Recognising Asperger

I could never work out how is it that I was sensitive enough to my son's needs. How natural it was for me to respond the exactly rtight way to his ASD needs, before we even know he was an Aspie. A right word to say or a soothing gesture, a hug, acknowledging and accepting his sadness or frustrations, cuddling him gently, stroking his sobbing, angry soul when things get too much and overloaded.

It surprises me to know, all the things that I've been doing was actually helping him with his ASD. All of these things that I naturally did, was the things that I would have to learn upon diagnosis of his ASD, according to the doctor. But somehow, I've already had a good headstart by already practicing half of it, many years earlier.

I always wondered why is it that my husband finds understanding and accomodating our child such a alien thing to practice. What was it that I could see, that he can't?
It was obvious that son is always prone to knee his dad, but yet hubby never quite learn to expect that or learn to avoid it.

Again and again, I asked, why is it so difficult for hubby to try to understand what was son saying? Is not like son was speaking a foreign language, but somehow, it does seems like hubby and son is on a totally different wavelenght.

Well, it turns out hubby is also an Aspie. But yet, it is possible for Aspie alike to be on a different wavelenght?

Well, it seems like it. I'm also beginning to recognised and now accept that I am partly responsible for son's ASD condition. All this while, I was reading on ASD's characteristics, all those hands flapping, sensitivities, social difficulties and all, little did I know that I was exhibit this characteristics more than my son!

I do flap my hands when I get excited. But I always thought I'm just a very animated talker!

I do pace the floor when talking in excitement. Well, I just didn't realised it.

This also explains why I don't have many friends, maybe one or two, if they are even classified as friends, for they always seems to fall out of touch sooner or later! And why I find making friends such a difficult thing to do. Plus also maybe this could explained why during my early days, all my friends were mostly guys. Maybe because it was easier to understand the more practical and direct mannerism of the male behaviour.

While researching for more clues on sensitivities for my son, I forgot I have issues with smells and bright light too.

And how I hate to be rushed. And how I hate changing my routine or having last minute changes to any schedule. It drives me up the wall because it totally throws me off my track, I become momentary lost, and will need time to re-gather my perspective before re-gaining my focus.

Perhaps this also explains my deep interest in science and history, like Pyramids and Maths. But the strange thing was, I was really, really bad in Maths during school. I flunked my Maths throughout my school days, but I never did hate Maths. I just knew, and accepted that I was very bad at it. But somehow, the idea of chemistry and physic intrigued me. I was fascinated by how it is to be possible to predict results, simply by manipulating numbers. I loved datas. It's amazing how a bunch of numbers can show you a pattern of consumerism and behaviours. I wanted to do chemistry and physics. But of course, according to the good old school system, I couldn't possibly handle physic lessons for my Maths' comprehension is so bad.

Well, I'm doing Maths now with my son, and I'm enjoying every lessons because I can see clearly now, where it all went wrong for me. I just didn't understand what the teacher was trying to teach. Bearing this in mind, remembering how confused I was, not understanding what the question was about, and how even more confused and lost I became, as I meandered into the maze of maths, I now understand how to help my son with his confusion of maths. I know understand how to re-word questions, or sometimes, it's better to just wait a little bit longer for the level of consciousness to click in, before comprehension can take place.

I also know understood why I was always alone during my childhood. I clearly remember walking round my old school which used to be an old convent building. In fact it was called The Holy Infant Jesus Convent School, used to be run by nuns during the 19th century. I could remember exploring every corner of this great old building. And I loved it. I have my favourite corners to hide in, one of it was at the old chapel on the first floor. I remember it to be this great big hall with polished dark mahogany timber floors, and great big white wooden french doors, with it's wooden slat shutters. Light filtering in thru the brushes of pines needles of the tall fir tress that lined the entire lenght of the chapel. I would stick my legs and my face thru the balustrades, a feeling of being high up and hidden, spying away at everyone on the playing field below. Sometimes it'll just be the students playing tag, sometimes it'll be teachers walking by, and a couple of time, Ms Muthu, the big and fearsome Indian headmistress, striding heavily along with her dreaded cane beside her. Oh yes, she'll not think twice about caning anyone caught misbehaving. I felt protected, hidden away in this cool and quiet sanctuary, away from the afternoon heat, and the hustle and bustle of everybody's expectations.

At the far end of the chapel will be the lonely body of Jesus on the crucifix, suspended high above the altar with it's embroided covering, candles flickering. I always thought what a contrast it is, him hiding here in the cool dark tranquility of the chapel, compare to his mom, The Holy Mother of Mary, standing high up in full glory, right at the front of the building, and the top most point too. Every day, the sun will shine bright and full on her, which she reflects back down to us common mortals, with her arms spread out in a welcoming manner, her smile serene and gentle.
I always thought how beautifully smooth and white her face was, and I especially liked that blue that she was wearing - it was powder blue, till this day, still one of my favourite colour.

Yes, those were the days I now recognised to be traits of Aspergers. The thing was, I wasn't feeling lonely. I didn't feel I was missing out on anything. I was just happy and contented to be wandering around this great old building, recognising each and every corner of it's structure. Every curve, every corner, every column, every archway, every room, every courtyard, and most of all, each any every one of those the old wooden french doors, with it's peeling paint and it' rakety shutters, like sleepy eyes, too heavy to be keep opened.

Yes, I'm convinced that my son is very similar to me; that he's happy with his own company too most of the time, keeping himself occupied with his own interest - his RPG games.