The Process of Becoming

had a wonderful evening with my parents and my boyfriend. we ate, became confused and petted the cats. we even watched ‘true grit’, which is a great film by the way, especially since my love held me the entire time, not that is was scary though. 

I have a good feeling about all of this even though I don’t seem to have many good feelings at all these days - the only good ones are related to him.

this morning was awful and I cried too much and my eyes decided not to recover before picking him up at his place. he still preferred me without sunglasses.

he’s good to me.    

Sometimes, when I’m in a relationship, or just in love with someone, I seem to become incredibly, well, pathetic. I’m never quite sure how people feel about me even if they tell me. Also; I do a lot of suppressing of my emotions, because I don’t want to overwhelm my partner with too much affection as it’s often seen as being clingy.

I am so infatuated these days and I want to tell the entire world and shower him with affection. He makes me happy-stim. Just thinking about him turns me into a childish, love monster.

And then it hits me; oh god I must be so annoying sometimes. What if I annoy him? What if he doesn’t like me being all over him, even though he says he likes it?

He’s too gorgeous. Why am I so odd-looking (hot, but still… odd)?

My autistic brain is confused by all of this. It wants ALL THE THINGS!!

Let’s kiss! Let’s talk for hours! Let’s shag! Let’s shag again! Let’s play video games! Let’s find a stone cottage and get a kitty! Let’s travel the world! Let’s hug! Dancing, let’s dance! Let’s watch a sad film, so we can hold each other! Let’s eat lots of cake together! Let’s snog in the streets! Holding hands! Let’s be Ellie and Carl Frederiksen! But don’t die on me. Let’s die together one day! Let’s get really old and wrinkly! Let’s make each other home-made presents! Let’s sit quietly in a room together and read books, while the wind beats on the windows.

Ugh… Relationships make me slightly madder than usual.

I’ve decided to write about my understanding of and my experiences with love. This will quite naturally be coloured by an enormous nonobjectivity, but fortunately love is rarely about being objective. These are merely my thoughts as an autistic women who’s been involved with both allistic and autistic partners. I speak of no definite truth, except the truth of my own views and love life. 

[picture of bright red poppies in a golden-green field]

PRACTICAL THOUGHTS MOSTLY ON COMMUNICATION

#1) Love is not just one thing. Love is many things, and your idea of love is (most likely) as accurate as mine.

#2) Loving someone romantically and finding them sexually attractive is not the same thing.

#3) I’ve never loved two people the same way.

#4) Not two people kiss the exact same way.

#5) Communication is key.

#6) Communication does not have to be about talking. It’s okay to not be verbal. It doesn’t make you less mature, it doesn’t make you less intelligent and if your partner(s) think so, it’s time to have a serious talk or get rid of them.

#7) Tell your partner how you communicate best, and respect their way of communicating too.

#8) I’m not very verbal and I don’t process auditory information very well. I try very hard to listen, when people talk, but sometimes I forget, even if it’s very important to my partner and even if they’ve just told me ten minutes ago.

#9) If you want to tell me something you wish me to remember, write said information down for me or allow me to take notes.

#10) Compromise is good and unavoidable in any given relationship. Looking for solutions is important, but I don’t think you can expect your partner to just adopt your way of communicating, nor should they expect that you abandon your way of doing so.

…or rather; it’s the human factor in love that makes it difficult.

God damnit, I’m not that bad a communicator, but we seem to not understand each other. It’s like we speak different languages.

I care so much about him. I just wish we could find a way to understand each other better.

Can I not have my new love and pretend nothing else exists? Just for a week, a month, a year. 

Ugh - I can’t make sense of this.

“Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly, too, as your sisters have all fled before you: but kiss me before you go—embrace me, Jane.”

Because I want you to know all of me, allow me to supply you with a contrast to my previous post. This is not about what has been done, but what has always living in every fibre of my being. This is about the sweetest and purest pleasure and pain known to man. This is about passion and love.

   Oh - and yes; I’ve just watched the 2011 Jane Eyre again. So sue me!

Before I proceed I will express what is already plain to see: I am a hopeless romantic. Despite of everything that has befallen me in the past I believe in love. My faith in this is unwavering and cannot be moved. Some may cling to God in order to deal with the darkness ahead (which is very understandable), but I need not hold on to anything but this.

   I do not, however, believe in perfect love. There is no such thing as perfection and even if there were I would not know of it. I do not believe in ‘the one’ either. Not in the popular sense at least. I believe that some people meet a kindred spirit and tiny sparks set off an explosion that leaves a permanent imprint on one’s soul, making that person forever a part of one’s existence.

“I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal—as we are!”

I am not one to write down demands about what I want in a lover, partner, call it what you will. But I know what traits I value, which traits compliment mine. I crave passion and I want someone to return my fire, to burn with me. I desire sensitivity and wit. Someone who will want to listen to me, who finds my words more enchanting than my looks. A compassionate and just man. Someone to challenge me to do better, to strive for more but appreciate the present as well. I want a partner who will want to see me fly, not constrict me to a cage so that I may never be injured by the winds and weather of life. I want an equal.

“When you are inquisitive, Jane, you always make me smile. You open your eyes like an eager bird, and make every now and then a restless movement, as if answers in speech did not flow fast enough for you, and you wanted to read the tablet of one’s heart.”

I need none of this. I have no desire to ever marry. I am fully capable of being content in my own company, and I will not settle for embers just to quench my thirst. I am a dreamer, not a fool. I know full and well that love is rarely delivered in the package we first imagined, I am open for a surprise, yet not willing to settle for careful affections. I have endured enough sanity, enough hardship and sense and I long for mad love.

Maybe I’ll never find this kind of love. Maybe I will, but then lose it again. While I wait for answers I will live, love myself and those around me, and do my best to learn to be happy. 

Last night I was watching ‘Mozart and the Whale’ for the first time ever. And while I found the characters to be somewhat caricature-like, I must admit I found it very sweet at the same time. They seemed to get the basics right, but everything seemed exaggerated. What it did do for me, however, was inspire me to write this blog post.

In this film (loosely based on a true story btw) there was this scene, where Isabelle, the female main character, and Donald, the male main character, are at a fun fair, and Donald decided to do some ring tossing in order to win Isabelle a plushie, but his noble intentions were in vain as the sound of the metal rings clanking on the metal bottles sent her right into sensory overload. She covered her ears, let herself fall to the ground and screamed even though she was surrounded by people.

Now, I’ve never actually seen any aspie react THAT strongly, some might though, but I do find that it captures the essence of what negative sensory input can do to one.
My senses have always been heightened compared to those around me. I was always the first in class to complain about the heat or the flickering light that no one else noticed. I couldn’t handle rough fabrics or neon colours or drizzling weather, because the tiny, cold drops felt like thin needles that buried into my skin. Back then I used to think I was perhaps being over-dramatic, that it was all anxiety induced over-stimulation and not the other way around. No one else reacted as strongly as I, and it made me stand out as the sensitive, melodramatic and theatrical kid. But hey – typical girls, right? (NO!)


(What sunshine looks like to me at any given moment)

I really shouldn’t write all this in past tense, for it is as true now as it was back then. I still cannot handle any of those things. For the most part I will endure these awful sensory inputs, but I will still try to remove them or remove myself from them as soon as they occur. That is one of great aspects of having gotten my diagnosis: I now know that there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with me, that it’s perfectly normal for someone like me to feel this way. It has taught me that I don’t always have to accept those inputs – it’s okay to find them unbearable, and it’s very okay to adjust my environment to suit me instead of trying to deal with it, because quite frankly I cannot. With some training I might be able to cope better. It will, however, not go away. I cannot avoid sensory overload my entire life, I will have shut-downs because of this, I will look strange to people and some might find me rude when I withdraw to be alone, but that’s okay. The less I hide, the more people will understand, I believe, even if they cannot accept it.

Being as sensitive as I does have some good sides too, I should mention. All those positive sensory inputs can send me straight to ecstasy! The soft, silky feeling of my cats’ fur beneath my fingers, the sound and earthy scent of rain, a stroke down my back, a tight hug that joins together the scents of both involved, a kiss – God, KISSES! Those delicate, rosy kisses, where the lips gently brush against each other, sending tingles through my entire body rendering my legs gelatinous and non-functioning. With greater sensitivity comes both great pains, but also also bountiful joys. Protecting one’s fragility is important, however if one never dares feel anything, one might as well have been dead. There is much pleasure to be sought – even in the simplest of things. Therefore I can live with all the horrible inputs, I will endure, because the rewards, scarce as they might be sometimes, are so worth it. I may experience the lows of lows and break down when it all becomes too much, but when I’m good, when I’m sensory stimulated in a positive way; I AM ON FIRE!