Uncharted territory
It's been a time of grieving, heartbreak and revelation for the both of us here. A gigantic reset, from my particular point of view.
I can't, or don't want to, talk about everything here in my public blog, out of respect for individuals involved. In previous years gone by, I was semi-automatically punitive in my remarks; and admittedly, I needed to grow up, to put it harshly. But I can't stay completely silent, either. These blogs are a stamp in my history that I would like folks to be able to look back on long after I'm gone. (I am NOT signaling my demise here either!) It's a bit of a testament to me; that people can evolve and change for the better, but I don't want to delete any of them either, especially the ones that make my views look questionable. I think we all want to change for the better. Looking back at some of my old entries, it's like another person wrote them sometimes, for better or worse. But a stunning revelation has fallen upon me that helps me make sense of so much of how my life has unfolded:
I believe, after extensive research and discussion with a few folks, namely Janice, that I am autistic.
Though I haven't been 'officially' diagnosed as such, both Janice and I have done a deep dive on the possibility that I am, and it seems resoundingly evident that this has been an issue with me from the get-go. I don't mean 'I'm on the spectrum' on the outer edges or anything, either. I mean that I'm flat-out autistic. I've learned from researching that no two autistic people are the same, but many share common traits. The main one being that autistic people have brains that work very differently from others'. And it's like... Hello!! I've forever thought that I was quite different from everyone else in a rather stark sense, at least to myself. I will notate in this blog, which I will write in increments but publish all at once, how this is true with myself.
What I think I'd really like to know is feedback from people who actually know me if they believe this is on the mark or not. One of the big signals, at least to me, is THIS. What you're reading. I can't articulate myself verbally near as well as I do in writing, for the most part. If I'm completely comfortable around someone, I will verbalize things better, but if there's even a hint of a barrier, that will be compromised somewhat. Being on THC also helps me relax and be more forthcoming and articulate better, though the "squirrel!" factor becomes rather abundant.
I was kind of thrown in school at a very early age, when I was five. For seven years, I was the youngest kid in my class. Most kids that age are still in kindergarten, but I don't know that kindergarten was much of a thing in 1970. Alas, I seemed to wind up being the 'baby' in every classroom, perhaps because my birthday lands at the end of the year. I was always kind of odd. Not necessarily in a bad way, but my view of the world, in retrospect, was quite different from the norm. It didn't help that my home life was quite turbulent at times, often because of the numerous oddities presented by my potentially autistic self. I never did really well in school, ultimately being a consistent 'C' grade student, improving as I went up until grade seven when I failed the first time. That was the year my dad died, and shortly after that I got a concussion from a line drive baseball. For the first time in school, in 1977, I was bullied quite badly, and that continued until I got out of Queen Elizabeth School. That year, actually, in my homeroom with Mr. Chiasson, my cousin John had my back a few times and really helped ground me a bit, perhaps crucially so in retrospect. Ultimately, at times, I somewhat became that bully as I trudged through junior high. I'm not excusing it, but that sounds like a form of acting out, especially if I was likely autistic. My attention span with most things was rather weak, but ridiculously strong in others. I could memorize speeches word for word three pages long, nail every word in spelling, and be quite an entertainer at times, but math was a tough sell for me. So was history, though when I went to school, it just wasn't taught very much. Such was our school system for the time.
Then I was hit by a car three friggin' times, in successive years, at 12, 13 and 14. Two on a bike, one as a pedestrian. The concussions rolled in furiously, which really, really didn't help matters. This pronounced my oddness even louder, especially looking back. I absolutely tormented my sister Cindy, who's six or seven years older than me. I constantly broke things as a kid, not just my stuff, but everyone else's, namely Cindy's, without much regret. I was ridiculously addicted to video games and pinball machines, both of which you could only use if you went to an arcade and dropped quarters. One time with my buddy Larry, who was privately navigating his own crises, we went to the bowling alley where they had a games room, and a video game didn't go my way and I smashed my fist through the protective glass. No one around noticed, and we just kept playing it for a few minutes, then left so as not to look conspicuous. I would take fits of rage at times, which I now know were autistic meltdowns. Self harm was a thing most of my life, even before my accidents, but I used to think that all originated from my history of concussions. But no... my behavior pre-dated my injuries. Realizing today that I may have been autistic all along explains a hell of a lot.
It should be noted too, that I have not been officially diagnosed as autistic. I brought up the idea to my doctor many years ago, but he just shrugged it off, given my history of head injuries and their ramifications. Now I feel like those accidents just pronounced what was wrong even more. I feel less like my injuries explain my eccentricities and more like it was a pronouncement of something that I was likely born with. Considering also that my Dad was a drinker and Mom had me when she was 40, it kind of contributes to that hypothesis. Also, note that my articulation in my blogs is all ME. I don't ever use auto-correct or AI to write anything, ever. For better or worse, everything you've ever read in my blogs is all me, unless I otherwise indicate it. If there are mistakes I see after I publish, I leave them in, because I appreciate the human element of my storytelling. I think readers do, too. And the stats on my blogs here tell me that quite a few folks worldwide read them - which floors me. Not gigantic numbers or anything, but a lot more than just locally or something.
I didn't make a hell of a lot of friends through my life, but the ones I did make became close friends. Friends like the aforementioned Larry, the Lirette brothers, Keith, the Longphees, Darren and others - though I just couldn't quite always mesh with the extended crowds of those fellas. I made friends with more as the years went of course, playing in bands with a lot of them. I did teach myself completely how to play drums that my brother Greg gifted me, which opened a lot of doors to knowing some crucial people in my life. I wasn't easy to deal with at times, to put it mildly, though. Some of the strange things I did without real explanation likely repelled kids that didn't want anything to do with my oddness. And I get it! I didn't really communicate much with people I didn't know, and was even afraid of them a lot of the time. It's certainly not that I didn't care about others - when I was younger, a lot of my friends sought me out for my point of view or advice, which I took pride in, actually. I really did care a lot when they took the time to get my feedback. Sometimes I would talk on the phone for hours. But boy did that change!
After failing in grade seven, I got through the repeat, and then failed grade eight. I repeated that and scraped through, and then failed grade nine, too, but they put me through anyway if I went to summer school, which seemed like grade five or something. I think it was just to make sure I, and the rest of that class, had all our wits about us to make it through high school. Then I barely scraped through grades ten and eleven, only to fail again in grade 12. High school, on a social level, was worse for me. I was quieter, more to myself, and looking back, all the markers of autism were there. The odd humor, weird habits, sharp focus on some things but none on others, attention to weird details, and seeing things others might not. And the self-harm got worse as the years progressed. The world of autism was exhibiting itself through me, but I was oblivious to it, simply because I didn't know I was. Neither did anyone else. Not to mention, autism wasn't very well understood in the grand old eighties.
Not forgetting, of course, the stigma that would have been associated with having that label of being autistic. Even now, being open about the idea of it, I hesitate a little, because I ponder how people would see me if they actually thought I was. The perception of people with autism today has come a long way from then, though. In many cases, people with autistic traits are venerated today. To be clear, I'm not the "Rain Man" kind of autistic. I'm not sure yet what class of it I would be, that requires more research and reflection. But I'm nearly 100% certain that I am fairly deep into the spectrum. I did take a recommended online survey, and it indicated that I "more than likely" was autistic.
Work life was tumultuous, to say the least. There isn't a job I've ever had where I didn't have meltdowns at work. Feelings of inferiority, being incapable, or that I didn't belong were consistent, all the way up to my last job when I was forced into retirement six years ago. I even wondered if I should ever have been working all along - but then my growth would have stagnated to the point where no one would have been able to deal with me. So I don't have any regrets about not being diagnosed. That doesn't mean that it was easy to get through. It forced me to try to be "normal", so to speak, as much as I could be. This is referred to in the autistic community as "masking", or compensating what I perceived to be my shortcomings to try to fit in. My view of the world is very different from most people's, and until now, I always wondered why.
Relationships have always been kind of a challenge for me, be they friends or family or work. The girlfriends I had were all fine people, and I look back fondly on all of them - but now today, I feel a bit guilty for how much of a moron I may have appeared to be at times. Though really you don't have to be autistic to achieve that! But some of my worst moments now make sense to me today in light of recent discoveries. In particular Janice, Michelle and Patcy were on the frontlines. I likely wouldn't have Janice today if I didn't even have autism, too, and I'm not willing to trade any reality for that. But I must have seemed like the quirkiest sumbitch ever to the other two! They're friends with me today too, among others, so God love them for being so ridiculously patient with me. Those women all made me look good - they were smart and beautiful, and that's a wonderful combination for me. I should be clear there were others but I just don't want to mention too many names, out of respect. And love.
My buddies that I got on with later might concur about my behavior. I can remember how difficult I was at times with the friends I jammed with... we had to rehearse a song to perfection because if I thought it was off from the original, I'd crack the whip and make whoever it was learn it. Thing is, they all went along with it! I would hope today that they would look back on it endearingly. I get quite the chuckle thinking about it. It was Pete, Wayne, "Tweak" Wayne (we called him Tweak because he was notorious for adjusting his guitar volume, and we needed to differentiate between him and the other Wayne) and myself in our Asylum band back in '87. As time went on, band members changed and I jammed with others, and I just don't think anyone after that original band I had really understood me. I actually consider Pete and Wayne 1 to be honorable brothers of mine. We went through all ranges of trials over the years, and learned through all of them. Those two have seen the blunt brunt of my quirkiness in varying degrees over the years. Many though, of which I shake my head at.... asking myself, "who are you, really?" It's ridiculously hard for me to forgive myself for past transgressions, because with my type of mind, they stick. I second or third or fourth (etc.) guess everything later. I think a lot of those things they might not even remember, but my brain leaves a bright friggin' light on them so I can find it more easily in those canals of gray matter. And that light is like one of those LED bulbs. It won't friggin' die.
Anyway, many of those friends I haven't seen in forever, and likely won't because we've spread out geographically, and otherwise. Now I wonder if my odd behavior is kind of beyond my control. Like telling your dog to be a bird - pointless and futile. Self-acceptance is something to be worked on, I think.
What autism might be beneficial with me for is my spiritual growth. I think it's helping me clue into it more than maybe if I wasn't. The most important thing I'm learning is the 'what about me?' shutoff switch. I look back on past blogs and cripes, I just want to wretch at some of it. But understanding that I'm likely autistic grants me some relief, though I don't want it as a crutch either. I've really been digging into the gnostic world and the esoteric. And let me tell you, determining that there is no actual 'hell' as we know it when you pass on is so, so freeing. If you want to begin your own awakening journey, that would be a helpful start. And prepare to not feel guilty or threatened... also so freeing.
In the end, assuming that I'm autistic, I'm reflecting heavily on it these days. I'm learning to forgive myself for where that might have been a factor. Also, it's a work in progress. And this school I might not graduate from either, but I can try. This is, after all for me, uncharted territory.
Here's a helpful video that I relate to quite a bit that explains things in a way that I'm not necessarily doing:
Thank you if you're reading this. And hey, Mike in the future: This was the time things really started looking up.
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