conventional

One of the more defining elements of autism is a disregard for conventional values and norms. At its root, this is not ideological, although ideological nonconformity often develops as a consequence. When this inability to connect with others is severe enough, autistic children have trouble even learning to speak. This is because they aren't mirroring caregivers. They don't learn the basics the way others instinctively learn. 

Even for the most brilliant of us, this can be a profound learning disability. It creates a cascade of consequences as the autistic individual progresses through life, learning how to cope, learning how to act normal, but never actually being normal, and coping never becomes easy. Neurotypical behaviors are called mainstream precisely because that's where the flow is the strongest and most common. It's not a choice to be outside the mainstream, so much as the absence of learned behavior that typically draws people into going with the flow.

Autism is a spectrum, not because it varies in severity, but because without conformist instincts to guide us, we learn to get by in our own ways. Every individual's life experiences are different. These experiences then guide development in a wide range of different ways. We don't follow any sort of standard autistic path, but are forced to forge our own paths, and we go in all different directions.

This often makes it very difficult to relate to others and form healthy relationships. Even other autistic people can be so different from one another as to make connection feel impossible between them, never mind connection with neurotypicals. When people don't share similar values, and have lived our whole lives accordingly, it can result in a devaluation that goes both ways.

A basic example might be materialism. This is simplistic and people are more complicated, but to illustrate the point, someone who doesn't value wealth or owning stuff will probably go through life with very little. Work is not only more difficult for such an individual, but their incentive to work is also greatly diminished. The importance they place on this basic measure of social value might not only be diminished, but negative- it's not something we're going to value in others, either.

Another example might be vanity. This one applies less to myself, but I know it's also common. A person who is indifferent to appearances will not put effort into their own appearance, nor value anyone else's. They might go through life being judged for how they look while judging others for caring about something perceived to be meaningless.

Autism is strongly correlated with social deficits, such as difficulty making small talk and other related conventions. So, even our personalities can be seen as lacking, while we might find those same social behaviors to be irritating, and worse than worthless. We may try to mask these differences, because this whole dynamic can make life so alienating and difficult, while on a deeper level, hating the prospect of being more like everyone else.

When such differences are framed as disability, that is a devaluation. This is why there's often controversy around framing autism as a disability. We do not bring to the table what others are looking for, and that they place importance on things we deem worthless can make them seem like idiots. We go through our lives struggling to find our way in a society clearly built by idiots. If we fail to connect with others who share our values, it can be a very lonely journey.

reeling

I'm not feeling super optimistic about the trajectory this recovery is taking. I was not at all aware of just how much of my psyche was being held together by this. I could always see everything that's wrong with it, and yet, feel I made the best possible choices given the reality I'm dealing with. I'm desperately trying to figure out how to make my life work; how to make my brain work.

What was the alternative, to be less ambitious, to lose interest in training all together and go back to doing nothing? Motivating myself has not been easy. I've had to develop so many strategies and hacks to overcome a rather profound deficit in my ability to do much of anything. Nothing is more motivating to me than an attractive woman.

The whole reason I left my apartment eight years ago was to embark on this quest for human connection, and this is how it plays out.

reciprocation

I used to hate people for not liking me. In driving myself to go out into the world to be around people all the time, I decided this was wrong. I look at myself from their perspective, taking all the reasons for their perspective into account. I understand, and can't hate them, because how they feel only makes sense, given their own lived experience, what they've been exposed to, and what they're entirely reasonable for caring about.

We're not supposed to like people who don't reciprocate. That isn't connection. It's a normative and natural defense of our egos to reciprocate negativity. If we don't do that, if we like people who think very little of us, we can start thinking very little of ourselves. Especially if we like them way too much. This is what I've been struggling with for the last eight years.

Why can't I be someone better appreciated by my peers? That most of my peers are half my age really compounds this problem, although I don't relate to people my own age any better. I don't know of any good ways to meet people my own age, so I don't know how much of a difference that would have made.

In order to become a more functional successful person, I allowed myself to lean into fantasy. I knew it was irrational, delusional even, but I let it carry me. I let myself be motivated by it. I let myself believe on a level I tried not to think too much about, that if I trained hard enough, I could become worthy. I could defy both aging and neurodivergence to find my way to a place in life where I might stand a chance of winning over a heart like hers.

Deep grooves form in the monotropic mind, as I allowed this fantasy to dominate my thinking for years. This winter has been really difficult. I wasn't consciously aware of why. The news itself was merely the confirmation of what I've feared since November. Something has been missing at the gym. Training hasn't been rewarding. I've been pushing myself to keep going, only to go home feeling sad, after every class. Now I know why and these painful thoughts flood the old obsessive grooves that riddle my mind.

I have nothing but the same old loneliness laid bare again, the protective layers of fantasy stripped away. I hate myself for being this way. I hate the world for making me like this. I hate everyone else for not understanding any of it.