Right, but it seems that most people that aren't laymen (let's call them standmen, just for the fun of it) realise that this is often not the case.
I found this out through a very little of my own research. I wanted to understand why I react in certain ways to certain things, and how what happens inside me can possibly match up with my diagnosis. (Resisting the temptation to rant here about the need for educating people - myself included - beyond the decades-old stereotypes...)
I had made a few observations about myself:
- I get really upset by sad things happening in films. More detail on this later.
- I hate to watch or think about violence. I don't understand why anybody would want to. Somebody is hurt by it and it's horrible.
- Someone can tell me about something terrible and I won't really react inside or out, yet I can be in floods of tears just reading about something vaguely emotional, never mind it happening in an audio-visual format.
- People throughout my life have commented that I don't seem to care about things, but these are actually the very things that strike me to the core.
- If something is important to me, I probably can't look at the person and talk about it at the same time.
- I think I am quite good at sensing people's emotions and I often know what is going on when two people misunderstand one another.
- It takes me a long time to recover from strong emotions, and they have a physical effect on me.
In summary, I definitely have empathy. In fact I feel like I sort of absorb the emotional atmosphere of a room or interaction as soon as I enter, or very shortly afterwards. It can be quite powerful: if there is tension or unpleasantness it makes me feel physically sick - for quite a time afterwards I often can't eat. If I come across somebody sad I want to help them.
But I thought people with autism aren't supposed to have empathy.
| If I really care about something I might look like this, only less glamorous. |
If I haven't waffled you to death with rambling yet, I have included below an account of the occasion that got me to thinking about this and the research theory I then came upon which made so much sense to me. Maybe they will help shed some light for somebody.
Finally, as this has been a post trying to collect a lot of partly-formed thoughts, it would really help me if readers ask any questions they have about any part of it: my experience, my thoughts, links to the research I found, basically anything I've missed out that would help to explain to somebody who doesn't have the same insides as me.
| Probably more like this. I promise I care inside. So much it hurts. |
The particular incident that got me thinking this time came watching the film Ghost. Now, when watching or reading, let's say 'experiencing' something emotive I tend to go one way or the other. In public or a place where I'm not relaxed, I shut off that part of it entirely. I refuse to get involved. I think about other things when it gets dangerous and distract myself. It's safer not to go there.
But this particular day I was snuggled on the sofa with my husband, very safe and had been told the film was romantic. I was prepared for a bit of pulling at the heartstrings and some happy tears (I know I get far too involved if I don't choose to switch it off!). I ended up being completely drawn in and was (silently) sobbing my heart out by the end. It was just so sad. It's making me sad now, just thinking about it. And afterwards, I jumped up and took the dishes off to wash up and went to the toilet until I could talk without a quiver in my voice, hoping that Mr Peggy hadn't figured out what was going on.
I went back to sit with him, somewhat quieter than usual, but able to reply to him. I sat close - I needed touch to comfort me - but after a while I realised I wasn't looking at him. Slowly we started to talk about unrelated things, practical things or funny things and gradually it began to wear off. Later on I could look at him, then later still his face. It was only after a long time I could look into his eyes.
I've half noticed this effect before but never until after the event and I've never paid attention to it, but this time, I somehow registered the progression of what I could do. I'm not sure whether I completely did at the time or if it was afterwards, but it's since happened with another situation I was very upset about and I tracked it through the same stages.
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I did some reading about autism and emotion and empathy and things, because my experience didn't seem to add up with my idea of autistic people's emotional life. What I came across was the Intense World Theory. The name sounds a bit sci-fi and I don't know how widely accepted it is, but it made a whole lot of sense of my life.
It sort of turns the traditional physiological explanations of autism on their head: instead of 'deficiencies' causing all the recognised difficulties, the theory proposes that parts of the brain are 'hyper-functional' (I think I might do a separate post on this!), and one thing this can lead to is 'hyper-emotionality.'
Basically, this can be people experiencing so much of emotions that it's too much to deal with. Then we get the shutting-off, which looks to outsiders like we don't care. Or if we don't completely shut off, we have to reduce the stimuli - eg. looking at 'safe' things, not faces or eyes, which are much more intense and fill up my brain.
The theory doesn't explain all of my questions and thoughts, but it throws a whole lot of light on my experiences of life. I'll look at some other aspects next time.
The theory doesn't explain all of my questions and thoughts, but it throws a whole lot of light on my experiences of life. I'll look at some other aspects next time.
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