Ever just felt the wind totally sucked out of you? Just completely out of breath from everything that's gone on in your life? So far this year, I have been through two bouts in the household with pneumonia, two deaths in the family (my father-in-law, and my dad, within weeks of each other,) My mother decided she wasn't getting enough attention, so she scheduled her "birthday" (her real birthday is in January,) in April, while we were still in the midst of carrying out my father's memorial wishes. I still haven't forgiven her for that. We've all gone crazy lately, in the words of Elton John.

Anyway, after about eight years of my father's dementia, probably another five or so of my father-in-law's and all the drama and intricate little details that go into all of that, I'm physically and mentally exhausted. To say nothing of what Asperger's does. It's exhausting. The following is an excerpt from another blog on just exactly who it is that is affected.

Recently I encountered a problem while collaborating with a group therapist with whom I share a patient. My patient has progressed quickly in therapy, as do many adults on the spectrum.  However he did not start off as stereotypically autistic.  In fact, initially he presented as many of my patients do: shy, articulate, witty.  Good eye contact.  Appropriate affect.  Typical posture, gait and gesturing.

It took a few sessions to realize this fine gentleman suffered mightly with the symtoms of Asperger Syndrome, which he kept well managed and thoroughly hidden.  Contrary to the stereotyoes of adults on the spectrum, my patient displayed no "meltdown" behavior, was keenly (TOO keenly) aware of people's reactions to him and exhibited no bizarre special interests or encyclopedic knowledge of vaccuum models.

In fact, "Joe", as we'll call him, socialized quite well.  He seemed quietly confident and wry, intelligent and perceptive.  People responded well to him, really liked him, though probably none of them would describe him as a close friend.  No one realized - in fact he often went without realizing - that his baseline anxiety approached panic on a regular basis.  As soon as he was out of bed, existential angst was his constant companion.  His difficulty managing his thoughts made rudimentary conversations minefields to be navigated.  And navigate he did, dodging social errors with the same fright and determination one might actually dodge mines.  After even minor social interactions he routinely found himself exhausted, and would retreat to soothing, isolated activity: sculpture, writing, woodworking.  Not conversation with his wife.

Diagnosing this man was problematic.  He truly did not fit the criteria for Asperger Syndrome.  In fact, the only person to suspect he was on the spectrum was his wife, who puzzled endlessly about this curious man.  He seems so sensitive and kind, she would say.  Yet he ignores my birthday and hangs up before saying goodbye. He's so charming with others, yet so silent at home.  He never misses a deadline at work, yet cannot remember to give our dog his heart medication.

Partners of people on the spectrum are drawn to what they can sense is inside their partner.  Yet they feel shut out, left pining for connection with this special person who remains unreachable.  It can be a confusing relationship, and one that can easily lead to resentment.

So what was the problem I ran into with the collaborating therapist?  She found it hilarious - outrageous! - that Joe had been diagnosed with Asperger's.  When Joe would make an insightful comment during group session, this group therapist and members would share a hearty laugh, rolling their eyes that this sensitive man had been diagnosed as autistic.  When Joe would tear up recounting his wife's rage and disappointment, he'd hear "So Mr. Autistic is shaking because his wife got angry!  Ha ha!  Shouldn't you be indifferent and focusing on dinosaurs?" (I'm sorry to say this is a direct quote.)  The general public, even many clinicians, cannot believe someone like Joe can be autistic.  His social deficits are so well hidden that he has convinced the world his autism does not exist.  And he has perhaps convinced himself.

One person remains unconvinced.  His wife.  After a long day of running what he terms his "social program", feigning natural banter and hiding anxiety, he is exhausted.  His wife comes home to a man who has retreated to isolation as a desperate attempt to find peace and rest.

I'd like to write more about this "hidden autistic" phenomena.  Someone must.  Adults on the spectrum are often too good at convincing others they are fine, have no emotions, are robotic.  This is never the case, and the illusion can be dangerous to long-term mental health for autistics and their partners alike.

Yes, I know it's problem year.....and it's caused it's share of problems; a lot of hand-wringing over what happens when my wife can no longer work, which will probably be sooner rather than later. Although we did have a very nice vacation/honeymoon up in the Soo and St. Ignace; it will be 10 years in November. I also did something incredibly stupid in the aftermath, which I shall not get into, exactly, and to you, Martha Jane, I am sorry to the very core of me. I don't know why I did what I did, but I will never do it again, promise. Which I realize does nothing when the life is sucked out of you, as well, and there's no relief in sight. I promised to always love you, and take care of you, and I swear to God, I will. I love you too much to leave you hanging. But my weird is off-the-charts, frankly, and I know that. I couldn't survive in a normal job, so it'd be a question of getting the right one. Whatever that is. Jobs, maybe more, Hell, I don't know. What I don't want to be is constantly looking for a job, because I'm forever in the wrong one, because that has its pitfalls too. Sorry if this seems like such an ordeal, quite honestly, IT IS. Between a hernia, kidney stones, having thrown my back out once, Vasovagal Syncope, sleep deprivation, dehydration.....you get the picture. This ain't gonna be like getting a job when we were kids. I wonder for myself if I could actually pass a drug screen, God only knows. I'll try, but ya gotta be patient. Easier said than done, I know. Just give me a modicum of credence. A little faith in me goes a long way, that's just they way my mind works. I agonize over all the things I seemingly can't control, either; fat lotta good it does me. Mostly just makes my anxiety worse.

So in case you're wondering why I'm such a babbling bucket on nonsense right now, it is mostly a mind which nothing will allow to stop, and circumstances that aren't helping matters any. A little peace and quiet would do wonders. In fact, it did, really, unfortunately, we had to come back and go back to work. Or at least you did, at the moment. Here's the bottom line, though; trying to SEEM like a relatively normal person is EXHAUSTING to me. I mean, I actually have to consciously remind myself to maintain eye contact with people. All those things you do without even thinking, all those social cues and quirks and conventions that are just natural....I have to CONSCIOUSLY THINK ABOUT EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM. Which is brain-drain, plain and simple. Kindly think about that, the next time it crosses your mind to chide me about when I'm not being my most socially acceptable. All I'm thinking sometimes is that I'd just like my damn brain to stop buzzing. My ears to stop ringing. My hands and feet and legs to be still. and yes, I realize my of my personality is exhausting to everyone else I come in contact with. Sorry. You try being me. It ain't as easy as it looks.