The Big Eight O

Trey Smith

If my mother were still alive, she would have turned 80 today. As it is, she didn't live to see 60. She died nearly 22 years ago.

So, today represents nothing more than a day of remembrance and yet, I only vaguely remember my mom. Because of the way my autistic brain works, I can't hear her voice in my mind. If not for photographs, I wouldn't remember what she looked like. I certainly don't remember her presence. All I do remember are facts and tidbits that have been stored away in my rational archives.

In some ways, my lack of personalized memories is sort of sad. On the other hand, I see some benefit to it as well. I don't tend to dwell on the past like so many other people do. I soak in the present and, when now becomes then, it disappears down the proverbial rabbit hole.

This Is Even Harder Than I Thought

Trey Smith

I realized going into this situation -- of foreclosure and moving -- that it would be very hard on my psyche, but it is proving to be much harder than I thought. It can't be helped, though. Somebody has to do all this culling and cleaning -- Della's health precludes her from being that person. By default, that leaves me.

For the last two decades or so, it has always worked out this way. Each time we've moved, I've had the major responsibility for culling, packing, moving and cleaning. As our chief breadwinner, Della had to focus on work. Since even when I worked, my schedule has tended to be more flexible, these duties have fallen to me.

This time around, however, it is a heavy burden to shoulder. Unlike times in the past, we are going through a severe downsizing. In basic terms, this means that we will take to Ocean Shores about one-third of our current possessions. For the most part, it is left to me to decide which two-thirds of our possessions we will try to sell or donate.

Mind you, the letting go of "stuff" isn't as difficult as it used to be. As you get older, you realize that a lot of the stuff you've been carting around from move to move just isn't all that damn important...even for a person like me! So, if that isn't the problem, what is?

As an autistic individual who relishes having things in their proper places, I am slowly and methodically removing those proper places from the mix. It is not so much that the getting rid of specific items is what is weighing me down; it is more the fact that those specific items occupied a particular space and, when the items are moved to Ocean Shores, boxed up or thrown away, the spaces themselves change or disappear altogether. And so, I find myself living in a house that each day feels more and more foreign.

Despite the fact I have made a good deal of progress, there remains a lot to do. Culling and sorting stuff in the basement looks like a week-long project. Culling and sorting items in the rest of house will take an additional week or two. I'm guessing it will take 7 - 10 days to prepare, clean and mark items for our big moving sale and I haven't even begun the process of major cleaning (which I can't really start to tackle until the other aforementioned tasks are near completion).

I now realize it is wholly unrealistic that I will be done by my birthday (Oct. 25). In fact, it is not even realistic to think I can be done and out of here by November 1. My new goal is to be in Ocean Shores full-time by Thanksgiving Day. All the while, I am battling anxiety and depression as I slowly dismantle the spaces that have meant so much to me these past 6+ years.

You Could Say That I'm One of the Lucky Ones

Trey Smith

It is not uncommon at all for those of us with a form of autism to go through life without ever having an intimate teenage or adult relationship. I suppose, in this regard, you could say that I'm one of the lucky ones. While culling through boxes of old keepsakes, I came across a satchel filled with old love letters.

Upon reading a few, they seemed so quaint. I sounded like your average lovestruck teenager! Some made me laugh and a few made me tear up. Many exposed the angst I suffered from unrequited love.

While it was nice to go strolling down memory lane, I realized that, in the overall scheme of things, I can count the total number of girlfriends on less than two hands and the number of "serious" relationships on less than one hand. I have a niece who has dated more times in one year than I have in 50+ years! In fact, I think most teenagers probably have dated more in high school than I did from junior high until now.

By my count, I had two girlfriends in junior high, 1 during my high school years, two during college and two (both of whom I married...at separate times) post-college. Of those 7, three could be categorized as "serious" ones.

My first real girlfriend in junior high told a friend of mine years later that I was a rather strange boyfriend. Not only did I never kiss her, I never even tried to hold her hand! It's not that I didn't want to do those things -- plus a few others -- it is more that I have trouble reading people and so I couldn't tell if she would be receptive.

To remedy this problem, I usually waited for the young lady to make the first and, sometimes, the second move.

Firmly in the Grip

Trey Smith

The seminal event in my life was watching my beloved maternal grandmother die before my eyes. One minute she was her usual self and, in no time at all, she wasn't "with" us any longer. I was 27 years old and my whole understanding of life changed dramatically on that pivotal day.

It is not that someone close to me had not died before that moment. My paternal grandfather died when I was 19. A close friend of our family had passed away before I even made it to my teenage years. So, it wasn't that I didn't understand the concept of loss -- it is more than I had never personally witnessed the extinguishing of a human life in my presence.

From that day forward, death has had a grip on me. Not a day goes by when I don't think about it. Often, the thoughts are about my own death, but just as frequently, I think about the deaths of those close to me. I know I don't embrace life half as much as I could because the cold hand of death is always on my shoulder. It is a shadow that I can't seem to shake.

A large part of the problem has to do with my autism. I hate surprises! I loathe deviations to my routine. Death is the ultimate deviation, so I must be on constant guard. The only way I can hope to cope with death is to be aware of it constantly. I can't allow it to sneak up on me to snatch my life or someone else's without warning. So, I am hypersensitive to ANY suggestive signs of it.

It is a tortuous way to live. I'm sure it is one of the chief reasons I don't go to bed until I am thoroughly exhausted. When I climb into bed and I am not thoroughly exhausted, my mind races and my friend, death, always lurks close by. I often wish it would quit skulking around the edges and simply put me out of my misery.

The only way it will release it's grip on me is to set me free into the mysterious void.

~

I don't want readers to misunderstand what I am sharing here. I am not contemplating suicide or anything of that nuture.  For the most part, I want to live as long and as well as I am able.  That said, I would be lying if I told you that it is not uncommon for me to go to bed with the hope simply of not waking up...just drifting off into oblivion.

In truth, it really isn't death that has a grip on me -- it is the act of dying.   If I could arrive at the former without having to deal with the latter, I think I would be a very happy camper.

The "Doctor" Is In

Trey Smith

Most of the posts I pen concern philosophy and politics, but from time to time, I share with you my ongoing challenges from the variety of conditions I have been blessed with. I have written quite a bit about my trials and tribulations with Klinefelter's Syndrome, Asperger's Syndrome, Fibromyalgia and Schizotypal Personality Disorder. There are two reasons for this, other than the fact I am basically an open person.

For starters, being autistic, I have hard time figuring out proper social boundaries. While the average bloke may have a good sense of knowing what is too much personal information, I tend to be clueless! So, rather than trying to unravel a knot that generally is lost on me anyway, I tend to lay it all out there. I suppose it's a good thing that I am disabled and don't work because, in this day and age where potential employers farm the internet for information about job applicants, I probably have shared enough personal information to scare any of them away! :D

There is another reason why I am so open. Many of the conditions I have are ones that people generally don't talk about, except in hushed tones. If an individual suspects or has learned that they have one or more of these maladies, it often engenders a lonely feeling. It leads to questions like, why me? How will I ever cope? How can I lead a "normal" life?

Because of my writings on these topics, it is not uncommon for me to receive emails from individuals who suspect or have recently been diagnosed with Klinefelter's Syndrome, Asperger's Syndrome, Fibromyalgia or Schizotypal Personality Disorder. While I most certainly am NOT a doctor, I can reach out to say it is not the end of the world. All of these conditions and syndromes are merely labels. They don't change the person you are; they merely define many of the challenges you face.

Since I have made it to 55 and I'm still going, it is a testament to the fact that a person's life doesn't end when you learn of your label[s]. This is not to say that my life has been a piece of cake -- it definitely has not -- but I somehow have been able to continue to muddle through. If I can do it, I see no reason why you can't either.

A Stranger in My House

Trey Smith

On Friday night, I discovered a stranger in my house: my wife! For the first time in nearly two months, Della was able to come home. It was so good to see her...sort of.

One of the hallmark characteristics of autism is the formation of routines. For most of the past 28+ years, my routine has included Della. When she first went off to White Salmon to serve in AmeriCorps, I was lost. Even though I spent most of my time puttering around by my lonesome, Della was close by. When she left, she removed herself from my periphery and my routine seemed somehow out of kilter.

I struggled that first week to adapt. In time, I did and so a new routine was established. This new routine was that of a single man with 2 dogs and a cat. Since I had no other human to rely on -- with the exception of my "taxi buddy", Dan -- I had to rely on myself more. I got used to this pattern.

Then Della was back for 1 1/2 days and my new routine seemed a bit out of whack. She will head back to White Salmon in a few hours and so my new routine will get back to what it was...until she returns in 2 weeks for a three day weekend.

While I long for the day (July 16) when Della again will be part of the usual routine, her infrequent (albeit brief) comings and goings both are refreshing and challenging. For someone who craves a set routine, my routine keeps changing.

But that's life, isn't it?

Italics, Bold and Other Devices

Trey Smith

You know, one of the things that can be difficult to convey through a strictly written medium is satire. While the writer can utilize italics, bold, underlines, "quotation marks" and throw in an emoticon, where available, the reader still must guess what he or she thinks the writer is trying to get across. As this is an imperfect art, writers and readers often misinterpret each other.

For most people, voice inflection and nonverbal actions provide key clues as to whether or not the speaker is being tongue-in-cheek. I say "most people" because these clues do not exist for people like me. I frequently cannot discern voice inflections and nonverbal clues are about as helpful as someone speaking in a foreign language that do not comprehend. I can't tell you the number of times in which everyone else in the room understands that the speaker is playfully teasing and I think the person is being dead serious. Of course, it's often the other way around. I think the person is speaking tongue-in-cheek when, in fact, he/she is being as serious as serious can be.

So, it seems I have the worst of both worlds. I often misinterpret the intent of the written word just as often as I misinterpret the intent of the spoken word! Try as I might, when I make a guess, my guesses almost always are wrong.

I share this today as a reminder to those of you who must deal with or are in a relationship with someone who has Asperger's (high-functioning autism). It's not that we are aloof and not concerned with your feelings, it's more that a great deal of the "rules" of social communication and interaction are lost on us. We truly are trying to understand the intent of what you are telling us!

I Miss Her, But...

Trey Smith

When I was first diagnosed with Schizotypal Personality Disorder and Asperger's Syndrome, it answered a lot of my questions about the difficulties I had experienced mt whole life, particularly in trying to comprehend the social world. As I think is typical, my focus was on those negative differences between me and most people. I saw what comes natural to most folks and lamented that these same traits and characteristics do not come natural to me at all.

However, once I was able to wrap my head around these innate differences, I began to see that there are many positives as well. One of these positives is that, after a difficult transition period, I tend to adapt to whatever the new routine is. I certainly may not like the change and the potentiality of the change will cause me much anxiety, but once the change has occurred, I get on with it in fairly good order.

While there is no question that I miss my wife a lot, I am handling her absence and my lack of transportation better than I expected. In some ways, my usual routine hasn't really been altered THAT much. I don't go grocery shopping everyday and I have a lot more responsibilities around the house. Anything that needs to be accomplished must be undertaken by me because I can't seem to convince the dogs or the cat to help wash the dishes or fetch clothes out the dryer! ;-)

In this particular instance, being a natural introvert is very beneficial. Della and I talk several times by phone per day, but not interacting with others doesn't bother me. I think I'll be okay as long as I can avoid panic attacks (which often strike for no apparent reason). I'm still a tad bit nervous about how I might singularly handle a panic attack, but I won't know until one strikes.

Maybe after I encounter my first such attack, I'll pen a completely different post!

I Keep Deleting This Post

Trey Smith

Several days ago I penned a post. It was difficult to write -- actually, it was quite agonizing. When I was finished, I scheduled it to post the next day, but before it went live, I deleted it. I have written on the subject matter of that post several times since and yet I ended up deleting each one of them.

So, here I am again debating whether to post this or not.

Within two or three days of the shooting in Newtown, information started to come out that the shooter (Adam Lanza) had been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome and a personality disorder. As it so happens, I have Asperger's Syndrome and Schizotypal Personality Disorder (which may or may not be the same type of disorder as the shooter -- IF he even had a personality disorder at all).  

Noting these potential similarities, it freaked me out big time.  It led me to ask myself a haunting question: Could I someday be an Adam Lanza?

After much soul searching, I am convinced that the answer is a resounding NO!  

I am a pacifist.  I loathe guns and I certainly don't own any.  I have a big heart and, in this venue, I continuously exhibit a tremendous reservoir of compassion for others.  I don't always express it well or in ways that other people understand, but there is a lot of love and goodness in me.

But there IS another side.  I hear voices and see things that aren't there.  I sometimes get very depressed for reasons I don't understand.  Often, when the hallucinations are quite numerous, I have a tendency to shut myself away from others and brood.  When I brood, I more readily notice a dark hole inside that, to be quite candid, scares the hell out of me.

Because of my weird brain chemistry, my internal life has been an ongoing pitched battle.  On the one side are (for a lack of a better word) my demons.  On the other side is my heart.  The latter always wins out -- with two exceptions in my youth that I have shared in this space before -- and this should provide me with a high degree of confidence that it will continue to win out.

For the most part, it does!  And yet, because I'm a very anxious lad, I sometimes worry about how the aging process -- dementia, for example -- might impact this situation.  I also worry that one day I might progress to full-blown schizophrenia since individuals with my disorder have a greater propensity to do so than the average person.

One of the chief reasons I keep deleting posts of this nature is that I do not want to add to the hysteria of some that people with Asperger's or personality disorders are ticking time bombs that could go off at any moment and, therefore, should be rounded up and locked away or worse.  The overwhelming majority of folks who have one or the other pose no danger to society whatsoever.  I'm not talking about anyone else here; this about me and me alone.

I am a very sensitive person.  When terrible things happen in the outside world, it messes me up.  My OCD kicks into full gear and I can't seem to stop myself from reading and watching all the various news reports for hours on end.  The more I read and watch, the more discombobulated I become.  I sit for hours -- often in a darkened room -- trying to wrap my head around what has occurred.  I cry and cry.  At times, I'm inconsolable.

This is why -- despite the sometimes dark thoughts that bubble up from the dark hole -- I am convinced that I will never be an Adam Lanza.   My tender heart is far more powerful than the misfiring wires in my brain.

So Long, Hans

Trey Smith

According to an article from the Associated Press, Asperger's Syndrome or Disorder will be dropped from the 5th edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM-5) that is used by professionals to diagnosis mental disorders.  Instead of a separate entry, those with the syndrome will be rolled into the category "autism spectrum disorder."

Personally, I don't think it really matters all that much what professionals want to call this condition.  The more I have learned about what I live with, I'm not even sure I would call it a mental disorder at all.  It's more like a mental differentiation.  If the researchers who believe it is a neurologically-based difference are correct, then all it means is that some of us have atypical -- not negative or diseased -- brain wiring.

For me, the saddest part of this change is that Dr. Hans Asperger will soon be forgotten!  That's one of the grand benefits of having a medical condition named after you.  For generations after your death, your name lives on...but not for poor Hans!

Huainanzi - Entry 85

Trey Smith

Mariners who are lost and cannot tell which direction they are headed have only to look at the North Star to find out. Essential Nature is the North Star of human beings. If they have the means of seeing themselves, they will not miss the feelings of others. If they have no means of seeing themselves, they will be agitated and strive in confusion.
~ a passage from The Book of Leadership and Strategy by Thomas Cleary ~

In general, I think this passage is spot on.  However, I don't think the ancient Chinese Masters were familiar with Asperger's Syndrome or other forms of autism.  So, while this idea may apply to most people, it doesn't necessarily apply to us.

I see myself quite fine; it's other people I have trouble with!!

When I use the way I perceive the world as a judge as to what will cause others to feel warm and secure or angry and incensed,  it rarely turns out the way I expect.  I can't tell you the number of times I've tried to express sympathy and support, but it's received as anything but. 

And I can't tell you the number of times that I've created a tempest with someone or a group when that was not my intent by a mile.  Someone will take me aside and point to something I said or did and say, "Now do you understand?"  Most of the time, the answer is no.  For the life of me, I can't understand WHY what I said or did would upset anyone.

If someone said or did the same thing to me, it wouldn't upset me at all.

To read the introduction to this ongoing series, go here.

Knowing Me, Knowing You

Trey Smith

While I'm sure none of you lay awake at night asking yourself, "I wonder what Trey was like as teenager," IF you've ever wondered, there is a movie made in 1985 that will offer some clues. Vision Quest, starring Matthew Modine as Louden Swain, offers a close depiction of the way I was at age 18 and, to be honest, still am.

While the particulars of the main plot line -- Swain being a high school wrestler -- don't dovetail at all with my story, the subplot of learning the ways of the world from an older woman is right on target. More than that, the way Louden Swain comports himself reminds me of the way I comported myself as a young man.

In some ways, Swain appears to be very mature for his age. In other ways, however, he acts like a 12 year old! He talks about topics that no one else seems interested in. He makes jokes that no one else understands. And, when he is filled with emotion and desires to make serious statements, he says some bizarre things that cause many people simply to shake their heads.

That fits me to a T.

From the Outside Looking In

Trey Smith

If you are new to this blog, I wouldn't be surprised at all if you might wonder the following: Why is a blog on philosophical Taoism written by three white male westerners? I can't answer for Scott and Ta-Wan, but I can share a bit of my own journey.

Due to Asperger's Syndrome -- a high functioning form of autism -- I always have been an outsider. From as early as I can remember, my peers thought I was strange. This involved not only the way I interacted with the world writ large but how I perceived it as well. As I grew, I began to understand better that there indeed was a divide, but I'll be damned if I can explain it!

In my grammar school years, I felt like an outsider looking in. Much of what seemed to interest my contemporaries was of little interest to me. What interested me was not shared by my peers. So, I was never part of the popular and, in some cases, not even the unpopular cliques; I was in a group of one. Not surprisingly, I spent a lot of time alone.

As I grew into a teenager, I identified with underdogs since I was one myself. I think this is why I am more open to peoples and ideas that do not fall into the mainstream of American ideals. For example, even as a young lad -- much to my bigoted paternal grandfather's horror -- I tended to idolize black baseball players rather than white ones. My two greatest baseball heroes were Willie Mays and Ernie Banks.

When watching westerns on TV or at the movies, I rooted for the Indians! All throughout my life, I have been a student of American Indian history and culture. It just so happens that many of their spiritual beliefs are similar to that of philosophical Taoism. (I will feature two quotes from the Apache leader, Geronimo, in subsequent posts today.)

My outsider status probably explains why, in graduate school, I was open to the exploration of the writings of Karl Marx and Malcolm X. And it probably explains why I oppose capitalism today and side with the needs and hopes of the proletariat. 

So, when I spied a book on Taoism several years back -- a word I don't think I was even familiar with at the time --  I thought to myself, "Hmm.  Why not explore it!"  As I read and studied philosophical Taoism, it resonated deep within me.   Simply put, it made sense to me.

As I became more acquainted with the various themes and concepts of this belief framework, I decided to start this blog, if for no other reason than to expose other westerners to these very same themes and concepts.  And that's what I've been doing since 2005.

Cut Short

Trey Smith

As I shared with you on Thursday, my dad and step-mom came to South Bend for a visit. According to the schedule, they were supposed to leave early this afternoon. That's not what happened though. They left yesterday, a full day BEFORE they had planned to leave.

Why?

Because I'm no fun.

Though my dad and I talk on the phone every week, we don't see each other that often. Their visit this weekend was the first time we had seen each other in 2+ years. So, while my dad and step-mom understand my autistic characteristics in a clinical sense, it's a lot different when you get to see them up close and personal!

As I mentioned previously, when my dad visits, one of his favorite activities is going out to eat -- something I don't do very often. So, we went out to eat on Thursday night and, though I thought I made it through the meal fairly well, dad and Susan took notice that I was anything but comfortable. I suppose my being uncomfortable made them uncomfortable!

Needless to say, the four of us did not eat out again during their brief stay. Della went to breakfast with them on Friday morning, long before I even got out of bed. We went to Aberdeen later in the day for some shopping, but they dropped us off at our house and went to supper solo.

Before I knew it, they left before noon yesterday.

The whole situation left me feeling a bit chagrined. I really tried to be more social than I usually am, but it's obvious I didn't pull it off very well. I wish things had turned out differently, but I am who I am -- a loner who makes very brief social forays. Even when I attempt to muddle my way through more extended social situations -- including with my OWN family -- others can sense my uncomfortableness and this tends to make them feel less at ease as well.

For his part, my dad told me before they left that they were not judging me; they understand that I was trying my best. That said, they admitted that they didn't actually realize how severe my social avoidance has progressed. In addition, the fact that I keep very odd hours -- going to bed in the wee hours of the morning and not being functional until mid-afternoon -- is way out-of-step with the routine time frames of most people. It made it difficult to schedule limited social activities with me.

I don't blame them at all for their decision to leave a day early. At the same time, however, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it makes me sad.

Long Time No See

Trey Smith

Today my dad and step-mom will arrive in South Bend for a 2 1/2 day visit. Since my father will be 79 in 9 days, this may be the last time I ever see him. While I am looking forward to their visit, in another way, I sort of dread it.

My dread has nothing to do with anxiety over my father accepting me for who I am or being worried that he might criticize some decision I've made. It is much more mundane than that. Visits from ANYONE interrupt my daily routines and autistic me doesn't like my routines to be impinged upon.

Whenever dad comes for a visit, it means going out to breakfast, lunch and/or dinner. The man likes to eat! I'm not suggesting he's fat, he just enjoys eating in public places. I, of course, do not like to eat in public because I have some swallowing issues. My preference is to eat alone and most days I don't even eat my meals around my wife. So, this public eating situation creates a bit of a dilemma for me.

Do I simply grin and bear it? Do I order the smallest meal possible and save most of it to take home in a doggy bag? Do I eat before we go (a strategy I've employed before) and then make everyone else uncomfortable as I sit there watching them eat? Ah, decisions, decisions.

But it's more than just issues around meals. I spend most of my time each day puttering around the house by my lonesome. While such a happenstance might drive most people stir crazy, it's a pleasing norm for me. I often don't get dressed to go out or put my dentures in until late afternoon or early evening. But with family sitting in my living room, I will need to dress earlier and put my teeth in.

I will get through it, but I will feel out of sorts until they leave.

The New Normal

Trey Smith

That night, I discovered a card he’d left next to my bedside: “Throughout our life, we constantly redefine ‘normal.’ While we yearn for previous definitions of the word, building a new normal is what we must do. The next definition is more important than the last one. Rest assured, you and your body will find the new normal soon.”
~ from Why I Wouldn't Let My Husband Touch My Breasts by Kate Barasz ~

In all honesty, I only clicked on the link to this article due to the titillating title (bad pun), but what I found was a poignant story about a woman and her supportive husband. The note he left her -- after having both of her breasts removed -- is one that should speak to each of us, regardless of the circumstances we face.

It's an especially important message for an autistic person like me -- a person who doesn't deal with change well.

As my wife and I have decided that home ownership is not a sustainable path for us, I am beginning to come to grips with the fact that my normal will be changing in the coming year. I suspect that sometime within the next twelve months, we will say goodbye to this house -- a home I cherish -- to begin a new adventure in an abode far smaller than this one. This means I will have to give up my upstairs space -- 2 bedrooms and a large area between them. In its place, I will need to learn to be happy in much more cramped quarters.

To help me navigate these uncharted waters, I will try to remember a portion of the husband's note above: The next definition [of normal] is more important than the last one.

Dearth of Preparation

Trey Smith

The motto of the Boy Scouts is "Be Prepared." It's not a bad motto as it would behoove each of us to be better prepared for all the different variables that life can and will throw at us. The prepared person is the one who is far more apt to deal successfully with changing circumstances. The ill-prepared person is the one who gets thrown off their game due to the slightest variation of expectations.

In order to prepare ourselves for any act or endeavor, we must understand and recognize the basic parameters of the situation. As is often the case, we THINK we understand and recognize all of the key variables when, in fact, we don't, but as long as we understand and recognize a few of them we have a much better chance of successfully navigating through and around the circumstances we find.

As suggested in the previous post, there is one endeavor that none of us can really prepare for: our own death. In some situations, we certainly can get our affairs in order and say goodbye to our loved ones, but once the boat leaves port, we have no idea whatsoever where it is going OR if it goes anywhere at all.

What we lack is an inkling of the parameters of death. All we think we know is that death is not life, but we don't know if that means that death is the opposite of life, something sort of similar to life or something we simply cannot begin to fathom. With all the variables unknown, there is no realistic way to prepare for crossing the bar.

While I understand this notion rationally, it is difficult for me to deal with emotionally. Due to my autism, I work diligently in my routine existence to try to prepare myself for all sorts of scenarios and outcomes. As long as I have imagined or envisioned a response or outcome and then I encounter something similar, I tend to get through the situation okay. When I meet circumstances that I am not prepared for, I behave like a deer caught in the headlights. I just sort of freeze because I don't have the faintest notion of what to do.

What keeps me awake some nights is the understanding that we are incapable of preparing for the exact process of death. I have this fear that I will make the situation worse or somehow screw it up! Yes, that most likely is an irrational fear, but I possess it, nonetheless.

Like a lot of people -- maybe ALL people -- the very thought of my own death made me very squeamish when I was younger. Death itself no longer scares me that much, but I'm still terrified at the process of leaving life for death. The process frightens me because I don't know the parameters involved and I realize that I can't (or may never) know until after it has already occurred and, at that point, it's too damn late to make a difference.

An Innocent Man

Trey Smith

Over the years, I've created a certain rep for myself: I don't like babies. I'm not rude, crude or nasty about it. It's just that I work diligently to stay away of them. If anyone asks, I make it clear that I'm not much into "baby" anything.

Of course, since I'm writing this post, it probably won't surprise you to learn that I really don't dislike babies at all. My issue with babies is that I don't have much experience with them and so I often feel very uncomfortable around them.

I've never been a father, so there have been no babies in my house. I don't think I have ever had a friend who was raising an infant at the time I hung out with them. I'm not particularly close to any of my cousins, so I wasn't around when they were raising their children. My sole experience with infants and very young children was during my time as a social worker and, even during this phase of my life, said experience was VERY limited.

I offer this information as a backdrop to something that occurred the other day.

I was up visiting at my friend Paul's mini mart -- my one consistent social outlet. The youngest employee, Kayla, came into the store as a customer with her approximately one year old daughter. As Kayla collected a variety of soft drinks and chips, her little tyke was having trouble walking next to mom. Her daughter would take a few steps and then sort of waddled her butt to the floor.

After watching this sequence three or four times, I walked to the back of the store. As I approached, I think Kayla expected me to offer to carry her store items to the front, so that she could pick up her daughter. To Kayla's utter shock, the man who says he doesn't like babies picked up the baby! I then followed Kayla to the checkout area with baby in tow.

As we walked, the little girl babbled baby talk and -- even more surprising, I'm sure -- I reciprocated. By the time I handed the child back over to mommy, she was laughing, smiling and making cute baby noises. As Kayla and baby left to go pick up Kayla's boyfriend, she looked back at me smiling and shaking her head in disbelief.

The next day, when she was on duty at the store, she couldn't stop talking about how well I seemed to connect with her young daughter. I told her that, while I feel uncomfortable around infants and young children due to a lack of experience, children have gravitated towards me all throughout my life. It's something I have never understood.

Kayla's response caught me completely off guard. "I know what it is, Trey" she said. "There is a certain innocence about you and babies pick up on that." The other employee on duty (Dan) readily agreed with her assessment.

I got to tell you that there are a lot of words I can think of to describe myself and innocent isn't one of them!! And yet, this isn't the first time in my life someone has referred to me as having an innocent demeanor. In fact, this is a very common word others use to describe me.

I don't understand why. When I ask people -- as I certainly asked Kayla -- to describe what they mean, I'm told that they can't put it into words. There's just something about me that oozes innocence.

I suppose it has something to do with my autism. That's the only explanation that would seem to make sense. I mean, it would be one thing to be considered innocent by others IF they could explain to me what they mean by this term, but no one can seem to put it into words.

I still don't get it, but at least it's better than people viewing me as dangerous or something like that.

The Advantage To Being An Outsider

Trey Smith

If you have a disability or weakness, learn how to use it to your advantage. Also, do not misuse a strength or talent so that it becomes your undoing. The sage thus appears to have the benefit of unseen forces.
~ a Taoist Daily Quote from Lao Fzu ~

One of the hallmarks of Asperger's Syndrome is the feeling of being an outsider. In many respects, the social world is like a puzzle and, for whatever reason, we haven't been provided with all the pieces. This makes it quite difficult to put the puzzle together in such a way that it makes sense. When we look at the fractured picture, it still looks like some crazy puzzle!

Hold this thought in mind as I share a snippet of Glenn Greenwald's excellent column from Sunday.

One can object to some of its particulars, but Frank Bruni has a quite interesting and incisive New York Times column today about a new independent film called Compliance, which explores the human desire to follow and obey authority.

Based on real-life events that took place in 2004 at a McDonalds in Kentucky, the film dramatizes a prank telephone call in which a man posing as a police officer manipulates a supervisor to abuse an employee with increasing amounts of cruelty and sadism, ultimately culminating in sexual assault – all by insisting that the abuse is necessary to aid an official police investigation into petty crimes.

That particular episode was but one of a series of similar and almost always-successful hoaxes over the course of at least 10 years, in which restaurant employees were manipulated into obeying warped directives from this same man, pretending on the telephone to be a police officer.

Bruni correctly notes the prime issue raised by all of this: "How much can people be talked into and how readily will they defer to an authority figure of sufficient craft and cunning?" That question was answered 50 years ago by the infamous experiment conducted by psychologist Stanley Milgram, in which an authority figure in a lab coat instructed participants to deliver what they were told were increasingly severe electric shocks to someone in another room whom they could hear but not see. Even as the screams became louder and more agonizing, two-thirds of the participants were induced fully to comply by delivering the increased electric shocks.

Most disturbingly, even as many expressed concerns and doubts, they continued to obey until the screams stopped – presumably due to death (subsequent experiments replicated those results). As the University of California's Gregorio Billikopf put it, the Milgram experiment "illustrates people's reluctance to confront those who abuse power", as they "obey either out of fear or out of a desire to appear co-operative – even when acting against their own better judgment and desires".

Bruni ties all of this into our current political culture, noting one significant factor driving this authoritarian behavior: that trusting authority is easier and more convenient than treating it with skepticism.

You see, naturally being an outsider makes it far easier to be a skeptic. In situations where most people will try to appease authority, Aspies tend to follow the beat of their own drum. In other words, from what I've seen, most of us tend not to be followers, blind or otherwise.

Owing to the advice of Lao Fzu, I utilize this space on this blog to use my so-called disability to an advantage. Being a natural skeptic, it is far easier for me to discern others who manipulate and abuse authority. And, since I am autistic and I don't readily fit in with general society, I don't worry about trying to fit in.

Even though I am a leftist, I can just as easily criticize the actions of Democrats as I can of Republicans. In fact, I am more critical of the Democrats because they pretend to care about the needs of the masses. This is why I am so critical of Barack Obama: he pretends to be a populist when he is really a corporatist!

Real Life Tao - Thar She Flows

Trey Smith

One of the ever present concepts of Taoism is flow, the ability to go where life takes us. The Taoist sages warn that most of us spend a great deal of our lives swimming AGAINST the current (flow) and this causes us to be out-of-balance, tense, stressed and in pain. So, one of the "secrets" of the virtuous life is to learn how to swim with the current of events, relationships and circumstances.

In all honesty, while this imagery appeals to me on a rational and philosophic level, it doesn't always seem to work that way in my autistic brain. As an individual who doesn't deal with changes very well -- life IS about change -- it would appear that my real life doesn't dovetail at all with my philosophic leanings!

The other day, however, it dawned on me that the above assertion may not be as true as I used to think. Like many people with Asperger's, I tend to take things too literally. It dawned on me that, maybe, the way I have been interpreting the concept of flow is too rigid.

Like anything else, flow is not static. The rate of flow is different for every stream. For example, the flow rate of the mighty Mississippi River would inundate a small creek.

There is another thing to consider. The flow rate is different on the varying portions of any stream. Years ago I went tubing on the Buffalo River in Arkansas. My wife and I chose a portion of the river in which the current moved very slowly; it was an area that seemed almost as tranquil as a pond. Only a few miles to the east, there were a series of rapids that would not have been conducive at all for leisurely tubing!

And, of course, the rate of flow in any location can change with the season or due to other variables. A month or two after our tubing experience, we returned to the same stretch of the river and it no longer was so tranquil. The area had experienced a lot of rain in a short period of time and so the rate of flow had increased considerably. We ended up deciding it wouldn't be safe to go tubing that day.

What I've come to realize is that I have been judging flow through the eyes of a neurotypical person, not as an autistic person. What flows for me probably wouldn't flow for any of you. The current of my life tends to run down the middle of a very narrow stream, one that rarely bleeds out over its banks.

This post is part of a series. For an introduction, go here.