What Learning I’m Neuro Divergent at Age 52 Feels Like
They Used to Call it “Asperger’s Syndrome”. Here’s How it Feels to Learn as an Adult That I’m “On the Spectrum”.
Across the table from me sat a half dozen top executives from the (at that time) largest corporation in the world (Big Company). Their combined salaries were in excess of $10 million. On the other side of the table sat little ole me, all by myself, in the hot seat.
The company I worked for (My Company) had contracted with Big Company to create a custom point of sale software package. It was a $5 million dollar contract. Unfortunately, when the contract was negotiated, we didn’t realize certain dynamics that existed with Big Company’s franchisees that ended up making the project a far bigger scope than even $5 million could cover.
And since the project scope had ballooned by orders of magnitude, the project was behind schedule and over budget.
I was the Director for the dev team building the project. So I was the one in the hot seat, to face Big Company’s executives.
They asked hard, pointed, even brutal question. I was prepared and calm, and answered simply and directly. By the time our session was done, Big Company’s executives had a better understanding of the whole set of issues and challenges.
They agreed that the majority of challenges were things that they had to handle internally. We agreed on some things that My Company would do to adapt. And, we left the meeting on pretty good terms.
Later that evening was a social cocktail party meet-and-greet.
The thought of attending and socializing terrified me.
Just Give Me My Lines
It’s always been ironic to me that things like the face-off with the corporate executives (which would frighten most people) aren’t such a big deal for me, while things like a casual social gathering terrify me.
Of course, over the years I’ve built coping strategies and have been capable of dealing with both. But the social events that most people find fun and relaxing are the types of thing that I’d flee from in terror if I weren’t expected to be there. It really doesn’t matter if it’s a small social event, like my wife and I getting together with another couple, or a bigger cocktail party type event.
I’ve come to realize one key difference. Social gatherings are entirely ad hoc, and don’t have a script.
The concept of having a script vs. ad hoc improvisation has filtered into many areas of my life. Even my wife, D, has learned this, and if she wants a particular feedback from me she’ll say, “I’m giving you your lines…” And I happily use those lines to give her the feedback she wants. It’s a bit of a joke between us, but has been a key to our 30+ years of marriage.
Most of what I did in software engineering management had a script. Often that script was in the form of a “meeting agenda”, but having those scripts allowed me to cope in situations that, if they were unstructured, would be extremely uncomfortable.
But I always knew that there was something about me that was different from everyone else.
I was shy in one-on-one interactions, but could speak in front of a large group pretty easily.
As a sax player, I seldom got stage fright, even when performing at Carnegie Hall in New York City, at the Flag Raising Ceremony in Washington D.C. on the Fourth of July, and in many notable venues in Europe. Rather than getting the nausea or shakes that many in my group had, I thought it was cool, and ran around taking pictures.
I always had one (and one only) close friend at a time, even though I had many situational acquaintances.
I remember when I was young, my parents were continually reminding me that, when I talk to people I should actually look at them. “Look them in the eye,” they said. And that’s a habit that I still have to work on today.
I knew that I had emotions, but I sometimes got the feeling that the way I felt those emotions was different from other people.
People Like Me
Eventually, I came to the conclusion that doing the type of work I was doing at My Company was killing me slowly. I left the company, D and I downsized from our 5500 sq. ft. house into a 37 foot fifth-wheel trailer, and we became digital nomads and full-time RV’ers.
It was awesome, because I was able to explore a number of different ways of earning my income, rather than being stuck in a pre-defined role. And together we were able to explore many areas of the United States. Oh, and see our kids and grandkids who had moved all across the continent.
In our travels and sight-seeing, we’d meet and bump into people who D would chat and socialize with. She’s, of course, the more social butterfly of the two of us. And in her chats with them, I started to realize that, every once in a while, we’d be chatting with someone like me (although it was usually D chatting with their parter, mostly).
And, I started learning about people who had been diagnosed in their 30s, 40s, and 50s as being “on the spectrum” or “neuro divergent”, but hadn’t realized it for their entire lives.
Understanding Myself
Eventually I heard this enough and got curious enough. I was browsing online and happened across an online pre-screening evaluation. I spent 30 minutes and completed it.
The results were pretty resounding. “You have a 90% chance of being diagnosed as on the spectrum.” It seems that my own personality is pretty darn close to what used to be called “Aspberger’s Syndrome”. I was most likely neuro divergent, rather than neuro typical.
My feelings about reading this were pretty interesting.
Mostly, I was deeply relieved. I’m not strange or weird. I’m just divergent. And, as readers of Veronica Roth’s books will know, being divergent is cool. (Ha ha!)
In all seriousness, though, as I learned more, I understood myself better. Many simple things about me that had just seemed odd suddenly had explanations. I started to see curious patterns through my entire life that finally started to make sense.
Take food for instance. Many neuro divergent people have problems with sensations. The consistency of food is one of those things that can drive us ND’s a bit batty.
In many cases, I can absolutely love the taste of a food, but I can’t eat it in a certain state because of the consistency. Raspberries are a good example. I love a seedless raspberry jelly. But if even one seed turns up, I’m done. Peas straight from the pod are awesome, but once you cook them, you ruin them. The list goes on and on.
As full disclosure, I realize that the online prescreening that I took is not a true diagnosis.
So, what’s next?
Well, I’m now 53 years old. There’s probably not anything I’d do differently in my life, even if I did get a formal diagnosis. So I probably won’t go to the trouble.
But coming to a better understanding of myself, even at this level, is priceless.
Did This Help You? If so, it would be awesome if you hit the Follow and Subscribe buttons below, so you get an update when I publish my next story.
See also:
If you enjoy my content here on Medium, it’s only the beginning of what’s available. I am a paying Medium member and I highly recommend joining. If you decide to join, a portion of your membership fee will be sent my way and therefore will directly support my work.
