Adrian
This entry is one or three in a perspectives, or “What It’s Like” theme. The idea is to show the sides of Asperger Syndrome from one who has it, or those whom love someone with it. Please check out the other two at Building Common Ground and Teen Autism.
“Adrian,” I sigh as I push the hair matted by tears out of my face, “I don’t get why you don’t get this!”
“What is there to get? You went to give blood, your veins weren’t big enough, and so they turned you away. Am I right?”
He is right. But he’s missing something major. My god brother died of a rare form of cancer when I was eleven. I know that there’s not much that I can do to help save a life, but that giving blood is one way. I feel so indebted to those who tried to help save my god brother, that I want to do whatever I can to pay it forward. When they told me I couldn’t donate, I was devastated.
“Yes, you’re right.” I shoot him a look that could kill, but he seems to have missed it.
“I can see that it upsets you, but why don’t you just try hydrating or lifting weights or something?”
“I fully plan on it, Adrian,” I say as I spit his name out, “but it doesn’t change how hurt I am about it now.”
When I talk to him, it’s obvious that there’s some sort of disconnect. He receives everything I’m saying, but something’s lost in translation. He tries to kiss me, but I push him away with a sigh. I’m not in the mood to kiss and make up yet. I have to fume.
“Sam, why can’t you just move on?”
“Nevermind, it’s not important.”
It is important, but I’m just tired of feeling minimalized.
Time goes by, and I think back to that incident all the time. I try to figure out if I wasn’t explaining myself fully, or if I should’ve said something differently. I can see my facial expressions replaying over and over in my mind, and I know he should be getting it.
One day, a month or so later, I get a phone call from him. He’s quiet on the line, and something isn’t right in his voice.
“So, guess what,” he offers as he trails off.
“Uh, what, I don’t know?” I sit in the driver’s seat of my car, having pulled over to talk to him. I grip the steering wheel nervously although I’m not quite sure why.
“I have Asperger Syndrome.” The air is dead for a while.
“Oh,” I say quietly after some hesitation.
“Yeah, so you know how like…you were so upset about the blood donation thing, and I didn’t get it?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll probably never quite get it. But I’m going to try, okay?”
“Okay. And…and let me know what I can do to be more clear.”
“Of course.”
We had a strange relationship after that, each one of us tiptoeing around the other, trying to figure out how to act. I don’t know if that’s why it ended so soon after it started, or if it just wasn’t meant to be. But regardless, he taught me so much about myself, about AS, and about relationships in general. I owe a lot to my inability to give blood.
November 28, 2008 at 5:58 am
Beautiful post Sam – really well written,. and it makes a nice change to hear about this from someone else’s perspective.
You really have a knack for picking up how what probably seem like little things looking back at them interlink and affect one another.
Loving the new site too.
You cheered up now?
Take care
November 28, 2008 at 8:05 am
My son has As…thank you for understanding
November 28, 2008 at 8:23 am
Wow! Very moving post.
November 28, 2008 at 7:15 pm
Sam, thanks for the link and for sharing your perspective on dating someone with AS. Good luck with your creative writing pursuits; I think you’re doing quite well from what I’ve read here!
Best wishes,
Tanya @ Teen Autism
November 28, 2008 at 8:26 pm
Sam I like your new layout…..very cool, I have had friends with Aspergers
and it can be vexing to say the least.
persevere –verb / to persist in anything undertaken; maintain a purpose in spite of difficulty, obstacles, or discouragement; continue steadfastly.
fd
November 28, 2008 at 10:39 pm
You’re such an amazing writer; I love you.
(Consider this read, btw.)
November 29, 2008 at 5:11 pm
first off, the site looks good, but just like my new mac, it will take some time getting used to. secondly, you have beautiful veins (hah). just thought i’d tell you that from a medic’s prospective. can i stick you? oooooh wow that sounded wrong. i’m gonna stop now. love ya kiddo
November 29, 2008 at 7:20 pm
Sam,
I have a good friend who has a daughter with Autism. He writes and talks about it quite a bit, and he has a really good perspective. His blog is “http://nhmind.blogspot.com.” Definitely worth reading, and I think you may find some things that you can work with. His name is Pete – if you need to bounce stuff off of someone, tell him I sent you.
For years before I got into EMS full time I worked as the tech coordinator for one of the school districts out this way. I had a family of kids that I worked with, and of the 5 kids in this family 3 of them had AS. All extremely intelligent, all very much like you describe Adrian.
A great post – you are an incredibly talented writer. Someone who can be learned from, in fact….
December 1, 2008 at 1:19 am
[...] check out Jeffrey Deutsch’s informative posts on relationships. Another interesting post was written by Sam, who dated someone with Asperger’s. We can all learn so much from each [...]
December 2, 2008 at 12:16 pm
Beyond Asperger, I see the basic, guy, “I want to just fix it.” thing going on in your story. We all do this to some degree. It’s like we can’t help ourselves.
It took me a long time to learn this leason with my wife. She would come to me upset about something and my first reaction was, “she must want help fixing this!” I launched into suggestions instead of telling her I was sorry about what she was going through.
I can see myself in the whole, “Why not lift some wieghts?” response. It’s a horible response, but in a guys mind it makes sense. …Let me help you fix this.
The right response is, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” As men so often find, the right response is often elusive.
I also notice this dynamic in the responses to your story. With one exception, the female responders support and afirm your feelings. The male responders make suggestions (Myself included.)
Be well Sam. And by the way, I’m sorry this happened to you.
December 8, 2008 at 12:19 pm
You are an amazing writer, as usual. The new site looks great. Happy Finals.
December 8, 2008 at 2:45 pm
Blessed be…
December 8, 2008 at 3:37 pm
The fact that I can imagine these scenes and “characters” so vividly is a testament to your writing. I just love your blog! You’ve inspired me to pay more attention to my own (with your encouraging comments)
ps – the new site is pretty stylish, I like.
December 24, 2008 at 7:43 pm
Hello Sam,
Very well written. I especially like the opening, in which you show how much Adrian’s situation affected you: “hair matted by tears out of my face”. I am not surprised that this is written by a Creative Writing major, and a smart one to boot.
I’m glad you learned quite a bit about Asperger Syndrome; I’m only sorry that it cost you that kind of hurt. You must have been quite exasperated with Adrian, maybe even wondering how he really felt about you if he seemed so oblivious to what you were going through. That kind of situation helps explain why some people in relationships still say they feel lonely.
You may want to include a note in the italicized prologue to your post showing what this series – which includes my post at Building Common Ground – is about: How AS and autism affect relationships. That will help draw the reader’s interest to your article, and also to the ones at Teen Autism and Building Common Ground.
Have a good holiday season and a Happy New Year, Sam!
Jeff Deutsch