Comments on: That Old Invisibility Thing

By: Jennifer

Jennifer — Mon, 10 May 2010 21:30:14 +0000

Rachel, sorry, I’ve only just read this blog entry and I know that it’s old news.
I wonder whether when Fred didn’t copy his email to you, it was a question of being somewhat sexist addressing the “male” rather than an issue with autism.
I found Elisabeth’s comments really interesting. It’s very true, but I’ve never seen someone say it so openly before: men-women platonic friendships are very very very difficult to navigate, but you’ll most often hear that denied.
It’s the reason why I try to be very careful with what I say and do to prevent men getting the wrong impression, and the reason why I have no proper ‘friendships’ with men (other than my husband), except for some friendly acquaintance (you greet each other, have impromptu conversations but don’t arrange to meet each other on a regular basis).

By: Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg — Thu, 06 May 2010 18:20:27 +0000

Thanks, J &J. Those are great quotes, especially “You hear me but you aren’t listening.” That pretty much sums it up.

By: Jennifer Gardner

Jennifer Gardner — Thu, 06 May 2010 17:19:41 +0000

I can sum this up in two sentences/quotes. I must, however, give quote credit to my husband because he has said this to me over and over and over and over . . . . .

1. “You hear me but you aren’t listening”

2. ” I know what my problems are and we aren’t talking about that. I accept and work on me everyday. We are discussing what’s wrong with you”. – In this case, the word “you” should be replaced with the name “Fred”.

I hear you Rachel and you aren’t invisible. You are a topic of conversation in my household a lot. Your posts are great subjects to ask questions about and my husband appreciates the interest. Hang in there. All will be OK.

By: Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 11:52:55 +0000

Thanks, Danielle. My needs are so simple: Communicate with me directly, be kind, and respect my very existence. Is that so difficult?

By: Danielle

Danielle — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 07:29:25 +0000

Ugh! All these “possibilities” are making me tired just reading them! You say he read your blog, you say there have been conversations about you feeling invisible. Just those two things alone should be enough information for him to know to keep things as straightforward as possible with you and not to be anything but, straightforward with you. Anyone who can’t be that is not worth your time. Lonliness is no fun but, the aggravation from having to figure out all these mind games that you’ve communicated already you struggle with and makes you exhausted well, I don’t know, I just don’t think others get how exhausting it is for us and we just can’t turn it off no matter how hard we try and give benefits of the doubts and consider all the scenarios etc etc etc. I even understand why you deleted his other email unread but, I do wonder what it said though.

By: Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg — Wed, 21 Apr 2010 18:22:34 +0000

How clear do I have to make this? I have not see this person in four months. Therefore, there has been no body language, no nonverbal communication, no hidden meanings, no mixed message for him to read AT ALL. The last time I saw him, I was enthusiastically attempting to get together and have conversations with friends in ways that worked for me.

His response does not make me feel ashamed, nor do I think he was trying to evoke shame. I don’t know how he thinks, and he does not know how I think. If anyone believes that my right as a human being to respond with consequences to the disrespect of another person is revenge, they are quite mistaken. Besides, I wish the world in general would spend a little more time on how the other guy’s behavior might be interpreted (as cruelty, disrespect, insensitivity, privileged ignorance, etc.) rather than harping on my so-called (and altogether illusory) “deficits” that seem to include expecting someone to treat me like a Real Human Being. Excuse me, but the last time I looked, there was nothing wrong with me. Difference is not disease or disorder, and being autistic is not a Get Out of Ethical Reality Free card for the rest of the world.

And just to set the record straight, I don’t do revenge. I do truth. I do survival. I do integrity. I do hope until I feel as stupid as a post sometimes. But revenge is not part of my vocabulary. It never has been, and it never will be.

By: Elizabeth Aucoin

Elizabeth Aucoin — Wed, 21 Apr 2010 16:23:26 +0000

I’m not talking about literal invisibility, I’m talking about body language (often completely subconscious) which shows people both our differences and our vulnerability. In a sense, our differences “confront” other people before we open our mouths. How they behave in response to what they see will depend on a lot of things that we have no control over. And this is what I wonder about. You have lately been needing more control over your environment than you did before and the things you can’t control affect you more than they used to. But you will never have control over someone else’s response to you–and if it provokes shame in you, then you may feel that they are making you feel ashamed, and it’s not the same thing. There is a blog: http://www.ordinarycourage.com where a woman researcher explores the subject of shame resilience and dealing with our shame triggers. What you call teaching someone that there are future consequences of their actions toward you could be interpreted as revenge. That is why I felt it represented a slow burn of anger. It reminded me of that old Chinese proverb: He who takes revenge digs two graves.

By: bluedancer

bluedancer — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 22:31:54 +0000

hi–i just wanted to post another quick comment.

another thing i get from your blog is that you’re good at your own clarity: what you want and need, and that’s refreshing to me. (i struggle with that.) we’re from backgrounds that are not so different. i grew up in, yes–one of those families. i tend to find repeats of it, and now am more or less a “refugee” from a painful community as well.

i think it’s why i connect so deeply to this blog and what you have to say. there are many lessons in it for me in how to navigate and re-connect.

i also think it’s important–when one is already reeling from all this—to be able to expect support: or at the very least, that people don’t sabotage you when you’re trying to get your balance back.

i no longer think, “oh, please give him a second chance.” that’s what i tell myself about my family and sometimes the ex-community (i don’t want to go back, but have unnecessary regrets.) it’s a sort of “programming,” i think, from growing up around people who almost loved me–but didn’t quite. maybe this time, maybe this time—they will. it’s not fair to push that on someone else.

again: thanks for the courage. it’s all i can say.

By: Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 20:32:18 +0000

Liz,

There was no mixed message. At all. Reciprocity is not my weakness. He sent an email; I answered it. We made plans; I was there. He was having difficulties with something. I listened. I was having difficulties with something. He listened. There was no simmering anger underneath it all toward him. He was well aware of how hurt I was by what happened at the shul we were attending, and he reached out, and he made the reassurances that he would continue to connect with me, and then, he stopped, and he went ahead and did the very thing that he knew I cannot stand people doing. What am I supposed to do, say, hey, I’m over here, please, pay attention to me, I’ve only asked a few hundred times before? I’ve known this guy for 10 years, and we’ve had innumerable conversations about a great many things. I’m hardly giving up without a fight. And wanting my husband to continue having the friendship of a person who means something to him (they get together outside the house in several different venues) is not a sign of confusion. It’s a sign of my love for my husband. Telling the guy he’s not getting a grant lets him know there are consequences, but I’m not letting my husband lose a friend over it.

And yes, when I was younger, I made myself invisible, but now, you could hardly call me that. I am quite visibly disabled, and I show up in public that way, and I write a blog under my real name, and I’m publishing an autobiography under my real name, and while I necessitate solitude to recharge, and I choose carefully where I put my energy, I make a lot of effort to stay in the flow of life and to put energy into people who seem like potential friends. It isn’t my fault when they screw up, their much-vaunted NT empathy notwithstanding.

By: Elizabeth Aucoin

Elizabeth Aucoin — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 19:58:20 +0000

Rachel, I have not been abused as you have, and I do not want to add to your suffering or minimize it. The people who come to this site come because you are an articulate and talented survivor fighting many of the same battles we are. I know we call this relationship problem one of invisibility, but as I remember it, I only started becoming invisible when I chose to be (because I needed to recover from some open wound). I remember that hiding how I spent my time (and my ostracism) from the people who would have cared and helped if they had understood at all (or known how to help) was for a while an occupation that consumed me as a child. It was sometimes thrilling because: first, it took logic and some very fine acting–second, it let me keep, at least for short periods, my dignity. When I couldn’t endure something and I needed to shut down, I was all about how to disappear like wallpaper or furniture in a way that was unassailable. I remember at some point knowing that invisibility had become a habit I didn’t know how to break. What comes through most in this particular post, Rachel, is that you are so vulnerable right now, and your peace is a fragile thing. Your words convey feelings of helplessness (you say you have no choice whether or not to believe what Fred tells you) and confusion (by all means come see Bob–who I live with–but avoid me–he’s your friend and I won’t get between you–except to veto all your future projects). In short, you would like to be invisible to this man from now on because you are just too raw and wounded to deal with the demands of socializing. I don’t think he sidestepped you because he doesn’t respect you but rather because he doesn’t know how to deal with the mixed message. The problems we Aspies have with reciprocity are documented, Our narrow focus is documented. Our intense scrutiny of a subject is known. And if he senses the simmering anger underneath it all, he might well wish to avoid you.