Hi guys, I mentioned I would be bringing a number of my posts up from the Yahoo groups to post onto here, and this is one of them. I wrote this in the summer of 2008, months after having discovered my SPD. I posted it to SID-DSI AllAboutKids, and then later to a few other groups.

It is an analogy, a metaphorical story that occurs at a night-time house party. I wrote this while I was recovering from a meltdown, and wanted to share how I saw my situation in the world at that time. Some of this may not make a lot of sense to you, but hopefully some of it will hit home.

This was a while ago, and not necessarily exactly how I see things right now, but I think it's still an interesting read:



Social Interaction Story from the SPD Perspective

"Welcome to the party!" They casually exclaim as I open the door to the house, full of hope. I meander around a bit amongst the crowd at the house party, but there's something wrong here. Everything is off. I feel terrible, instead of happy like I should. The music is deafeningly loud and it doesn't sound right. The lights are turned too bright and they are aimed directly at my eyes. The food feels like slime in my throat and I can't choke it down. No one in this party smells to me like they've showered in a year. Yet everyone seems happy, somehow. They move about freely, talking and communicating with one and other. How can they stand it?

I grab for a glass of wine, but as soon as I do, one suddenly comes into view right next to it and I can't stop my hand quickly enough. I knock it over and it falls to the ground, shattering to pieces. It pierces my ears and I cringe and hope no one heard me. No one seemed to, except one person, the party bouncer. I have tried my hardest to like and tolerate this maddening party, but he has had his eyes on me since the moment I entered the room. I haven't been a welcoming sight to him, and he was waiting for his opportunity to expose me and remove me. This was his opportunity. By accident, I have broken some of the houses' finest crystal glasses.

He moves swiftly. I'm blocked in, or at least I feel like I am. I can not move. He grabs me, his fingers pinching into my skin, stabbing me in places I could neither detect nor feel, but I am now experiencing deep pain there, though his firm grip feels good. He moves me to the exit, making loud comments about what kind of person I am to everyone around me. To him and everyone else now, I am a hassle, a rule breaker, a liability, a lost cause, a klutz, an outsider, and above all, a misfit. I feel that those statements are unwarranted, but I have no ability to defend myself in enough time, and everyone is laughing.

I am thrown from the house. The door is shut behind me. I hear the door lock as I look back at it longingly from my seat on the cold, hard winter pavement. Discarded. I'm alone in the cold dark night, and in a bad neighborhood. Some people die here, or so I've been told. I keep a lookout, now that I'm locked out. I hear dogs barking and a police siren a mile away. I hear all kinds of creaking and popping sounds in my nearby vicinity. Did I hear footsteps? I can't see anything in the dark, except shadows dancing on the walls. Not good. I needed to get back in.

The doors are locked. I yell, but no one hears. My voice falls silent, no one could have heard it. Panicking, my words hadn't come out right, anyway, and no one would have cared even if they did hear or understand me. I have already been labeled as a weird outcast. They will not open their doors for someone like me.

The house is not a fortress. There are windows. I move up to one and gaze in longingly. Inside, everyone is dancing and talking, still moving about freely, without restraint. They can't see out the window. They don't notice me. Do I want them to notice me, after what just happened?

I think that question is valid, but I remember that I am outside in a bad area. I hear another popping noise behind me. Is someone there, staring at me? I turn around and see nothing, yet in my minds eye, I automatically picture a demonic man standing next to me, dark and scary, half dead. He screams and lashes out at me. I stiffen up. I remember it's not real, but it almost feels real. I can't think straight. The cold is cutting off my breath. I can't remember where I parked. I have to get into the house.

I try tapping on the windows, but they close the blinds. I walk around the house, dejected – no place to go. The dark terrifies me, and it continues to play tricks on my mind. I can't stop the thoughts from resurfacing. I need to be in the house, in the light, in the heat, though it annoys me. I need to be surrounded by people. These thoughts and demons can't get me there. But there is no way in.

`Ah Ha!' I think, proud of my insight. I recalled they had a back entrance for late comers. They were closing it soon. I headed over, looking into each window I passed, thinking to myself, "I can do it. I can be happy with them in that house. I think."

On my way to the door, as I'm trying to avoid my terrorizing thoughts, I suddenly trip on a chain. Incredibly loud barking cuts through the night. Right next to me! They had an attack dog, and I couldn't see it. I jumped away, nearly running into a tree. I avoided the dog, but I was terrified now, and the thoughts began to creep back into my head. I'm being followed. Someone is watching me. I've seen it in the movies, and it's happening to me now.

I run to the door and am thrilled to find it hasn't been closed. A bouncer is standing there, a different one. I am relieved and desperate to get in. Too desperate. Too terrified. I run up to him, afraid of being chased in the dark. It startles him. I forgot it would. I try to settle myself down, but my heart is pounding and racing and it consumes my thoughts. My inner body is shaking and vibrating. I can't settle down.

"Easy, easy" he commands, like I'm a bucking horse he has to contain. I try to tell him what I want to say, to let me in, but I'm too afraid. I don't look or sound right. My shirt buttons have come undone from being manhandled. My pant legs are torn and dirty from tripping. I look like a bum who is dirty and doesn't have money to clean himself. I act like I am on drugs, because I am so afraid. I beg, but there is no way he will let me in. He too shuts me out. He too shuts and locks the door in my face. I had heard about him before, and that he was an accepting man, but he wouldn't accept me.

I am outside still, alone in the dark. Inside, I can hear them laughing. They are eating, they are talking, they are making jokes, and having fun. They are happy. I'm on the other side of the wall. I cannot penetrate. I can not partake. Maybe I wasn't meant to. But that couldn't be right. Had I really done anything wrong? I had done the best I could. I had tried, but this is where I am now.

Inside, I can hear some of them complaining. The food doesn't taste quite as good as they hoped it would. They like more expensive wine. The band isn't exactly the style they had wanted. I had been no more annoyed by these things, had I? Yet they stayed and talked loudly and had fun all night. They weren't excluded.

I stay outside. I look back in the window every now and then, wondering how they do it – how they can stand that environment and that much chaos. `But I won't complain about it' I told myself. After all, complainers annoyed me. `I will keep silent. They have to let me in.'

That is only my delusion, though. They will not let me in. Not through that window. Not me, never. I've taken my chances, and I wasted them all. I am a jerk. I am not a good person. I know why they don't like me. I know how I look to them, but I don't believe it. I thought I had tried. I thought I was a good person. I am not. It was my own lie to keep myself happy.

Now I'm out in the cold. I press my back up against the wall, and crumple to the ground. Miserable. This is the only place I can be accepted. I call some of these people my friends. But I have no friends. I have no home. I have a sidewalk, and a patch of dirt to cry in. Can I stay in this reality?

No, I decide. So I do what people tell me I do best. I drift off into my little world. How big it is now! Usually it's filled with excitement, stories, and adventure, but tonight, it's pure delusion. Delusion that someone out there can see me. Delusion that someone out there cares about what emotional state I am in. Delusion that someone else will see me suffering and try to help.

I picture someone leaving the house, if only for a smoke. I picture them seeing me crying alone. I picture them smiling, recognizing me, and calling me by name. They pick me up. They dust me off. They give me a hug, and tell me I'm not alone – that they are there for me and that they care. They let me into the house. I am accepted and supported. Admired and loved. And for once – I can feel it!

But that is all delusion. That hasn't happened. That will not happen. Not for me. I am alone in the dark and in the cold. I hope to see someone else out here. To see another person who is as discarded and rejected as I am for no apparent reason, but I see no one. I wished there was.

We could get together. We could have a party of our own. It might not be as big and showy as the other one, but we would understand each other, and even though we would still be miserable in our dejection, we could still find a way to try to enjoy the evening. Our party would be small, but it would be ten times more meaningful than the fake one we were rejected from – where everyone was trying to act impressive, to put on a show and win acceptance from people who were probably shallow.

Of course though, even that was delusional. There was no one else here. I know there are others tonight probably feeling the same way, but not here. Not at this party. It's just me.

I think to myself, because I know I'm intelligent and I believe I am capable, I will make a lot of money, and buy a house like that. I would throw parties where everyone was accepted, and no one would get dejected like this. For once, it would be logical. For once, it would make sense. I realize that even this is delusional. It is impossible. I am not able. Some of the people at the party are my employers. I need to impress them or I won't succeed. Not only have I failed to impress them, I have been thrown from their party, from their presence. This will never work. Why do I still try?

I am still alone in the dark, and in the cold. This is not the first time. This has been going on for years. What can I do? What will happen to me?

A brief description/deciphering of what I wrote:

The party-goers are the people I have to talk to daily. The bouncers are the people who don't get me, regardless of whether they are judging me on first impressions or on general appearance and the words that I say and actions I do. Anyone, including family members, can act like the bouncers at times, even though they usually try to understand
or accept me.

The haunting thoughts are the real thoughts that I encounter every day, and they are sometimes exactly what I wrote. The imagined party member that helped me could have been any neuro-typical person, who I often want to come and comfort me during these times (which are frequent), but I have to accept the fact that they won't, especially since they have lives to live. Parties to get back to.

The imagined outcast, as you probably suspected, is another SPD'er who is in the same situation as I am. I know they exist, but they aren't physically present, so it's hard to believe they are truly around. As for owning the house and throwing the parties myself, that explains the person I would be if I can ever obtain the inner peace and sensory balance that other's have, and yet have to try to become even if I don't get what they have.

I'm glad that I wrote this, as it helped me get some stuff off my mind. Feel free to comment if you wish.

Thank you for sharing this, D1G1t.

A lot of this reminds me of some things I wrote a while back, when I was writing more often and as my personal form of "therapy." It just reminds me that so much of the difficulty that is a part of having SPD is not necessarily the sensory issues but the lack of understanding or belief from those who cannot imagine their effects. It makes it no wonder that so many people with SPD also suffer from depression.

I'm glad you decided to throw a "house party" for those of us who hang out here. I like my parties a little quieter, so it's nice to share them with someone who has plastic drink glasses, Stain Master carpet, and a friendly understanding of my need to not be poked and prodded. It means a lot.

I throw parties often. Board Gaming parties. My house is large enough to have 30 different people playing games at once. Usually I keep the parties to 8-14 people.

My house is set up to be sensory comforting to me and no one is allowed to bring food that will trigger my food allergies.

I am a Neurotypical who specifically tries to find as many Unique individuals as possible and befriend them. I find that they make good friends.

I have been shut out of the "Normal" groups all my life, which is why starting at 8 years old I started building my own groups. The only place it really became a problem was in the work place when I ran into people who hate the disabled and are out to remove them from the work place. Since these same people were often in positions of power it meant that I was rarely one of those that got invited to work socializing events where most of the professional upward mobility happened. When I realized I was being shut out I tried to "force" invites for myself, but that just made those in power more irritated with me.

So I just content myself with those who like my company and are willing to accommodate my other Unique friends, for many of us have different accommodations that are necessary for us to function in a group setting.

If you are willing to accommodate others, they are more willing to accommodate you.

For example: I always ask my guests if they have any allergies or other health problems that we need to be aware of so that we don't cause them a problem. We also let people know we have a Handicap ramp into the house for those who need it through the garage. By showing a willingness to cooperate upfront, the guests are more willing to accommodate the house rules about what kind of foods and items are allowed in the house. This allows me a much higher chance at having a successful party for me and the attendees.

I rarely have the stereotypical party of wine, dance, and loud music. Mostly because my senses wouldn't be able to tolerate a large number of people doing that in my house. So I adjusted what defines a party to fit my personal needs and available guests.

If you want people to treat you better you have to treat them better.

Stereotypes have no value, so dump them and start over treating people like people. You will find that will open a lot more doors than expecting others to change to meet your ideas on how they should act.

I make friends with people of all backgrounds (racial, various able levels, and sexual orientations). I might feel uncomfortable around some of them, but they all have equal value to me and their opinions are no less important than my own. This attitude helps break down some of the barriers of ignorance that have been built up.

I am also willing to correct my behavior or words to match the standard of the person I am talking to, because they are giving me the priviledge of their time.

I never know where I will be when I next need a ton of help from strangers, so for me it is vital that I make sure that as many people around me as possible are willing to help me when I get into trouble.

SKOREAPV83 since you need people to be willing to adjust to tactile signing, you really can't afford to be offending people just because they don't fit your concepts of what a person who should pay attention to you looks, talks, or acts like.

I learned social interaction from my father. He would just walk into a crowd of people (could be hundreds) and by the end of the day have spoken to each and everyone of them. He wouldn't remember any of them even maybe an hour later, but they would all remember him for a long time. I am similar, but I remember people for longer (not their names though). I have plenty of young adults who came up to me years later and told me that I inspired them to do something with their life usually from a 5-15 random discussion while I was waiting somewhere bored.

(02-28-2011, 07:50 PM)SKOREAPV83 Wrote: Thanks a lot for reminding me I'm all wrong and accusing me of mistreating people. You're saying it the exact way an NT does, and I just can't take it anymore. Moderators please don't ban me. I haven't even shared any stereotypes.

Hi there. I think you're taking the post above you a bit too personally. By making posts like this, you are saying things that could very well lead to drama. I encourage you to please not make posts of this nature in the future.

In general, remember our big rule to be kind and supportive of one and other.

Hi SKOREAPV83,

I didn't mean my post as a personal attack. I was trying to be helpful in explaining that labelling others makes them less likely to want to learn your ways. I don't know if you actually label people or not.

You were the one that mentioned that you used stereotyping to determine your reactions to others.

I just know that I am much less willing to accommodate someone who has just labelled me or said something offensive about a group I identify with or a group I support.

I am not sure how that is Neurtotypical, other than I know a lot of people with a wide range of disabilities that all have problems accommadating each other when you make fun of their specific disability.

I know I have been accidentally insensitive to a person suffering from PTSD due to abuse in their childhood, then belatedly realizing why they are mad at me, and less willing to help for a bit. It takes a lot of hard work to be aware of other people's backgrounds and what can offend them. It is hard work even for those who do not have Autism and Aspergers. It is just even more difficult for those with Autism and Aspergers.

My special ability is to walk into crowds and meet almost everyone there. Something my SPD actually helps with for once because I am MORE likely to register the little facial ticks and body movements from a person when they are happy or annoyed with what I am saying. I haven't met a lot of other people that are comfortable just trying to meet as many people as possible in an unfamiliar setting. Most of the others I have met who can do it it was a hard trained skill that they learned for their career.