These days, everyone’s putting a premium on distinct set of skills.

Agile. Switch gears. Nimble. Agile, again. Pivots.

It’s all about how quickly you can de-commit to commitments, rather than being able to stay committed.

No wonder we have trouble.

I had a recent episode on The Life Autistic, where Mrs. H2 had to leave me with the kiddos to make it to a dental appointment.

In the middle of my workday.

I about snapped, even though:

1. I had no issue
2. It was on my calendar
3. Told her it’d be alright
4. My coworkers know I have kids
5. My kids are fun
6. It was on my calendar
7. I’d said it was fine

More often than not, I can either start my day a little later or end it a little sooner.

But having to break work midday? I near imploded and it was bad. Mrs. H2 has to deal with an awful, awfully autistic person at times, and this was a time.

Here’s the deal:

We do really well for the heavy-duty, long-haul, arduous work.

Like a train.

We’re tough to stop, take a while to ramp up, and our ability to focus and commit is a strength.

Not everything needs to be able to pivot. Some things do.

But other items, tasks, works, and goals need an extraordinary commitment, to carry something heavy for a long time, to grind away and move heaven and earth.

We’re not like trucks, where we can tow and carry loads, while also pivoting, switching gears, and navigating more nimbly as needed.

I wish I could train myself completely otherwise on The Life Autistic, but:

Being a train means you can best stay on track.

Why am I laughing?

Well, I’ll get specific. But in general, there’s one fact I don’t highlight often enough.

The Life Autistic is not all bad!

In fact, I do enjoy some of the perks. Here’s a few:

1) Deep focus

I’m sure some humans and neurotypicals possess this too, but it’s wonderful to be able to summon a deepness in tasks that generates flow and keeps us fixed

2) Obsession

As an analyst, I tell people the following in truthful jest: “If you want this done quick, either get my boss to tell me to do it, or get me excited about it.”

I’ve burned hours on projects and data-driven explorations purely out of obsession with trying to find the answers. Once my obsession is popped, it don’t stop.

3) Detachment

On a sadder note, I recall being the designated ‘multimedia’ guy for two family funerals. Things get emotional, and sometimes I’m better able than others to detach from that and not get caught up when things need to happen.

Granted, I’m prone to really juvenile meltdowns over things I shouldn’t be upset over. But when it comes to things where I should be upset like everyone else, I’m usually not. And I can function where others don’t.

4) Memory

It’s amazing.

If you want me to remember something critical, mention it in passing, like it’s some weird piece of trivia. I’ll never forget.

Of course, if it’s actually important, and you tell me I must remember, I’m literally forgetting it as you tell me.

Ok, so this one is 50/50.

5) Difference

I don’t always enjoy the isolation, the otherness, being against the flow.

But at least I know I’m different and differently configured. If anything, that can be memorable!

 

There’s a whole host of other perks, like recall, name recognition, patterns, routines, self-awareness.

I like some of the practical ones too, like ‘control’ — which can come in handy when you’re trying to eat a brunch one handed while keeping a flailing one-year old baby in check ^_^

 

I remember taking myself down the alleyways and misted halls of memory, trying to trace a core feeling I’ve walked around with for a long while:

Why does everyone seem to disappear?

I have no lifelong friends.

The ones close once are now far.

Everyone exits my orbit.

People fade.

I am stupidly fortunate to have a wife and daughters who mostly enjoy me on most days, but I can’t shake the feeling that they too will be just . . . gone.

The Life Autistic is a great exercise in deep self-awareness, and I found one element of the whole “people disappearing” act.

Growing up a Navy brat, life itself and the others around me – they were all in transition.

No one remained for long.

What few friends I had, they’d be stationed elsewhere within months. Years, if I were lucky.

I wasn’t fast on friendship then, and I’m not all that quick about them today.

 

 

But here we are today, and still I ask:

Is everyone going to disappear again?

It’s an innate concern that has me looking without, within.

I am a difficult person in person. 

The Life Autistic, y’all, it tires people.

And we know it.

It’s hard dealing with someone who can whip from mad/sad/glad in an instant.

Who vanishes at a moment’s notice to recover.

Who turns ice cold when the empathy tank runs out.

Who can offer only a shoulder blade of steel to cry on.

Who tries hard to be human, but — just isn’t.

 

It’s why I enjoy working from home. Writing. Tweeting.

I don’t keep a distance because I need it from you.

It’s because you need it from me.