To tell or not to tell.
Last night I dreamt someone I was chatting to had offered me a job. He said he liked my attitude and my intelligence and knew I would be good at the job (I don’t know what that job was). Although it was someone invented by my dream, I was supposed to know him; it was someone from my past who I hadn’t spoken to for a few years. But the important thing to note is that based on past knowledge of me and a current conversation, he saw something that would be an asset to whatever this mystery workplace was.
What happened next was very close to how I react in real life: I panicked, I stumbled, I felt the answer was probably no thanks but didn’t know which part of me, my life and my personality I needed to extract in order to say no. The first thing I told him was that I have Asperger’s. It wasn’t the first thing I wanted to tell him but it was going to lead on to how and why I get exhausted easily and how and why the way I’ve arranged my life and what I do suits me better than being employed in any regular conventional way. The real truth is that I have work, and I am busy. I don’t currently have time to do anything else anyway. But me being me, I can’t separate out what’s needed and what’s not. To me everything is connected. Everything is significant, everything is important. Once I’ve heard myself say something I usually know then which bits I’d like to erase and which bits I’d like to leave in but my first reaction is to say everything that’s forcing itself to the front of my mind. (Well it’s that or nothing. Saying nothing is my other cool trick).
The person in my dream didn’t wait for me to finish my sentence though or for any other explanation. The word “Asperger’s” immediately had him physically backing away uncomfortably and nodding knowingly. I continued talking and explaining and yet he raised his hand as if to say no further explanation necessary. He feigned listening politely but I could tell he was gone. The offer was gone too. Someone who 30 seconds earlier had seen me as capable suddenly saw a liability.
Everything faded and I woke up.
Why did I tell him that?
Why do I tell people? Even in real life I tell people. It’s all over my blog, it’s on my twitter bio; when I first completed my autism assessment I wrote an open letter to the world. I wanted everyone to know. I guess I needed a “Well done, you. You’ve coped with so much.” I guess I also needed to self-obsess for a while. I’d spent a lifetime avoiding talking about myself because I couldn’t pin myself down. At the time it became the reason I had found life so hard.
But it’s not the only reason I find life hard and by no means does it make everything difficult or impossible. People told me it didn’t change me and it didn’t change who I am. It was an affectionate way of saying they knew me and still cared about me and wouldn’t look at me any differently. But it does change me and people do look at me differently and people do assume I have certain limits without even bothering to ask me.
Next time I get offered a dream job (<- autistic person doing humour), I’m going to be flattered and concentrate on the positives: someone’s noticed I have talent! (God only knows what it is!) But I’m also going to point out that I’m doing lots of things already and thanks but no thanks.
And by the way, man in my dream, I wouldn’t want to work for someone who sees autism as a liability anyway so I’d say I had a lucky escape.