When I is Not Really Me

by Capriwim

One of the most frustrating things about Asperger Syndrome is that I find I sometimes react to certain things in a way that is quite different from what is considered the norm. This is because my brain sometimes perceives things differently from other people, and often has different values and priorities. And so there are times when I can’t understand why people are reacting the way they are, and times when people can’t understand why I am reacting the way I am.

I think it’s important to draw attention to the fact that this lack of understanding goes both ways. I find that when people on the autistic spectrum fail to understand someone’s reaction, this is seen as ‘lack of empathy’ – but, when someone who is not on the autistic spectrum fails to understand the reaction of an autistic person, this is seen as a case of ‘autistic people are a puzzle’ and a justification for representing us as a jigsaw puzzle piece. These double standards are unhelpful. They place all responsibility for lack of understanding on the autistic person, and create a divide between those who are on the spectrum and those who aren’t.

A more helpful and respectful approach would be to see autism and lack of autism as two different cultures – like, say, the German and the French – living alongside each other, and for both sides to try to educate each other about their differences and to make an effort to try to understand each other. And, most importantly, for both sides to recognise that underneath the differences, they are both human and thus have an awful lot in common, too.

This is what I attempt to do in my blog. I wish to explain what it’s like to have Asperger’s in a way that makes people think, ‘Actually, it does make sense for a person to act in such a way, if this is what is going on in their head.’ I want to lower the divide, and to be seen as a human rather than a puzzle.

In one of my posts, I mention difficulty with pronouns – the confusion of me being ‘I’ when I talk about myself, but ‘you’ when someone else talks about me. I talked about how I found this confusing as a child, but was able to understand how the pattern worked when it was explained to me. Unfortunately, grasping the correct usage of pronouns didn’t mean that pronouns caused no more problems. However, the kinds of problems they then caused were not visible to others in the way they would be if I were simply using the wrong pronoun. The new problems they caused me as a child manifested in a way that was completely incomprehensible to others.

As a child, I liked singing songs. At least, I liked all songs except one. There was one song that caused me great distress when I learnt it at five years old at school. It was the song that goes like this:

One, two, three, four, five;
Once I caught a fish alive.
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten;
Then I let it go again.
Why did I let it go?
Because it bit my finger so

There are two more lines after this, but I never heard them, because at this point, I would start screaming loudly and steadily, and stick my fingers in my ears. I didn’t want a fish to bite my finger. And ‘I’ and ‘my’ refer to me when I use those words, so this would mean that a fish had bitten my finger. I couldn’t simply not sing because the teacher had told us to sing. It was like the teacher was making a fish bite my finger. So I screamed, out of terror, because I didn’t want to sing these words, because I didn’t want a fish to bite my finger, or to have bitten my finger. I didn’t mind singing about catching a fish, because I wouldn’t mind catching a fish, but I didn’t want to sing that song.

I simply didn’t understand that the song was about a fictional ‘me,’ and that even though I was singing it, it didn’t really mean me, but it was more like telling a story about a ‘her.’ Perhaps if someone had explained this to me, I’d have been okay with singing it. But of course no one explained that to me, because it didn’t occur to anyone that this needed to be explained to me. Most people see it as quite obvious.

My teacher was quite startled when she first taught this song and I screamed. She asked me what was wrong, and whether I was hurt. I couldn’t explain what was wrong, and she got impatient and told me to stop screaming because I was spoiling it for everyone else. That was a common criticism aimed at me – I was always spoiling things for everyone else. My behaviour was unpredictable and I was generally seen as naughty – so my screaming was just seen as another instance of naughtiness and unpredictability. Teachers would mostly try to stop me screaming rather than try to get to the root of the problem.

Anyway, the teacher got us to sing the song on several occasions, and each time, I screamed. I eventually screamed that I didn’t like the song and I didn’t like the fish biting my finger. My teacher told me impatiently that it was only a song. But ‘only a song’ didn’t mean anything to me, and I started up a new batch of screaming when she introduced a new ‘fun’ song to us, entitled ‘I’m taking home a baby bumblebee.’ I’d experienced wasp stings, and the thought of singing about a bee stinging me seemed like the most awful thing ever – even worse than a fish biting my finger.

Of course, my teacher didn’t understand my reaction, and looking back, even if I’d been the most articulate child in the world, I would not have been able to explain it to her, because an explanation would require a knowledge of the fact that I didn’t understand that singing songs in the first person didn’t literally mean I was singing about myself. Had I possessed this knowledge, there would have been no problem in the first place to have to explain! So I can only explain it now in retrospect.

Also in retrospect, I know that the most useful thing for me would have been someone actually explaining to me that some songs use ‘I’ instead of ‘he’ and ‘she,’ but that this is just a story-telling custom, and that it doesn’t mean they are about me. And it would have been very handy to have been told that I didn’t have to sing if I didn’t want to.  But of course, my teacher had no way of knowing this, because I had no way of explaining my difficulty to her.

I think it is this sort of difficulty that makes people see autism as a puzzle – but it is a difficulty that can be addressed when people on the autistic spectrum are able to understand their difficulties in retrospect, with more knowledge. And then people who are not on the spectrum, once they realise that autistic people see things differently, are able to see their own assumptions from the outside – from the perspective of someone who doesn’t hold the same assumptions – and then explain them, rather than assuming they are assumptions that everyone shares. So this is a way that mutual understanding can be reached.

About the Author: Capriwim is a young woman with Asperger’s Syndrome. This piece first appeared on her blog, Aspects of Aspergers, and is reprinted here by permission.



2 thoughts on “When I is Not Really Me

  1. Rebecca B says:

    AMAZING! Thank you!

  2. CHRISTIAN says:

    There are several reasons why this post resonated with me. I was diagnosed as autistic at five years old, but have been since classified as a high-functioning autistic, which to me really means that I have aspects of Asperger’s, but still find that I can “pass” as non-autistic in mixed company. I contracted West Nile Virus in 2006, and since then, it seems that components of my a-spectrum behavior has changed, become more amplified in my day-to-day life. That’s background…

    When I was a child, there was one song that I could not listen to or hear without experiencing a complete and total breakdown. That song was: Puff the Magic Dragon. Unfortunately, I didn’t know I would have such a reaction until my parents – both den parents for my cub scout troop – decided to use the song in a performance. Without fail, I had to be taken from the room whenever the song was played, and that eventually led to the disgraceful ban of my presence in my own parents’ troop functions, and my eventual removal from the cub scout system completely. Because of a song.

    No one seemed to understand the ferocity of my reaction – nor did I. But to this day I cannot listen to it. The best I can come up with in retrospect was that the song was about a child, little Jackie Paper, who was so misunderstood, but finally found someone who understood him: the dragon. And when that dragon was left alone, as Jackie moved on to other things, he languished and most likely died. The overwhelming emotions that scenario brought/brings up for me was too much, and I could only respond by needing to be sedated. It would not be the last time I “lost it” due to an overload of emotion, and still need to be careful when in public lest I break down.

    Thank you so much for posting this. It’s the first time I’ve felt connected to “others” who know what I went through. And now I’m 50. That’s a long time to feel adrift in a lonely sea. 🙂

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