Donovan and Nanny 1993
The Crow of which I speak is not avian. I am the Crow in question.
I’m treading on unfamiliar ground here, trying to publicly
analyze the inner workings of something so familiar yet so exasperatingly
foreign to me. There are times when I
wonder if I might also be an Aspie, especially as it defines my general lack of
interpersonal skills. My grandson,
Donovan, and I share a number of neuropsychological traits, but differ in our
approaches to other people, in our abilities to recognize when we have gone too
far, or even completely awry, in our efforts to connect to others, and in how to prevent ourselves from making those same missteps in the future.
We went to watch “The Hobbit” last Sunday at a local theater. As the credits rolled and the low lights came
up, some older teens, perhaps college freshmen or sophomores, behind us began
talking about – analyzing, actually – the literary merits of the various scenes
just viewed. Grandson turned around to
join in, but was out of his league, though, to their credit, the other young
people engaged him. Donovan didn’t catch
that they weren’t talking about the computer graphics wonders of the film, but
he kept plugging on. I think he was
trying to impress the lone girl in the group of five.
Donovan’s language was that of a much younger kid, maybe 12
or 13, but at 6’5” with shoulders to match, he obviously is older than that.
At some point, the other kids (hey, they’re decades younger
than I, so they’re kids) tried to take back the conversation they had
started. Grandson tagged along, or tried
to, anyway. Girl-of-his-focus said to
her friends, “Did any of you notice the allegory in the movie about the dwarves
being like the Jews?”
Nobody answered her.
“You know, how they were driven from their lands, had all
their gold and treasures stolen from them?”
Still no response from her friends. Donovan tried to talk about how cool the
dragon Smaug looked.
“When they became wanderers?” Girl tried without success to get a response
from her friends, and turned sharply away from Donovan.
He persisted. He didn’t
understand the body-language signals that said she didn’t want to include him
in the conversation.
He also wasn’t aware of the mounting tension between our
group and theirs. My daughter was
getting her mother-bear look in her eyes and sat up too straight in her
seat. The other kids noticed it, but not
Grandson.
To break the tension, I asked the girl, “What was your first
clue?” Fortunately, everybody laughed,
though Grandson wasn’t sure why that was funny.
Me, neither, in retrospect, but it broke the tension and gave them a
graceful out. We all gathered our coats
and left the theater.
I’ve thought about this interchange several times over the
last few days. About how I had (still
have) the same inability to fit in with my peers in social settings.
Like Donovan, I found (find) it easier to relate to people
either much younger or much older than I.
I fall all over myself with people in my age group, both men and women,
frequently missing cues that tell me I’ve committed a faux pas and need to shut the heck up, three minutes ago!
Like Donovan, too, I didn’t (don’t) always understand what
just happened to break the connection.
However, I’ve since learned to recognize that there has been a break. My usual response is to withdraw, not
participate. I find it easier to do that
than to continue struggling to fit in.
No doubt, I’ve lost out on some valuable experiences by not struggling
onward, but sometimes it just hurts too much to try. Fortunately for Grandson, he hasn’t given up;
he valiantly carries on.
I continue to put my foot – uh, make that feet – in my mouth
when dealing with my peers and have left behind me a trail of baffled
could-have-been-friends. In the process,
some of them have labeled me “odd-duck”, “strange-bird” or, more recently, “quirky”. It suggests that I’m too different. I can’t
tell if they’re teasing me or not, but the sting remains, regardless.
When that happens, I “pull in my horns,” as the I Ching advises when you’ve gone too far
in your dealings with others. The image
I have when I read that expression is of a snail pulling in its eye stalks,
then retreating into its shell, which I too often do.
I hope I can learn why I retreat, why I “step in it” in the
first place, and how to repair the damage I may have done so that I may help
Grandson find an easier way to navigate through life. People like us, he and I, are in the
minority, and as such, we are the ones who must make the effort to adapt, to
change who we are inside, so that we may fit in. At least, fit in better, because there are
some very good things about us, because of the way we are, that would be terrible
to lose.
For us and for the rest of the world.
11 comments:
Difficult for everyone, save those rare extrovert charmers. Even that girl in the other group couldn't make her point in a way that engaged her friends to respond.
We all live in our own little realities, trying to reach out to each other with fumbling hearts. Training helps, at any age, from pros and friends.
Although you've turned this into a specifically personal variant I think what you say has links with the subject Lucy raises in a recent post. That we have two forms: one that flourishes while we are actually talking to others (especially groups) and another that agonises afterwards about excesses, omissions, misunderstandings, etc. It's worth reading the comments there (though you can ignore mine; an old story read to a slightly different accompaniment) and noting how the original post struck a chord.
In your case, if I've read it correctly, the talk and the self-scrutiny are almost simultaneous and the latter interferes with the former. I say this because you suggest you (and Grandson) belong to a minority. This may be an ironic comfort in some ways, on the other hand it may a misreading of a phenomenon that occurs more widely. Certainly in my case: talking up a storm followed by lots of "Oh no, oh no." in the privacy of my own mind.
The solution for me is exactly the same as the one you prescribe for yourself - ie, "we are the ones who must make the effort to adapt, to change who we are inside, so that we may fit in." In my case I can reduce that prescription even more "A little less social selfishness" although that would be taking it much too far for you.
There's another clash. We are all entitled to think we are unique and yet even hosts of such individuals do conform statistically to certain norms of behaviour. Some people reject this idea, saying it undermines their self-view, that they are a giraffe treading on an ant-hill. So be it. The fact that you are able to look objectively at yourself is a healthy sign and there is nobody insisting on what conclusions you should arrive at. The individual/group contradiction has existed since Adam and Eve (who were either two separates or a group of two) and for me, at least, I'm pretty sure they came up with the right decision, even though we as their descendants must suffer some intellectual grief from time to time. The Garden of Eden for all eternity? I think not.
Ah, Martha - how well I recognise your perfectly described scenario. You may remember that my grandson, Alex has Asperger's syndrome and has that same inability to gauge those fine nuances of social understanding. However, training and correction has helped him immeasurably.
I am sure you know Thoreau's quote on the subject - take comfort from it:
"Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed, and in such desperate enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."
I think your grandson is very lucky to have you around for it sounds like you can somewhat relate to his world and can understand him better than others.
I love the picture of you and Donovan—thanks for sharing it.
Others have already written the response that came to my mind when I first read your post a couple of days ago. Many (most?)of us have feelings of inadequacy in groups or feel that we're one walking social gaffe after another.
My classic story is about the time we moved from a rural area to Atlanta. Because of my husband's work, I got thrown headfirst into a group of very polished, socially perfect women. At the first meeting I attended, I finally found one woman I felt comfortable talking with, and I monopolized her throughout the hour or two we were there. At the very end of our time, I discovered that she was there as the babysitter—not part of the group. Two outsiders.
I strikes me that some of us are far more comfortable writing than we are talking. That absolutely must be the case for you because you write so wonderfully. Bask in that.
I can appreciate your worry about Donovan and your excellent reasons for taking a deeper look at yourself as a means to help him. What you've described here about your own dealings with your peer group in social situations is something I've experienced often enough myself. I think a large percentage of people in our generation feel a stronger need for conformity than used to be the case in earlier decades. The very fact you can have a good time with people older and younger than you seems proof enough to me you really don't have very much to be concerned about in that regard.
ps: That's a beautiful picture of the two of you. I'm glad to know he got through the surgery well.
Hi, Crow!
What a cute picture! Your love is visible.
And a fascinating post on a difficult subject I think a lot about--how do we socialize with others?
Along those lines, have you seen "Silver Linings Playbook" yet?
The main character is bi-polar, and he faces similar challenges--he's always behaving "inappropriately" (too blunt, too angry) and driving people away, without really getting it.
His therapist advises something I loved, because it's something I've realized too:
* * *"You have to have a strategy"* * * he says
(for when you get into deep waters socially, for when you recognize difficult feelings rising up).
In the post-Hobbit scenario, you used one of the most skilled strategies:
You asked a great follow-up question!
I'm interested in interviewing skills, and one of the best interview questions I've heard is something Bill Moyers says all the time:
"Can you say more about that?"
I've been living with a 20-year-old for the past year and a half (so, yeah, now she's 21) so I'm a kind of foster-parent, as well as a friend---
--she's neuro-normal, but one of the things I've noticed is how raw and unpracticed she is in social situations: she leaps in, flounders and freezes, lurches out...
I've tried to help her develop some scripts--
-they're like having an imaginary pack of index cards with handy-dandy cheater lines on them in your back pocket--
because that's something I still use in social situations
(even tho I'm pretty good, at 51, at winging it---sounds like you have more skills than maybe you credit yourself for too?).
I think the idea of putting together a tool box of skills, scripts, strategies, whatever, is maybe a nice way of looking at the challenge
(rather than thinking anyone needs to change who/how they are "inside"...)?
Anyway--HAPPY NEW YEAR!
As Z pointed out the girl herself was unable to engage, probably went away smarting that she'd not been as successful as she might have. And in many settings, talking enthusiastically about the excellence of computer graphics would be far safer than getting intense about political and historical allegory! (She's got an interesting point, though, I'd never thought of that; I wonder if she thought of it herself or read it somewhere?)
But bless Donovan for engaging; pulling in horns, taking refuge in irony and evasion, can too easily become a destructive habit for those that can do it, and it's kind of sad, and often seems to me to further an atmosphere of mistrust. Better to take the risk, sometimes anyway. I know the difference with him is it's how he is naturally, not a considered choice, but that may indeed be one of the very good things the world would be poorer without.
That's a very sweet photo.
I think Avus/Thoreau comes closest to what I would like to say. (Having said that I know I'm going to wish that I hadn't passed this comment.)
I remember when I was undergoing personality testing, and discovered that I was extremely introvert, I found an enormous relief that there was nothing wrong with me. Instead of trying to emulate all those b----y extroverts, which I had done for years (with the accompanying failure) I could finally be myself.
The problem with too many extroverts is that they think there's something wrong with us. Unfortunately, too many of us try to march to their drum. That is a real problem with "western" civilisation.
So be yourself, with all your quirks and value what you are. God forbid we should all be the same.
That was a really interesting post. I think we do learn to 'wing' it the older we get. People assume I am an extravert but not so. In fact, quite the opposite. I love being on my own doing my own thing. However, my employment has forced me to play a different role. And I do think I am 'playing' when I have to be in social situations. It does not come easily to me as say others in my family who crave social situations. I force myself to participate and no-one would have a clue that I am dying inside a lot of the time and could quite easily run away.
The older I get, the more I realise that many people feel the exact same way. We are so hard on ourselves sometimes for absolutely no reason.
It must be hard to watch your grandson in these type of situations but good on him for trying to engage with the other group. You must and will be a great support for him too.
If we were all the same how boring a world would we live in.
And I also agree with another commenter. You are an excellent writer. You can express yourself brilliantly and are very self aware.
That is also a lovely picture of you and your grandson. I bet he is a handsome young man too.
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