What is it like to have an autism spectrum disorder?
I don't experience catharsis. Even recreation is a matter of intense focus. I focus and then the focus is gone and I'm done until I focus on something else. It all lasts like a burning match. I don't experience things for very long. Feelings appear before me and are gone. There is sadness in my life, but it's like music from across the street. Sometimes I definitely hear it. Sometimes I'm not sure if I hear it. And sometimes I don't hear it at all. Whatever the case, it's always distant and doesn't distract me for long. Even huge and immediate sadness. I move between experiences like a robot being controlled remotely. I feel things and then I don't feel them. I forget. Catharsis seems pointless.
I enjoy things. I'm happy and I'm sad. But nothing capsizes me. Good things, bad things, and things that are neutral are all the same in that they occur and then they stop occurring. Valence is projected, imposed upon experiences. I can't be fully immersed no matter what I do. Something stops me. The images keep changing, and I'm too busy wondering what the next one is going to be.
Life is looking at images. See a picture, have a reaction, then go home. I don't live in the reaction. I don't live anywhere. I'm not trapped in the images or in my experience of seeing them because they aren't anything. There is a vantage point from which even the worst things are just little lights. There they are, dancing. That's all they do. There's nothing else. There is a vantage point from which nothing that happens anywhere seems to be happening at all.
I'm not surprised that things happen. I'm not surprised that I react. Feelings aren't new. They're part of the only experience we can have. Every person only gets one experience for their entire lives: the human experience. You want, you try, you grieve, you celebrate, and you worry. That's it forever. I'm part of it, but I'm not wowed. I'm not having a beautiful and unique experience. I'm having the same one every H. sapiens has had since our advent 100,000 years ago. I expect things to happen. I expect to react, and that I should move from my reaction to the only place there is to go: to the next occurrence and the next reaction. Should I be moved by all this? Is the human experience miraculous simply because it occurs? Is it more reasonable to expect it not to occur? It's monotonous, and I sometimes feel bitter that we don't get anything more in our lives than to move from feeling to feeling within a limited range.
This is high-functioning autism: I am like a machine. Machines don't need catharsis. Machines do the only things they can do until they stop. There's no philosophy here. I want to make it clear that I'm not talking about my opinion. I'm describing myself in essence - in the only way I can be. This is what it's like to be me, and I hope that's understood here. I didn't emerge from contemplation and resolve to be dispassionate. This is just the way I am. When I look into myself, I just see a person. It's not good or bad. It is - it all is. There is nothing that isn't.
So I don't escape. There's nowhere to go. Even numbness is something to consider. I'm not waiting for anything. I'm just having experiences and then not having them. I do make value judgements but then I don't care about the value judgments or I forget them and the experiences they judge.
OK here is the end:
I don't experience catharsis because I have a malformed inner life and because all my emotions are ephemeral.
I don't experience catharsis. Even recreation is a matter of intense focus. I focus and then the focus is gone and I'm done until I focus on something else. It all lasts like a burning match. I don't experience things for very long. Feelings appear before me and are gone. There is sadness in my life, but it's like music from across the street. Sometimes I definitely hear it. Sometimes I'm not sure if I hear it. And sometimes I don't hear it at all. Whatever the case, it's always distant and doesn't distract me for long. Even huge and immediate sadness. I move between experiences like a robot being controlled remotely. I feel things and then I don't feel them. I forget. Catharsis seems pointless.
I enjoy things. I'm happy and I'm sad. But nothing capsizes me. Good things, bad things, and things that are neutral are all the same in that they occur and then they stop occurring. Valence is projected, imposed upon experiences. I can't be fully immersed no matter what I do. Something stops me. The images keep changing, and I'm too busy wondering what the next one is going to be.
Life is looking at images. See a picture, have a reaction, then go home. I don't live in the reaction. I don't live anywhere. I'm not trapped in the images or in my experience of seeing them because they aren't anything. There is a vantage point from which even the worst things are just little lights. There they are, dancing. That's all they do. There's nothing else. There is a vantage point from which nothing that happens anywhere seems to be happening at all.
I'm not surprised that things happen. I'm not surprised that I react. Feelings aren't new. They're part of the only experience we can have. Every person only gets one experience for their entire lives: the human experience. You want, you try, you grieve, you celebrate, and you worry. That's it forever. I'm part of it, but I'm not wowed. I'm not having a beautiful and unique experience. I'm having the same one every H. sapiens has had since our advent 100,000 years ago. I expect things to happen. I expect to react, and that I should move from my reaction to the only place there is to go: to the next occurrence and the next reaction. Should I be moved by all this? Is the human experience miraculous simply because it occurs? Is it more reasonable to expect it not to occur? It's monotonous, and I sometimes feel bitter that we don't get anything more in our lives than to move from feeling to feeling within a limited range.
This is high-functioning autism: I am like a machine. Machines don't need catharsis. Machines do the only things they can do until they stop. There's no philosophy here. I want to make it clear that I'm not talking about my opinion. I'm describing myself in essence - in the only way I can be. This is what it's like to be me, and I hope that's understood here. I didn't emerge from contemplation and resolve to be dispassionate. This is just the way I am. When I look into myself, I just see a person. It's not good or bad. It is - it all is. There is nothing that isn't.
So I don't escape. There's nowhere to go. Even numbness is something to consider. I'm not waiting for anything. I'm just having experiences and then not having them. I do make value judgements but then I don't care about the value judgments or I forget them and the experiences they judge.
OK here is the end:
I don't experience catharsis because I have a malformed inner life and because all my emotions are ephemeral.
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