about acting silly over a piece of music, I told her about it, and how I really missed it.
I didn't know the title or anything, but I sang the chorus to her. More because it was so prominent in my mind, rather than hoping for relief.
But my sister was totally easy about it. "Oh that. That is Hello Again by Neil Diamond. I have that on a CD. Come by if you want to borrow it."
Oh my goodness!
It was such an enormous relief that I felt, that I actually had to shed some tears.
I went quickest possible to her to borrow the CD, but I'm afraid it has to count as stolen by now, because I never could give it back again, and bless Sister for never making me part with it.
Whenever I hear that song, it feels like stepping into a hot bath on a real cold day, where one stops shivering instantly. Everything inside me that sticks out from being rubbed the wrong way gets smoothed back down, and all I feel is soft rightness.
I am okay when I hear it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGE_v-KMV-o

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBQVKzNpW4s

(Never mind the terrible videos. It's just the music.)

As I was googling for these songs, I realized that I forgot to mention one important point.
I cannot stand any changes to my favorite songs.
Actually it was my dream to once go and see Chris de Burgh live in concert. But after I have seen him several times performing on TV shows, I have given up on that idea. Because like most artists, he always tweaks his songs, to achieve a kind of variety.
And that disturbs me massively.
Inside me the effect is close to what happens when one scratches on a black board, and depending on my general state, at times even can trigger tears.

Books

I never saw myself as somebody who doesn't like to read.
In the opposite.
But for sure I always had certain issues...
I always wanted pictures in my books. Yes, I know that people associate that with stupidity and a lack of ability to read. But I just simply am at a loss when I have nothing to hold on to in my mind.
People always point out how important it is to let ones imagination run. But really, I just cannot imagine people very well. So, when the looks of people  are somewhat important to the story, like for instance in The Lord of The Rings, I need guidance.

I got one book of Enid Blyton's "Five"-series for Christmas, I'm not so sure, but I think it was 1979.
And I really loved the book. Mother read it to us, so no troubles getting started on it.
So very soon I got more books of the series, and soon my sister offered me to read her books of Blyton's "Adventure"-series.
But I couldn't.
Because my favorite characters wouldn't be in those.
To this day I haven't read any of Enid Blyton's other famous series.
I find it exceptionally hard to get acquaint with people in books, or even on TV, and it disturbs me greatly when things get changed.
I am a huge Diagnosis Murder fan, and lucky me, just a short while after I had become a fan, at a time when the series came off the air, it was announced that a couple of novels were planned to be written. By author Lee Goldberg, who had written a couple of episodes of the TV show too.
And gee, was I happy when I held my first book in my hands!
The greatest thing about that was, that I would finally learn how my favorite characters, Mark Sloan and Steve Sloan, talk in the original. Being from Germany, I only knew that dubbed, speaking with strangers voices. Okay, I wouldn't hear the voices in the books, but I would know the wording.
But just a couple of pages into the book, I really got disturbed.
Lee Goldberg had taken it upon himself to "set a couple of things right".
Besides some other things he had changed the characters ages!
  Lee Goldberg, the author, is a total pain down south somewhere. He is so full of himself, and spends hours and hours on the internet, hoovering up praise for his sloppy work, and he just doesn't care when people find out that his work is sloppy. I had sent several remarks about things he was inconsistent about, or downright wrong. And his uncouth reply was that he doesn't care. It's his books, and he can write them just as he pleases...
So, anyway, I cannot read those books without getting into a state. My mind keeps yelling out loud when things aren't true, or when things are just simply not believable, going by what the series had been like, and I end up being exhausted, displeased, and in a real rotten mood.
Apart from being a firm believer that Mr. Goldberg sucks big time, I want to make the point here that my mind just cannot adjust while I'm reading.
That also got me out of reading Star Trek books.
Star Trek novels are written by many different authors, and they all want to come up with something ingenious, that marks their own work. One author invented a restaurant I think on board, where the characters go, and others invented real freaky crew members.
But all those inventions stayed in the work of just one author. They never got picked up as a general fact. - Yes, I am aware that there is the copyright thing. But I'm thinking if one writes in a universe like Star Trek, one should be willing to keep things followable.
And since that is not so, I simply cannot follow anymore.
   And follow I cannot either when I'm watching a movie, when I haven't had a chance to read in advance what it is all about.
That has gotten so that I hardly watch any TV anymore, since I cannot afford to buy a guide anymore.
I do access my  accustomed TV guide through the internet, but that is just too much trouble. All the scrolling that is involved, and the fact that they only display a few stations on one page, makes it impossible for me to gain any useful information.
But well, I don't have the time to watch a whole lot of TV anyway.
Nowadays I mostly just listen, while I work in Photoshop or something.
The one thing I still actually watch is documentaries.
Because I cannot gain the desired amount of information from books I have turned to visual education, and like that have accumulated quite some knowledge, in dozens of different fields.

And internet by the way.
I cannot read internet posts, when they contain too many quotes.
Some people really do that quoting beyond any reason. They quote what others have already quoted, and that all leaves a total mess, which I simply cannot understand any more.

So, I usually read what I know.
Up to this day I still actually ready my Enid Blyton books.
Just three years ago I have started buying the original books in English.
I have books I read in summer, and others I prefer to read during autumn or winter, when it's cold and one has to be under covers.
But I also love to read "Le Petit Nicolas", because that always brings back good memories of being in school. Rudolf Steiner school rooms can be pretty cozy, and it's great thinking back. Our French teatcher had read Le Petit Nicolas as a treat when we had behaved and learned well.

The Telephone

To come away a bit from the past, and rather shed some light on what makes my life so different, I'll start with the one big Aspie-feature. It's one of my biggest problems all through my life, next to not being able to stand close contact. But the contact thing kind of runs in the family, so nobody thought it was too weird.
But the telephone always stood out.
I cannot really explain why I am so terribly scared of it, but I certainly am. Just like almost all Aspies.
Knowing I have to make a certain call will give me nightmares for weeks.
Last year I was supposed to call a man who was supposed to repair my heaters. That took me three months.
What I can say is, that I don't hear properly on the phone. In real life I have no problems in that regard.
Let me give an example: as I was trying to get an appointment for my diagnosis, and when I couldn't get the renowned specialist on the phone, I called up the university hospital, which also has an Asperger consultation office.
I searched for that on Google, and called the number that got brought up.
Somebody answered the phone, and so I asked if it was possible to get an appointment for an Asperger's diagnosis.
The lady was thrown for a loop, and asked "What?"
So I repeated my inquiry, but no good. The lady had no idea what "Asperger's" is.
I thought it was real strange for an Asperger's consultation place to not know anything about it.
During all those misunderstandings the lady kept saying things. I wasn't talking into her words or anything. I did listen. But I didn't hear the words that I had reached the dentists office.
She had to repeat that several times, until I had finally heard it.

Answering machines are even worse.
Like I have said before, I have a friend in Texas, and I Skype pretty much every night with him.
And in case he is out doing his shopping or something, he has set his Skype to forward my call to his mobile phone.
And still, after all these years, it scares me out of my head when the forwarding tone starts. I cannot help myself. I lung for my "close call" button, my heart beating all the way up in my throat.

Back then, when I was way younger, people often suggested that it would probably be a lot better for me, if I had the option to video call, thinking that I only was scared because I didn't see whom I was talking with.
But since I have that extensive knowledge of constant skyping, I can honestly say no.
We, my friend and I, had a little bit of a rough beginning, because I loathed being in the video, plus there often was an echo, which let me hear my own voice, which scares me bonkers. But after a while it has become just the same normal, like it had been way back then, telephoning with my best friend for hours and hours.
It seems that I can use the phone fine, when I have a certain rapport with the person I am phoning with. A good knowledge of what is meant by what, and what the reactions will be.
My friend at times let me talk to his neighbor, or his niece who used to live with him. And what can I say, even though my English is quite good, I never could understand what they were saying.

So. I hate to use the phone.

And what makes it real bad is when people have those idiot "please hold the line" tape recordings going.
Those rile me bonkers. Especially when I have to call up the authorities who see to my support. They never just pick up the phone. One always has to listen to a recording at least once.
And when one gets into the holding system, they tell one every few seconds that no one is available to answer the call, one should please exercise some patience.
Really, exercising the patience until somebody answers is no problem at all. But hearing the idiot message every few seconds, like I'm some kind of weirdo with a zero short term memory...
It's terrible! And inbetween they play some terrible music, which I just know will stay in my head for at least the rest of the day, getting replayed in the same endless loop of terror.
And I just cannot escape.
Because of my telephone-connected hearing problems, the volume always has to be dialed all the way up in my phone. So, no matter how far away I hold the receiver, my ears get penetrated. And of course I cannot just leave the room, because I am waiting for somebody to answer my call.
So, if this takes more than just maybe a minute, I quickly go into "sensory overload".
It totally rubs me the wrong way, and builds up an incredible pressure, somewhere around my breast bone.
And when that happens, I soon have to start to yell, to let go of that pressure.
Well, while the loop is still running, I'm pretty free to say what I want. But if the whole thing takes too long, I just cannot get out of it. And when I then get forwarded on, or whatever, I find myself yelling at the people I talk to.
I don't want that. One doesn't yell at people. And of course it isn't helpful at all, when one needs to get a problem solved.

But that is one of the facts of Asperger's: stress piles upon stress. It doesn't go away because "one takes a deep breath" or something.

Around the same time I have tried to get a diagnosis, I also learned that I apparently was no client anymore at the place where I get my money from.
So I picked up the phone, and tried to find out what was going on.
I started calling one place, got through the loop of terror, but got forwarded to somebody else, who again was not the proper person, put me back into the loop...
The thing is: the more stressed I am, the lesser I am able to formulate proper sentences.
I more and more had trouble to say what I want, and more and more often got forwarded, and so I started to hyperventilate.
The end was that I couldn't speak at all anymore. Just gasp some short syllables. I had to give up on trying to find out, but rather call the Red Cross, and get somebody to help.

People usually think we Aspies have poor self control, and had bad upbringing and just pitch tantrums so we get our way.
But those sensory overloads are so much more.
It's not us. Something huge takes control, and just drags us along.

I once tried surfing in California, and got nearly drowned by a wave I had completely misunderestimated. The way I came out of the water, near suffocated, hurting, beaten-up, bushed, trembling from the effort to survive, felt very much the same like after one of those sensory overload occasions.
It is no fun.

P.S.: here is where the good of the diagnosis comes in.
I have since then made some calls, and had said right up front that people please bear with me, I am Aspie, and have troubles talking on the phone.
And it is just amazing! People are usually very helpful. And they see that they don't forward me unnecessarily.
It's a difference like between day and night.
In only a couple of weeks I managed to get a couple of things done.