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I've got a brother close in age who was diagnosed at the same stage as you. High functioning autism wasn't on anyone's radar when he was growing up so all his quirks just got sublimated into "that's just Gary's personality." It means nowadays I make friends with certain guys really easily, because there's something easy and familiar about hanging out with them, like slipping on an old comfy shoe. It's never until they confess they've been diagnosed or that they think they should be diagnosed that I realise it's those autistic traits I'm picking up on: the tones and rhythms of their voices, that deliberateness in choosing to make eye contact when talking, a certain rigidity, a welling enthusiasm for the nitty gritty details of their current obsessions. My data's skewed because I hang out in nerdy circles, but there's a surprising minority of mostly men in our generation in a similar position to yours. His kids have been diagnosed as having inherited his autism so it'll be interesting to see what difference early years intervention will make. His eldest has these quirks that remind me of his father... E: I realised I didn't even ask you a question! How difficult do you find it making eye contact with other people when talking? Now Gary's been diagnosed he's relaxed about trying to cover up his autistic traits, so he doesn't bother making eye contact with family other than this kids any more. codswallop fucked around with this message at 19:26 on Oct 6, 2019 |
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Oct 6, 2019 19:03
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credburn posted:Eye contact sucks and I hate it. I practice really hard at maintaining it during conversation, but sometimes my focus is so centered on that that I lose track of what the other person is saying. The more anxious I am, the harder it is. When I make eye contact, I feel like I'm suddenly on a perfectly even.... what is the word? It's like the person I'm speaking with and myself are exactly equal in terms of social position, mutual respect, all that. And it's like a secret battle of attrition. Each second I feel weaker and weaker, and smaller, like I'm being judged, and I feel like my ability to think creatively or maintain an awareness of my surroundings diminishes. I have to give up eye contact briefly to reset myself, and try to pretend like I'm not being overwhelmed by judgment and criticism. I didn't realise it was such an intense experience! I'm poo poo at remembering to make eye contact myself, since I picked up bad habits from Gary and our likely-autistic father, but it's never been an aversion for me. And thank you for making the effort through all that struggle. Even when it's a little glance before you disengage your eyes again, it's a real clear and appreciated visual signal that you're engaged.
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Oct 7, 2019 16:34
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