Blurting? Impulse control and Aspergers.



Today I had a small victory, one of many. I drove past the window cleaner at the end of the street without shouting 'Window Cleaner!' at him as I went past.

No, I don't usually shout this or anything else at him, it was just that today it was my first impulse. I saw him, he was up the ladder, cleaning the windows and there it was, the sudden impulse to shout to him.

It's as if there is a need to state the obvious, loudly, almost joyfully, so that seeing something or someone is all it takes for me to verbally state the fact I have seen them.

It feels like a natural expression too, not immediately something I should stop. I see it, I think it and at the same time I want to say it. And sometimes I do say it.

Aspies are well known for their brutal logic, seeing something and commenting on it, regardless of consequences. This isn't the same as unbridled blurting; it is the stating of logic, of a thought or a judgement. Shouting 'window cleaner' at the window cleaner is not logical - he knows he is a window cleaner, I know he is one and neither of us would really appreciate me announcing it to the world.

And I know I'm not alone in speaking when I should just shut up and keep it shut, in letting things slip and realising once it's too late to rein them back in. That would be blurting, even if the blurting doesn't feel like it to me. That would be the mind going along with the flow and inserting what seems like a good, relevant idea into the conversation at the first moment, without looking past the moment to what might happen next.

Wanting to label life, as I think of it, to call out what I see, or what I am feeling at the time, or (my personal favourite, readers) to suddenly give voice to a word that has presented itself in my mind, feels like my inner thoughts hopping the divide and being outside. They are still my thoughts, they just happen to be on the wrong side of me.

I tell you, this has created many small, hurried cover stories, especially in lessons and especially if I'm tired and my guard is down. I'll be sitting there, quiet while the student works in a hushed room, no background sound and then: Ostrich!

Yes, ostrich was one of those times.

I can't remember how I got out of that one. If the student is small enough it's much easier as they accept any old gubbins I can come up with on the spot, or I just tell them I felt like talking about ostriches. Try explaining it to a teenager though.

There is a joy to it though. These words are like singular little spots of light bouncing out into the world - I do feel better once they are said, even more so if I'm on my own at the time and don't have to explain them. It feels right to get them out there, to say them in the first place, and this means it can be hard not to speak and to keep them in.

So, I didn't shout at the window cleaner (really lucky, he was up his ladder after all), and I might not shout anything about ostriches or boats, cake or sluices (memorable one, that) for the rest of the day. I know it's only a matter of time before I do give in to impulse and let rip one of the many extraordinary, or ordinarily ordinary, words in my vocabulary and have to use my imagination to cover the fact.

Here's to the triumph of imagination over impulse control. And the safety of Window Cleaner!s everywhere.

Amanda

 A Guide to Your Aspie

 How to talk to your Aspie



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Do you have to care?



All the times and years and days of wondering if you can feel okay and fit right in...does it really matter? How would it be if you didn't care?

Not the blustering kind of not caring where you put on your best face and hurry past; the other kind where you go past because you were already going that way and-just-don't-care.

Not caring, not worrying or stopping to look back and see if it was all right this time. Not climbing into the car with that relieved sigh you keep for when something is almost over and you are on your way home. Let's just get in the car and go home.

Not looking sideways, edgeways, round your nose, over the top of the glasses, from under the fringe, behind the phone, round the display, out of your coat hood. None of it, just going by and being there and doing whatever you came to do and

it not even occurring to you to care.

Not caring, not being careful around others, not watching your words or what you wear, not trying to be this because there is no room, you are already being what you really always are.

No rebellion involved, no fancy thoughts of emotional freedom, mental strength or the other bull we feed ourselves in lonely hours trying to be real.

Just you as you were meant to be and me as I am, and Life as it was meant to be lived.

Don't care, don't cry about it, don't wonder if you got it right. If you fall up the steps, you fell, it doesn't matter if anyone saw you. It's the same with the rest of life, you go where you need to be, where you want to be and sometimes you fall right on your face.

If someone saw you, so what? Maybe they'll help you up. But don't start caring that someone saw you fall. No one puts the right foot forward every time.

Don't care, only be caring, be careful when you need to be, but mostly be careless and keep putting one foot in front of the other. You do that often enough, you learn how to walk without thinking.

Care only when it matters. The rest of the time, be care-free.

Amanda



 A Guide to Your Aspie

 How to talk to your Aspie



My books and writing blog, with free stuff.
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The soft light of the quiet day



An empty room, a quiet house, an understanding that there is nothing to be done today, or tomorrow: that nothing can stretch out over as many days and weeks as I want.

The loveliness of being home, the joy of not having to be anywhere else. This is what freedom feels like.

There is no loneliness, only solitude. No knock at the door or grasping, grabbing world coming up in the street. The clock ticks, the hands turn, the light moves across the mirror.

Best would be a day of rain, gentle rain that takes all day to finish falling. The outside sheened through the glass and if I look close, the trees are blurred within it. The window, open enough to hear the rain without letting it in and the brief patters as the drops blow against the sill.

This is the sort of day that I want to last forever, the kind of peace I think of when I sit in traffic jams or wait for a student to do their work. Surrounded by the lives of others I yearn for my own, as if it also belonged to someone else.

We all know, in the real world, there is a price to pay for staying in, not meeting the world, not being the person who can do that. But in those quiet times when the perfect life is momentarily here, homesickness washes over me for the quiet room, the rain, the soft light of the quiet day.

Amanda



 A Guide to Your Aspie

 How to talk to your Aspie



My books and writing blog, with free stuff.
Find me on Facebook.and Twitter!