So glad to see you back! I can’t count the number of times people have told me things like “You’d be dynamite if we could only fix whatever-it-is…” I’m starting to feel, once again, the liberating nature of *not* needing to fix anything about myself. I’ve put in my time on that. Now I try to just do what I feel most called to do.

Thank you for your beautiful message and words of support. I hope that my blog will continue to help you understand both your husband and your son.

My son was diagnosed with AS about two years ago and after researching and learning about AS I wonder whether my husband has it too. Some of what you talked about here resonates deeply with me as I watch him (my husband) struggle in the world. You have helped me to see his struggle with more sympathy and understand his lack of socialization and friends.

As for the AS person who is close to you. I understand that your anxiety is very real and your pain has caused you to second guess whether it is a good idea to meet with her. But she may be feeling the same way and the fear of losing another relationship may cause you both to lose the opportunity at what could be a fantastic relationship.

From what I have read here you are wonderful! You express your concerns beautifully. I wish that we were closer together, I would love to get to know you and learn more about who you are AS and all!

Know “social anxiety” is not your diagnosis-but I draw useful tidbits from all over the range of mental problems, to address my own myriad challenges.

These quotes appeal to my individual sensibility/filter/process-hope they don’t irritate/annoy/aggravate other readers. Am not saying you don’t know all this-merely that I find it helpful to remind myself of them. Applying (emotionally) the ideas one knows oh-so-well (intellectually) can be excruciating amount of effort (and often isn’t possible, no matter how hard one strains the brain).

From “Painfully Shy: How to overcome social anxiety and reclaim your life” by Barbara & Gregory Markway, 2001:

“…the more we yell at ourselves to ‘buck up’, ‘snap out of it’, or ‘get tough’, the more anxious we become.”
“Remember, acceptance doesn’t mean you’re giving up and not trying anymore. In contrast, it means you’re looking at yourself and your situation realistically.”
“…it’s much easier to work toward change if you’re not wasting energy criticizing yourself for your perceived flaws.”

“We need quiet, thoughtful people in the world” was an affirmation from the book-with which I could actually agree.
“It’s good to keep in mind that shyness and sensitivity are not necessarily ‘good’ or ‘bad’ traits, but ones that are valued differently depending upon where you live.”

Instead of saying this: “You’re shy”, try this: “You’re talkative with people you know well.”
Instead of: “Don’t be afraid”, try saying: “It takes a little while for you to feel comfortable with new people.”
Instead of: “You’re anxious”, try: “You’re cautious. You like to know what something is all about before you try it.”
* Those were suggestions for parents to say to their shy children-yet I find them fitting “reframings” for me (an adult).

“Before the surgery, I had become fairly immobilized with pain. I wasn’t able to see many clients (it hurt just to sit), and I couldn’t do much around the house. In addition, I had been doing some volunteer work, and now I was forced to say ‘no’ to any such requests. After the surgery, my recovery period was longer than I’d planned. I was limited in what I could do.

Because I’d always tended to judge myself by external standards, particularly by how much I’d achieved or accomplished, I had a lot of ‘adjusting’ to do. I questioned whether or not I had any value as a person since I wasn’t able to do anything ‘productive’. What good was I to anyone ?

Somehow, slowly, I began to realize that I could still do (or perhaps be) the things that truly mattered: I made Greg (her husband) smile, I read Jesse (her son) a book, I listened to a friend’s problems. I came to view myself differently. Before my back surgery. I sometimes made diminishing remarks about myself such as, ‘I’m too nice’ or ‘I’m boring’. Now I thought to myself, ‘Nice is good. Nice is something of value.’

I also lost some of my vanity regarding how I looked. I moved slowly and awkwardly after the surgery, but I didn’t care-at least I was moving. I carried a pillow so I could attend church more comfortably; that’s an idea I would’ve shunned before. I wore flat, sensible shoes, and I still do. It may sound trite, but I’ve found it’s true: Good things can come from life’s challenges.”

* Last couple lines of that do strike me as too optimistically neat & tidy, but I wanted to include the full anecdote.

I’ve been reading all of your words, trying to absorb it all. It may take awhile. It’s such a gift to hear people say, “I’m not sure what to say” and then to hear them say it anyway, and to say things that are so deep and true.

In an email exchange today, I wrote something that I want to send out to all of you:

“I’ve been getting so much support and appreciation for writing my blog that I feel much better today. All I’ve ever wanted in life is to do something important, something of worth–not to be famous, but to have a positive impact on the lives of other people. Unfortunately, my early indoctrination into the idea that I was capable of anything made me think of helping people in a more formal, credentialed, mainstream way, and until this week, I hadn’t realized how much power that early training has had over my life. While my spiritual path is to simply do the work without the glory, I’m still detaching from those old voices and expectations.”

Finally, I’ve found a way to be of use–here, with all of you. And for that, I’m profoundly grateful.