Graduate school was, in many ways, a step back for me. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that my colleagues also pursuing Ph.D.’s in physical chemistry and chemical physics weren’t the most touchy feely things in the world.
Add in to that my being a member of the opposite gender....
I suspect now that many of these guys came from my same mold. It was not awkward at all to sit in a room together and eat lunch and not say a word to each other. Walking in the lab didn’t merit people to stop what they were doing and welcome you or ask how your day was.
It was easy to settle back into that groove whereby interacting with others was not a necessity. I think back to the doctor’s office whereby I would see a person a few times a year for short spurts and would know so much more about them then the fellow grad students I worked with day in and out. It wasn’t until my final year in grad school that I realized I had developed good relationships with a handful of these guys… after only 5.5 years!
The doctor’s office was really the turning point for me. Talking to others and starting conversations is something that comes a whole lot easier for me now, though I often wonder if my teams tire of me always asking “how are you today?” when they walk into meetings. I wonder if they see through me and I wonder if they see me as a fraud asking this question!
Then on days when my team members phone me and share personal stories or events, like “oh, my dog of 15 years was put down today” or “I really enjoyed this book and wanted to know if you would read it and discuss it with me” or little things like when random smileys pop up on their e-mails. (Can I just say that while I use smileys in blogs and personal e-mails I am not sure if I have EVER used one in a work e-mail?) I feel that no, they know that I really do care. They don’t have to know that I learned this and that it was a long process, they just need to know that I do care. Because I do.
AB commented the other day when we were talking about the daycare rooms at school and I was trying to reconcile the fact that the parents of kids in Skadi’s room for the most part aren’t digging the room we picked for our kids saying it is “cold” and “unfriendly”. I balked a little! It is not! AB’s response was, “well not like you and I are the most warm and fuzzy people around to judge this”.
Nope, I am not. I tend to say things out of turn. I say things that don’t make sense to others. It isn't my natural impulse to hug my team members and I am not always the first friend to offer help. I sometimes have a blank look on my face while I try to process if a question requires a response and what, if any, an appropriate response would be.
As Robison stated in his book - it isn't a disease, it's just part of what makes me "me".
Showing posts with label aspergers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aspergers. Show all posts
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Hypochondriac Post #3
Continuing into phase 2 from this post.
In early high school I joined the gymnastics team. I was pretty good and I enjoyed it. I loved the meets. One day our coach called a meeting where she ranted and raved. She was irate at our team and I had no idea why. She talked about the petty arguments, the backstabbing, the lack of team cohesiveness and then threatened to quit and disband the team.
I was in total shock!
I had been completely out of the loop with the gossip and the back biting going on. I had no idea if it was directed at me or not and became a bit paranoid!
This is something that continues to this day. I have a horrible time picking up on even not so subtle cues especially by people I am not really close with. It often takes me awhile to realize that I have annoyed someone and without it being brought to my attention I wonder how much I would simply miss. How many friends I have lost out on because I never realized their cues that I was doing something wrong.
In groups of people I am not terribly close to? I have rhino skin. I don’t get my feelings hurt and see most statements directed towards me as constructive criticism that I try to learn from. This makes it easy for me to work on a variety of teams and I think it makes me a decent leader, I don’t tend to get my feelings hurt. However, the opposite is true when I get to know someone well – my family and my close friends - my feelings get hurt preemptively and my rhino skin turns to tissue paper. I look for things that I fear I am missing otherwise based off of history.
After gymnastics team that year and swearing I would never go through that again, I fell in pretty quickly with the kids who hung out in the park and smoked – the punk rockers. I had been friends with a few of them since moving to Colorado, but suddenly it was the most inviting group. They didn’t chide me for not wearing my hair just right, or not having a bag from Espirit or clothes from Benetton. I found many of them to be very straight forward. If you ticked them off, they told you so. Expressing indifference was a rewarded quality among my crowd. Brusque, rude behavior… not a problem! I floated along with this crowd and established a few friendships that have stood the test of time.
It wasn’t until I was in college that I realized I had to conquer my “shyness” in order to succeed.
I was working in a histology lab when I was a freshman in college. I was assigned the embedding station with Shana for the day. I didn’t look forward to this because she would talk. Talk and talk about people I didn’t know about nor, really care about. That day we sat down at our station and she said, “I had the most fabulous and weird night last night”. Then there was silence.
“Oh,” I replied lost in my own thought. What was I supposed to say? I had no idea.
She stopped, turned so she was facing me and said a little annoyed acting, “well do you want to hear about it?”
In my mind I was fighting saying - not really – but it dawned on me that the polite thing to do is to say enthusiastically, “YES!” So I said that. I think it was at that point that it first dawned on me that I needed to learn the proper responses to questions like this. But it wasn’t until I moved to Boulder for college, took a job in a dermatologist's office and started dealing with the general public on a daily basis, that I really HAD to put it in motion.
I enjoyed my job at the dermatologist and easily got along well with Dr. Stinkbug. He started increasing his expectations of me and my job there and I fulfilled them. I started working in the rooms with him as an assistant which I really loved. I worked my butt off in his office and when I wasn’t manning the histology lab I was working in rooms and setting up biopsies and other procedures.
Note that I did not say that I was heading into the rooms, introducing myself to patients, talking to them about their procedure and setting up for the procedure.
One day, early in my career at the derm office the doctor told me, “you know, you are really, really smart.” (I took this as the compliment it was meant to be.) And then he went on, “you are one of those people who can probably do anything you want to, but if you plan to go into medicine, then you have to know that if you don’t speak to people, you make them REALLY uncomfortable”. He was one of the first people who was brutally honest with me about what I needed to do to succeed.
I hadn’t realized my job actually had people on the other side who I needed to interact with. I was just doing the job I enjoyed. I spent the day watching his nurse, Jan, who was a very warm and tender person. I watched how she walked in to the rooms. Walked around to face the person in the chair and warmly announced, “Hi! I am Jan and I am Dr. Stinkbug’s nurse. How are you doing today? How is the weather outside? What a pretty dress you have on today! Do you have any questions about the procedure we are going to do?” And with people she knew a little about it went even deeper, “tell me how your daughter is doing! What college is your grandson going to now? How is your job going?”
I went back to my apartment and recited these lines. “How are you today? What is the weather like out there? Do you have any questions?” I was like a broken record.
And I went back in to work the next day and recited these questions to every person whose room I walked into. It seemed terribly monotonous. And I knew what the weather was like out there, there were windows and a door to outside in my lab. But people bought it! It seemed as though I was doing what people expected of me! And despite the fact that I didn’t really care what the answers were to the questions I asked of them, I enjoyed my work even more because for about the first time ever I was succeeding at interacting with strangers! And eventually, when I got to know the patients who came back repeatedly, I built up relationships with these people!
Success!
In early high school I joined the gymnastics team. I was pretty good and I enjoyed it. I loved the meets. One day our coach called a meeting where she ranted and raved. She was irate at our team and I had no idea why. She talked about the petty arguments, the backstabbing, the lack of team cohesiveness and then threatened to quit and disband the team.
I was in total shock!
I had been completely out of the loop with the gossip and the back biting going on. I had no idea if it was directed at me or not and became a bit paranoid!
This is something that continues to this day. I have a horrible time picking up on even not so subtle cues especially by people I am not really close with. It often takes me awhile to realize that I have annoyed someone and without it being brought to my attention I wonder how much I would simply miss. How many friends I have lost out on because I never realized their cues that I was doing something wrong.
In groups of people I am not terribly close to? I have rhino skin. I don’t get my feelings hurt and see most statements directed towards me as constructive criticism that I try to learn from. This makes it easy for me to work on a variety of teams and I think it makes me a decent leader, I don’t tend to get my feelings hurt. However, the opposite is true when I get to know someone well – my family and my close friends - my feelings get hurt preemptively and my rhino skin turns to tissue paper. I look for things that I fear I am missing otherwise based off of history.
After gymnastics team that year and swearing I would never go through that again, I fell in pretty quickly with the kids who hung out in the park and smoked – the punk rockers. I had been friends with a few of them since moving to Colorado, but suddenly it was the most inviting group. They didn’t chide me for not wearing my hair just right, or not having a bag from Espirit or clothes from Benetton. I found many of them to be very straight forward. If you ticked them off, they told you so. Expressing indifference was a rewarded quality among my crowd. Brusque, rude behavior… not a problem! I floated along with this crowd and established a few friendships that have stood the test of time.
It wasn’t until I was in college that I realized I had to conquer my “shyness” in order to succeed.
I was working in a histology lab when I was a freshman in college. I was assigned the embedding station with Shana for the day. I didn’t look forward to this because she would talk. Talk and talk about people I didn’t know about nor, really care about. That day we sat down at our station and she said, “I had the most fabulous and weird night last night”. Then there was silence.
“Oh,” I replied lost in my own thought. What was I supposed to say? I had no idea.
She stopped, turned so she was facing me and said a little annoyed acting, “well do you want to hear about it?”
In my mind I was fighting saying - not really – but it dawned on me that the polite thing to do is to say enthusiastically, “YES!” So I said that. I think it was at that point that it first dawned on me that I needed to learn the proper responses to questions like this. But it wasn’t until I moved to Boulder for college, took a job in a dermatologist's office and started dealing with the general public on a daily basis, that I really HAD to put it in motion.
I enjoyed my job at the dermatologist and easily got along well with Dr. Stinkbug. He started increasing his expectations of me and my job there and I fulfilled them. I started working in the rooms with him as an assistant which I really loved. I worked my butt off in his office and when I wasn’t manning the histology lab I was working in rooms and setting up biopsies and other procedures.
Note that I did not say that I was heading into the rooms, introducing myself to patients, talking to them about their procedure and setting up for the procedure.
One day, early in my career at the derm office the doctor told me, “you know, you are really, really smart.” (I took this as the compliment it was meant to be.) And then he went on, “you are one of those people who can probably do anything you want to, but if you plan to go into medicine, then you have to know that if you don’t speak to people, you make them REALLY uncomfortable”. He was one of the first people who was brutally honest with me about what I needed to do to succeed.
I hadn’t realized my job actually had people on the other side who I needed to interact with. I was just doing the job I enjoyed. I spent the day watching his nurse, Jan, who was a very warm and tender person. I watched how she walked in to the rooms. Walked around to face the person in the chair and warmly announced, “Hi! I am Jan and I am Dr. Stinkbug’s nurse. How are you doing today? How is the weather outside? What a pretty dress you have on today! Do you have any questions about the procedure we are going to do?” And with people she knew a little about it went even deeper, “tell me how your daughter is doing! What college is your grandson going to now? How is your job going?”
I went back to my apartment and recited these lines. “How are you today? What is the weather like out there? Do you have any questions?” I was like a broken record.
And I went back in to work the next day and recited these questions to every person whose room I walked into. It seemed terribly monotonous. And I knew what the weather was like out there, there were windows and a door to outside in my lab. But people bought it! It seemed as though I was doing what people expected of me! And despite the fact that I didn’t really care what the answers were to the questions I asked of them, I enjoyed my work even more because for about the first time ever I was succeeding at interacting with strangers! And eventually, when I got to know the patients who came back repeatedly, I built up relationships with these people!
Success!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Hypochondriac Post #2
One of my common phrases has always been, “I was a painfully shy little girl, but I overcame it”.
However, over the last year or so and particularly when I was reading about Aspergers with regard to Leif, I am wondering if I was really all that shy?
Because I actually think that a lot of my behaviors are more in line with a child with Aspergers than an introvert. I think I will hit this area of Aspergers in three posts - this is the first of three posts with regard to introvertedness/shyness vs. Aspergers.
A few years ago my mentor laughed when I said I was an introvert and said that he would have never pegged me professionally as an introvert and found it puzzling that I was once shy. As an expressive expressive person speaking to an analytical analytical, this was huge to me.
Mild tangent here over to social styles. I think this can be a good tool, however, I think that it is only a tool. In my social styles class there were only two analytical analyticals. Myself and another guy. Both of which our teacher said she wouldn’t have pegged us as such an extreme. She referenced later on our presentations class whereby we gave two of the funniest, most interesting impromptu speeches individually. By definition of analytical analytical, we shouldn’t have been comfortable in this situation at all, yet she found it interesting that we both thrived and didn't display any signs of being uncomfortable with the situation.
Public speaking… this is one thing that surprised my mom when I was in grad school. I was good at it. It isn’t that she thought I would be bad at it, by any means. But it didn’t necessarily fit my shy demeanor. Even now? I actually enjoy getting up and speaking in public and I am not half bad at it.
Off my (somewhat relevant) tangent.
When I headed into kindergarten I had not had any preschool. I had been home with my mom for 5.5 years and it wasn’t like we had bunches of playdates. I met some kids in the neighborhood and she occasionally babysat other kids. But I headed into kindergarten with a lack of social skills. I do not believe that it was a lack of preschool or playdates that caused my lack of social skills. They may have attributed to it, but in no way do I believe that the difficulties I faced with personal interactions well into college, were because I didn’t go to preschool.
I tended to make friends easily as most kids do, but keeping them was a different thing. I had a knack for saying the wrong thing, which then often resulted in the other little girls looking at me funny and walking off. I loved answering questions in class, I loved being at the center of attention (I played Jingle Bells on the piano at our kindergarten Christmas pageant and reveled in being the center of attention) and I always wanted to play the cymbals in music. I enjoyed reading out loud to the class.
What I *think* happened as I look back was that because I didn’t know how to effectively interact in a friendly manner with the other kids, I simply quit trying. If they didn’t want to play with me then who was I to push it? Not to mention, who really wants to spend time with kids who look at you funny when you say something? I didn’t. It wasn’t long before I was spending my recess by myself walking the perimeter of the playground. I remember watching what the other kids were doing and trying to figure out how to behave like them. Some kids saw staying in for recess a punishment, but I was thrilled to stay in and help the teacher with something because it meant I didn’t have to try and interact and it wasn’t in my face that I didn’t have a set of good friends.
In 1st grade we had dancing and I remember being the first one up and in front of the class shaking my booty while the other kids watched and slowly would come up. The shy kids were the last, if they came up at all. We would have annual plays every spring in elementary school and every year I BEGGED for a speaking part. I wanted lead parts and speaking parts SO badly, but was never awarded them. I blogged once about Mrs. Peacock our music teacher. I truly believe that she didn’t give me speaking parts because first, she placated the popularity contest, second, she didn’t like me and third, I had speech problems. It wasn’t for lack of trying for a speaking part. When I was in fourth grade I was finally given a speaking part… I said, “He’s so cuuuute!” and then giggled. One whole line. I wanted the job of memorizing the lines that the other kids had. In fact, I wanted it so bad I memorized all the lines for them so I felt a part of the action.
These things – all told don’t add up to a child who is shy. Instead, I think I became so used to hearing “she’s just shy”, that I thought those were the expectations of me. I didn’t have to learn to interact with the other kids if I was just labeled as “shy”. It was easy!
I wasn’t alone all throughout elementary school by any means either. When I was in third grade I obtained one best friend and she and I navigated our way through the following five years pretty efficiently. Once we hit junior high we hooked up with another couple of girls and had our own little network until I moved at the end of 8th grade. (I was always perplexed that after five years of hanging together, that she never wrote back or returned my phone calls. I figured that once again I had done something stupid.)
Next post - on to junior high and high school.
However, over the last year or so and particularly when I was reading about Aspergers with regard to Leif, I am wondering if I was really all that shy?
Because I actually think that a lot of my behaviors are more in line with a child with Aspergers than an introvert. I think I will hit this area of Aspergers in three posts - this is the first of three posts with regard to introvertedness/shyness vs. Aspergers.
A few years ago my mentor laughed when I said I was an introvert and said that he would have never pegged me professionally as an introvert and found it puzzling that I was once shy. As an expressive expressive person speaking to an analytical analytical, this was huge to me.
Mild tangent here over to social styles. I think this can be a good tool, however, I think that it is only a tool. In my social styles class there were only two analytical analyticals. Myself and another guy. Both of which our teacher said she wouldn’t have pegged us as such an extreme. She referenced later on our presentations class whereby we gave two of the funniest, most interesting impromptu speeches individually. By definition of analytical analytical, we shouldn’t have been comfortable in this situation at all, yet she found it interesting that we both thrived and didn't display any signs of being uncomfortable with the situation.
Public speaking… this is one thing that surprised my mom when I was in grad school. I was good at it. It isn’t that she thought I would be bad at it, by any means. But it didn’t necessarily fit my shy demeanor. Even now? I actually enjoy getting up and speaking in public and I am not half bad at it.
Off my (somewhat relevant) tangent.
When I headed into kindergarten I had not had any preschool. I had been home with my mom for 5.5 years and it wasn’t like we had bunches of playdates. I met some kids in the neighborhood and she occasionally babysat other kids. But I headed into kindergarten with a lack of social skills. I do not believe that it was a lack of preschool or playdates that caused my lack of social skills. They may have attributed to it, but in no way do I believe that the difficulties I faced with personal interactions well into college, were because I didn’t go to preschool.
I tended to make friends easily as most kids do, but keeping them was a different thing. I had a knack for saying the wrong thing, which then often resulted in the other little girls looking at me funny and walking off. I loved answering questions in class, I loved being at the center of attention (I played Jingle Bells on the piano at our kindergarten Christmas pageant and reveled in being the center of attention) and I always wanted to play the cymbals in music. I enjoyed reading out loud to the class.
What I *think* happened as I look back was that because I didn’t know how to effectively interact in a friendly manner with the other kids, I simply quit trying. If they didn’t want to play with me then who was I to push it? Not to mention, who really wants to spend time with kids who look at you funny when you say something? I didn’t. It wasn’t long before I was spending my recess by myself walking the perimeter of the playground. I remember watching what the other kids were doing and trying to figure out how to behave like them. Some kids saw staying in for recess a punishment, but I was thrilled to stay in and help the teacher with something because it meant I didn’t have to try and interact and it wasn’t in my face that I didn’t have a set of good friends.
In 1st grade we had dancing and I remember being the first one up and in front of the class shaking my booty while the other kids watched and slowly would come up. The shy kids were the last, if they came up at all. We would have annual plays every spring in elementary school and every year I BEGGED for a speaking part. I wanted lead parts and speaking parts SO badly, but was never awarded them. I blogged once about Mrs. Peacock our music teacher. I truly believe that she didn’t give me speaking parts because first, she placated the popularity contest, second, she didn’t like me and third, I had speech problems. It wasn’t for lack of trying for a speaking part. When I was in fourth grade I was finally given a speaking part… I said, “He’s so cuuuute!” and then giggled. One whole line. I wanted the job of memorizing the lines that the other kids had. In fact, I wanted it so bad I memorized all the lines for them so I felt a part of the action.
These things – all told don’t add up to a child who is shy. Instead, I think I became so used to hearing “she’s just shy”, that I thought those were the expectations of me. I didn’t have to learn to interact with the other kids if I was just labeled as “shy”. It was easy!
I wasn’t alone all throughout elementary school by any means either. When I was in third grade I obtained one best friend and she and I navigated our way through the following five years pretty efficiently. Once we hit junior high we hooked up with another couple of girls and had our own little network until I moved at the end of 8th grade. (I was always perplexed that after five years of hanging together, that she never wrote back or returned my phone calls. I figured that once again I had done something stupid.)
Next post - on to junior high and high school.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Hypochondriac post #1
I mentioned the other day (after reading a book about Asperger's) that I suspect myself as having a gradient of Aspergers. And no, I am not normally a hypochondriac. And mild Aspergers, not like Jerry on Boston Legal. And not to the extent that John Elder does in the book "Look Me In The Eye". But AB agrees, I easily fall on that spectrum.
When I was in grad school I took one of those “help a fellow grad student out in this field and take this test” things. Afterwards she told me I had Aspergers. At the time I went “what? I don’t have Autism”, and I laughed and went on with my day thinking, "wow, wonder if she ever gets her degree!". I will admit though that this has always lingered in the back of my head. Moreso now that Leif’s teacher has been mentioning Aspergian traits. I just finished reading “Look Me In The Eye” by John Elder Robison and spent many evenings nodding my head. In some chapters I laughed and thought “ok, that’s out there, WAY out there”. Other chapters I wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with the stories he was telling, they sounded normal and a bit comforting.
I have been trying to figure out how to blog about this and have finally decided to just jump in with a series of posts hitting on traits of people with Aspergers and how or why, I see myself and Leif.
One of the weirder chapters I could relate to was Robison’s on naming things or people. The other night after reading that chapter I poured out my soul to AB. I had not talked to anyone about this before, but I have this problem and not only that, but I suspect from a few of Leif’s slip ups – that he also has this problem.
When I see a person, not everyone by far, just random people I know for some reason, I have to think before I say their name. And often, it is just easier for me to avoid saying their name. Because it does NOT fit and even becomes difficult for me to form my mouth and say their name. Want to see me squirm? Have me introduce one of these random people to you. I can usually come up with a name quickly, but the question is whether it is the right name.
The worst is when I slip up. In high school I dated a guy for about two months. He was a nice guy, but I cannot for the life of me remember his name. After 20 years this might make sense. But truth? I couldn’t remember his name when we dated. He was Keith to me. He fit the name Keith. And I slipped up enough in our short dating stint that he was sure I had another boyfriend named Keith. And I didn’t even know anyone named Keith. Explain this one to a new boyfriend… I couldn’t. This was back when I forgot to think hard about something before I opened my mouth - something I try to do, but not always successfully.
Another one? When I first started at the lab I worked with a specialist. He was introduced to me, but I knew his name just looking at him before he was introduced to me. It was Cookie. Yes, Cookie is a very odd name for a man my parent’s age. And amazingly enough it rhymed with his real name, Charlie. Panic comes over me when I see Cookie around the campus because I have to rack my brain to get the guy’s real name so that I can do what I have learned to do and say, “Hi Charlie, how are you?” Thank goodness I don’t work with the guy anymore. Though with most people put me in an instance where I get to know them better and my tendency fades and their name comes more naturally to me.
Calling animals by “The Cat” or “The Dog”. No problem. I do this (not sure if this one is weird or not.) Your pets names? Oh, I would have to think a lot about that. Leif is big on this one. He loves his cat, Lucky, and has declared himself a cat person. He isn’t terribly fond of our dogs but he goes to bed every night with “Cat” on him. “Cat” likes to lay on Leif in bed, which is kind of humorous since “Cat” is also about 19 lbs and Leif is just over twice that. As Leif is falling asleep and his eyes are fluttering he will ask me to “put Cat next to me and make sure he doesn’t leave, I want him here”. Leif knows his name is Lucky, but more often than not, he’s “Cat” to Leif.
One of the very obvious ones from an early age that I blogged about years ago was hearts. Leif still calls hearts “eskimos”. This started long before I suspect he had much of an idea what an Eskimo was, which still perplexes me – because believe me, I know what a cookie is. His teacher at the time found it cute and novel, though a bit perplexing. His current teacher? She calls it Aspergers. Leif has learned that hearts are called hearts, but 9 times out of 10 if you put a heart in front of him he will start with “eski – err, I mean heart”.
And other kids in Leif's class? Until he gets to know them well he doesn't use their name, they are "the kid that knocked his front teeth out" or "that one kid" or "the boy whose dad is a police officer". Is this the same thing? I am not sure.
When I was in grad school I took one of those “help a fellow grad student out in this field and take this test” things. Afterwards she told me I had Aspergers. At the time I went “what? I don’t have Autism”, and I laughed and went on with my day thinking, "wow, wonder if she ever gets her degree!". I will admit though that this has always lingered in the back of my head. Moreso now that Leif’s teacher has been mentioning Aspergian traits. I just finished reading “Look Me In The Eye” by John Elder Robison and spent many evenings nodding my head. In some chapters I laughed and thought “ok, that’s out there, WAY out there”. Other chapters I wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with the stories he was telling, they sounded normal and a bit comforting.
I have been trying to figure out how to blog about this and have finally decided to just jump in with a series of posts hitting on traits of people with Aspergers and how or why, I see myself and Leif.
One of the weirder chapters I could relate to was Robison’s on naming things or people. The other night after reading that chapter I poured out my soul to AB. I had not talked to anyone about this before, but I have this problem and not only that, but I suspect from a few of Leif’s slip ups – that he also has this problem.
When I see a person, not everyone by far, just random people I know for some reason, I have to think before I say their name. And often, it is just easier for me to avoid saying their name. Because it does NOT fit and even becomes difficult for me to form my mouth and say their name. Want to see me squirm? Have me introduce one of these random people to you. I can usually come up with a name quickly, but the question is whether it is the right name.
The worst is when I slip up. In high school I dated a guy for about two months. He was a nice guy, but I cannot for the life of me remember his name. After 20 years this might make sense. But truth? I couldn’t remember his name when we dated. He was Keith to me. He fit the name Keith. And I slipped up enough in our short dating stint that he was sure I had another boyfriend named Keith. And I didn’t even know anyone named Keith. Explain this one to a new boyfriend… I couldn’t. This was back when I forgot to think hard about something before I opened my mouth - something I try to do, but not always successfully.
Another one? When I first started at the lab I worked with a specialist. He was introduced to me, but I knew his name just looking at him before he was introduced to me. It was Cookie. Yes, Cookie is a very odd name for a man my parent’s age. And amazingly enough it rhymed with his real name, Charlie. Panic comes over me when I see Cookie around the campus because I have to rack my brain to get the guy’s real name so that I can do what I have learned to do and say, “Hi Charlie, how are you?” Thank goodness I don’t work with the guy anymore. Though with most people put me in an instance where I get to know them better and my tendency fades and their name comes more naturally to me.
Calling animals by “The Cat” or “The Dog”. No problem. I do this (not sure if this one is weird or not.) Your pets names? Oh, I would have to think a lot about that. Leif is big on this one. He loves his cat, Lucky, and has declared himself a cat person. He isn’t terribly fond of our dogs but he goes to bed every night with “Cat” on him. “Cat” likes to lay on Leif in bed, which is kind of humorous since “Cat” is also about 19 lbs and Leif is just over twice that. As Leif is falling asleep and his eyes are fluttering he will ask me to “put Cat next to me and make sure he doesn’t leave, I want him here”. Leif knows his name is Lucky, but more often than not, he’s “Cat” to Leif.
One of the very obvious ones from an early age that I blogged about years ago was hearts. Leif still calls hearts “eskimos”. This started long before I suspect he had much of an idea what an Eskimo was, which still perplexes me – because believe me, I know what a cookie is. His teacher at the time found it cute and novel, though a bit perplexing. His current teacher? She calls it Aspergers. Leif has learned that hearts are called hearts, but 9 times out of 10 if you put a heart in front of him he will start with “eski – err, I mean heart”.
And other kids in Leif's class? Until he gets to know them well he doesn't use their name, they are "the kid that knocked his front teeth out" or "that one kid" or "the boy whose dad is a police officer". Is this the same thing? I am not sure.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Am I the only one?
Here is probably where I admit to myself where my son's OCD (diagnosed by me) comes from.
Every day when I walk down the hall I walk by an admin’s office. When she is sitting at her computer with nothing up on the screen I get this strange urge to go into her office, scootch her away from her computer on her rolling chair and clean up the icons on her screen. Her entire screen is COVERED in icons. This makes me nuts and I don’t have to sit in front of it, just walk by it! How can she possibly work this way? Find anything?
(For the record I have one, the recycle bin, and I *never* put anything in it there. In fact, if I could get rid of it I would.)
Another...
I have a coworker and routinely I am in her office chatting while she has her Outlook open, as we all do. She has a really great organization system for her e-mails. Folders and subfolders. However, what drives me UP the wall is that many of the folders are bold typeface because they have unread items in them.
Why? Why would you file something, but not open it? Or at least go to the folder, right click and click on “mark all items read”.
I really would like to slide my hand over to her mouse as we chat and "here let me take care of those unread e-mails for you".
I am finishing up "Look Me in the Eye" right now which is a true story about one man's life with Aspergers. There have been suggestions that Leif is on the Aspergers spectrum. As I read the book I have marvelled not at seeing my son in the role, but at all the times I sat there and nodded my head or wondered to myself, "hmm, is this weird? This seems perfectly normal to me."
I was told one time, when I took a test in grad school - you know those tests where you volunteer for a fellow grad student in another department - that I definitely had Aspergers. Then I went back to my lab and looked it up on the internet and scoffed, I wasn't autistic. Though lately as I learn more about Aspergers... I look back to that test and nod my head.
Severe? Nope. On the spectrum? Most definitely.
Every day when I walk down the hall I walk by an admin’s office. When she is sitting at her computer with nothing up on the screen I get this strange urge to go into her office, scootch her away from her computer on her rolling chair and clean up the icons on her screen. Her entire screen is COVERED in icons. This makes me nuts and I don’t have to sit in front of it, just walk by it! How can she possibly work this way? Find anything?
(For the record I have one, the recycle bin, and I *never* put anything in it there. In fact, if I could get rid of it I would.)
Another...
I have a coworker and routinely I am in her office chatting while she has her Outlook open, as we all do. She has a really great organization system for her e-mails. Folders and subfolders. However, what drives me UP the wall is that many of the folders are bold typeface because they have unread items in them.
Why? Why would you file something, but not open it? Or at least go to the folder, right click and click on “mark all items read”.
I really would like to slide my hand over to her mouse as we chat and "here let me take care of those unread e-mails for you".
I am finishing up "Look Me in the Eye" right now which is a true story about one man's life with Aspergers. There have been suggestions that Leif is on the Aspergers spectrum. As I read the book I have marvelled not at seeing my son in the role, but at all the times I sat there and nodded my head or wondered to myself, "hmm, is this weird? This seems perfectly normal to me."
I was told one time, when I took a test in grad school - you know those tests where you volunteer for a fellow grad student in another department - that I definitely had Aspergers. Then I went back to my lab and looked it up on the internet and scoffed, I wasn't autistic. Though lately as I learn more about Aspergers... I look back to that test and nod my head.
Severe? Nope. On the spectrum? Most definitely.
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