Sometimes it's a simple miscommunication that brings about a meltdown. Something as broad ranging as 'social disability' may, on certain days, not be triggered by two shouting people in the street, but by one ignorant person.
I can confidentially say I was doing the right thing. And a nice thing.
I can assert that this first month in a job that requires 3 hours of commuting and resisting the urge to bang on train windows where restless or jump down onto train tracks 'just to have a look' is incredibly difficult.
Today I got on the bus home, a First Bus. The 36, if you're interested. I got on with my C+ pass. It was on time and not crowded. This was good. Two stops on a young girl got on and said, '£1.50.'
The bus driver growled, 'There is no £1.50. You tell me where you're going.'
The girl replies, 'Right near X Street. I've just finished work and I get this route every day and they always charge me £1.50.'
Him: There's no button for £1.50 and I've been doing this job for 4 years.
Her: Can you check?
Him: Okay. Do you wanna put money on it?
Her: What?
Him: Do you wanna put money on it?
Her: Look, what is it?
Him: £1.60.
Her: Oh, right. I thought you were going to say loads more.
Him: It will be if you're going further.
Her: I'm not. I'm going just by X Street.
Him: Just get on already. But I'm warning you, you get off when I say.
The bus goes on. At a stop that is...somewhere, the driver stops and orders her off. She stands and goes to his little cubbyhole of misery
Her: But this isn't where I get off!
Him: You get off here because that's what you paid for.
They argue. I start feeling squirmy, hot-eyed, like I want to bite my hand. I have a ten pound note and a five pound note in my hand.
I get up and approach girl and driver. I hold out my bunched-up notes.
Me: Hi. How much more does she owe? I can -
Her: [To me] It's okay, cheers, I have the money, it's just -
Him: Just get off the bus. [To me] You, sit yourself down. [Points arm back down the bus] Now.
I recoil. His tone was direct, an order, threatening. Will he throw me off the bus in the rain?
I don't sit. I lean against the pole, clutching my money and hugging my bag. I feel scared. My brain is losing its filter rapidly and I run a conversation in my head. I will explain that I was doing a good thing, that he was rude and that he shouldn't have said that to me. He will understand because he is human.
At my stop I don't get off, but stand by his cubbyhole of misery.
Me: Look [shows him the two notes] I was trying to help by offering to pay any extra she needed.
Him: She had money. She already got an extra stop, that one.
Me: But you didn't need to order me away like that. That was rude.
Him: I told her to get off.
Me: No, you were rude and ordered me away, which is wrong. You shouldn't be rude. It's not nice.
Him: You were interfering.
Me: [Holds up bright blue AUTISM ALERT card] I have autism and I was trying to help. Why were you mean?
Him: You were interfering. We'll leave it there.
Me: But -
Him: Get off the bus.
I have a high-impact job. I deal with chaotic, vulnerable and yes, occasionally hostile people. And despite my facial expressions, I do give a shit. Today before I got on my train to work, I checked in with a homeless man who looked like he was going over and made sure to warn him to stay away from town in the afternoon in case it kicked off post-match and to also find out what had happened to the others tenting out. Answer: they were burned out.
I deal with the stresses of adult life and obsessions and rituals daily with a consistent lack of Theory Of Mind - I assume everyone thinks and approaches all situations as I do. Brain scans of autistic people even show a difference in brain make-up. Yet in my personal life, I cannot 'pass' so well. At work, I act a role and it exhausts me. Personally, I may be emotionally mature as the average 14-year old.
Does this explain why after getting off the bus this evening, I put my hood up and actually cried the short walk to my house. Why, when I walked in and The Fiancé asked what was wrong the first words out of my mouth were, 'I'm a stupid fucking autistic freak' and ran upstairs to hide. I am 31 years old.
Since my diagnosis I have never referred to myself in those terms.
This was not a serious incident. Not a major assault on my personality or physical self. No one threw excrement at me or kicked me or called me a retard. Yet the mismatch between my want to do a nice thing and then being insulted and then finding further insult when I disclosed my autism stung more than anything else has in many months.
The Fiancé put it in simpler terms.
'Maybe he was angry because he missed the match. Or perhaps he had to deal with lairy fans all day. Or, maybe, just maybe, he's just a total twatwaffle.'
POSTSCRIPT: The blue Autism Alert cards have so far proven utterly useless.
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