-
Mar7
AS and Loneliness
15 CommentsEvery now and then, my husband goes down to New York City for a few days to visit his father. I used to go with him, but being in the city became too disorienting and exhausting. I crave the familiarity of my home and my daily tasks, so I’ve stopped going on these trips. My husband tends to travel when my daughter is with her father for the week, so I am on my own for a few days.
Whenever my husband goes away, I get very anxious. For years, I used to melt into tears every time, like I’d never see him again. I’ve always had a lot of separation anxiety, throughout my life. Any kind of leave taking brings it up. When I was about 12 years old, I went on a weekend retreat and was homesick the entire time—which was especially odd, because home was not a great place. About twenty years ago, I moved across the hall at work from one office to another, and I got all choked up when I was taking my pictures off the wall. The fact that they would soon be on another wall about 50 feet away didn’t seem to matter. Any kind of change like that makes me sad.
Although I no longer get teary when my husband goes away for these visits, my ability to self-modulate pretty much goes out the window. At first, I think about how nice it will be to have some time alone after work. So I go to work and have my afternoon, and then I come home to an empty house. I’m so used to my husband being there that a chill comes over me when he’s not. The minute I close the door behind me, it’s as though I’m the only human being left in the world. It’s such a lonely feeling. I barely know what to do. I’ll eat something, check my email, maybe watch TV, but I’m on edge. I get more and more tense and wired, and I can’t fall asleep till the early morning hours.
The problem seems to be that I don’t carry anyone around with me in my mind. I don’t think that tomorrow, I’ll see a friend and tell her about the knitting I’m doing. I don’t look forward to what I’ll do, who I’ll see, what I’ll say, or what kind of experiences I might have. In my mind’s eye, I don’t see myself “spontaneously sharing” anything with anyone. I feel very cut off from the world.
When my husband is here, I feel so normal. He is the first person I’ve ever felt truly at home with. It’s as though I’d been in exile all my life, and when I met him, I finally came home—to everything. So when he goes, I feel like I’m in exile again.
I don’t like how vulnerable I feel. I don’t like needing anyone this much, and I don’t like knowing that someday, one of us will be gone and the other will be left alone. I feel so connected to him in a world that feels so strange to me.
I realize that loss comes to everyone. I wonder, though, whether we Aspies feel the possibility of loss more intensely than other people because a) we don’t like going out into the world to socialize and b) we feel like such oddballs most of the time anyway.
For me, being left alone for a short time resonates with the possibility of being utterly alone, always. And then, when my husband comes home, I can’t possibly imagine life being any other way.
Do others feel as I do?
© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg
15 Responses to “AS and Loneliness”
-
Yes, I have felt this way. It has been even more extreme — getting anxious and melting down because he wanted to go surfing on a Saturday afternoon. And the summer that Hubby was gone for two months was one of the most anxious times of my life. But after 13 years of marriage and some conscious effort to let Hubby have his space, this is gradually improving.
-
John Dale Lyons March 7th, 2009 at 11:34 pm
Having pets helps. Putting the TV or radio on, as background noise, helps. I live alone, and it’s okay most of the time. My fear of abandonment comes in the context of relationships themselves, such as during an argument. It doesn’t seem to be triggered for me when I am merely home alone. But we’re all different.
-
That is so beautiful beyond belief. So that’s what a relationship is supposed to be like.
-
Funny, at 56, I relish the times I get alone. I live with my daughter and grandkids and when they have a “girls night out” at a friends, I just love the solitude. I dream sometimes of what it would be like to live alone (I’ve never done it). I’d like to try it out, just to see if I’d like it.
-
I’m the exact opposite. Even though my life with my husband had a stability that I didn’t even know I needed, there were times when his presence in the house drove me crazy unless I could get far enough away not to hear anything from his study. I’ve always had a hard time living with people around me, but just thought that I was being selfish in needing time and space alone. I guess that’s one of the many things that learning about Asperger’ has helped me with .
-
Thank you all so much for responding. It’s so interesting how different we all are on this question. Your comments have gotten me thinking that I need to approach this whole issue differently. Instead of feeling isolated because I don’t do the spontaneous sharing thing well (even in my thoughts), I need to find another way to look forward to connecting with the outside world.
Today, I’ve been thinking about the concept of mitzvah, a Hebrew word for “good deed” or “sacred deed,” something that you do on behalf of someone else. If I can make more mitzvah opportunities in my life, they would be something to look forward to that would be very fulfilling. I don’t do the spontaneous sharing well because I’m never sure whether someone will be interested in what I’m interested in, and because the all-time *worst* thing for me, in the social world, is a blank stare. But I really enjoy doing things for other people, so long as I don’t wear myself thin.
Anyway, much to think about. Thanks again!
-
in my adult life, my partner is the only person i’ve ever lived with that was relatively easy’ for me. after three years, we’ve never spent a night apart.
i had various roommates in my 20′s, but it was disastrous. for the most part, i’ve lived alone and very happy about it.
we moved around a lot when i was little, so i think i got used to change.
it wasn’t until my 30′s that i found myself distressed sometimes when away from home, but i think it’s just homesickness for my tea cup, my own bed and my books
Ben
-
“The problem seems to be that I don’t carry anyone around with me in my mind…In my mind’s eye, I don’t see myself “spontaneously sharing” anything with anyone. I feel very cut off from the world.”
Rachel, you have just described my daughter. Only she can’t put this into words. I will think of what you’ve written any time she gets anxious and try to put myself in her shoes instead of being frustrated by her.
And I love your mitzvah idea. I’ve always thought of mitzvah as rungs of a ladder reaching to heaven – every time a good deed is done, the ladder to heaven gets higher (or the closer heaven gets to earth? I can’t remember). It’s nice to have a different view and to think of them as more than the means to an end…they are about making connections – something you do for someone else and for yourself – edifying for both parties. It’s fun to read your blog…it always gives me something to think about.
-
Hi Erin,
Being an Aspie is such an exercise in paradoxes. The desire for connection is often there (thus, the loneliness), but we can shy away from connection–partly because of the sensory overload, partly because we connect differently than your average person, and partly because we often feel so “other” in the world.
In this context, it’s interesting what you say about a mitzvah being about making connections. A long while ago, a friend of mine told me that the word mitzvah comes from the same root as “tzava,” the word for an interconnected web in which the well-being of the whole is dependent upon the well-being of each part. So a mitzvah, in its deepest sense, is an act that connects us to the web of all life and to all creation.
Amazing stuff. The ancients had a lot to say about how to connect with other beings in a world that can be very difficult.
-
Hi Rachel,
Now *that* is fascinating. I will need to chew on that for awhile. I like it.
erin -
Know exactly what you mean. I lived alone for a while, as my alone time is very important to me and I thought therefore that living on my own would be bliss – and actually, I really really hated it. I felt lost most of the time, and actually started having panic attacks. It was great to have everything exactly where and how I wanted it, but I just felt so incredibly vulnerable – and very very lonely.
Now, my partner and I spend a lot of time doing our own thing, but it’s just nice to know that the other one is THERE if we need them. I struggle when my partner isn’t about too, but I try not to worry too much about being needy – after all, if humans were designed to be solitary creatures, we would never pair up at all. It is right and natural to need others around you sometimes, so don’t beat yourself up about it
-
Wow, Mrs. Spock, you’ve described my history and my experience so accurately in describing yours. Just amazing. Thank you!
-
thx for sharing so honestly… i m an artist, musician and writer… i live alone… and i love it… but i feel the same aspie loneliness that we all share, no matter what our different inclinations are… i cannot live with anyone else, but i long for someone to be nearby for the times when i wish to share… ironic dichotomy and almost impossible to achieve… but my heart warms for those of u who hv found some measure of fulfillment in ur relationships… i think the sense of being different will always be there, but every little ray of sunshine makes a huge difference ! cheers !
-
Hi spunkykitty, and welcome!
-
Very much understand the modes one switches into: of being able to pay attention to “other people” vs. “just oneself” mentality-based on routine, knowing what to expect (in terms of what/who one will have to deal with-or not).
I had that dynamic when I had a constant partner, and to a lesser degree I retain that sort of operational method even now (without a “significant other”). It takes me a while to “settle in” to whichever attentional mode, whether outward or inward-and it can take hours before one’s “in the groove (or “flow”)” of each mindset. Transitions remain quite difficult, no matter how many times one encounters them.
Also realize that once one’s comfortable with a particular person, then the divide can become between being “by oneself or with just this exact person” vs. “being around anyone else”, because one’s not used to or familiar with all those other people.
It’s a bit like hibernation (in animals) or “sleep” (energy conservation) mode on computer, in that there are different demands made upon the person or machine, and one habituates to that phase-until circumstances require one to return to previous functionality.
A superficial example, but easier to provide illustration/explanation of than intangible, mental characteristics/manifestations:
For instance, if I know I’ll be alone (not going out)-then I can wear the most comfortable clothing, and how it looks is irrelevant. If I’m anticipating being seen and/or having company, then I have to figure out a pretty outfit (not so pleasant to wear) in which I feel okay-looking.It’s about pacing, too-figuring out how to structure one’s day & week, based on when which presences (and/or absences) will be part of one’s environment. Such as when to do which chores/housework, when one needs to be available to spend time with one’s companion, planning for mutual activities-as well as setting aside time for solitary pursuits/projects.
And yes, I often get stuck in panic-filled mentality of “there’s no light at the end of this tunnel”, feeling either hopelessly trapped around strangers (people with whom I’m uncomfortable), or hopelessly trapped in lonesome solitude-with no sign of relief/respite. When I’m alone, I’m “ALL” alone (for good & for ill).
Leave a Reply
About Me
I'm Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg, and I publish this blog, Journeys with Autism. I'm a wife, mother, writer, singer, artist, photographer, community volunteer, and the chapter leader for the Vermont Chapter of the Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN).
At the age of 50, I awoke to my place on the autism spectrum and discovered a world of gifts, struggles, and life-changing possibilities. My latest book, The Uncharted Path: My Journey with Late-Diagnosed Autism, was published in July of 2010. My work has also appeared in Shift Journal of Alternatives: Neurodiversity and Social Change and in the Disability Rights and Neurodiversity section of the ASAN website.
My Memoir
"The Uncharted Path is an autism autobiography unlike any I’ve ever read.....I’d recommend The Uncharted Path to anyone on the spectrum, to anyone who has friends or relatives on the spectrum, and to anyone who cares for people on the spectrum. Her book is written straight from the heart.” —Gavin Bollard, author of Life with Asperger’s
“Cohen-Rottenberg is emotionally honest and skilled at relaying the stories from her childhood and adulthood that made her the person she is today....A highly recommended read."—Kate Goldfield, author of Common Scents: Adventures with Autism and Chemical Sensitivity
“What Rachel has written, few others would be able to....An enlightening journey."—Jon Gilbert, author of Same Child, Different Day
My memoir The Uncharted Path: My Journey with Late-Diagnosed Autism is now available in paperback for $17.95 and in PDF format for $8.95.
To purchase the book, please contact me by email. I accept payment via PayPal, by check, or by money order. You can also find the book for sale in paperback on Amazon.com.
Thank you for your interest in my work.
Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg
rachel@journeyswithautism.com
My Visual Art
Sojourning in the Visual World www.sojournerartist.comUnique Visitors
17,007 | Unique Visitors |
