To add to my string of recent falls, I took yet another tumble down some of the stairs yesterday. Thankfully this time, I didn’t cause much bodily harm although I did crack my cellphone screen. Of course, this is certainly a better trade in many ways, I found myself being just as upset, if not more so. I know that people talk about technology addictions, especially in terms of some people’s attachments to their cellphone, and I’m probably in that camp of people. I can’t really surmise why most people become obsessed because frankly, I don’t have any friends who are to ask. My husband still uses a flip phone and no one else’s phone in my family seems to be a permanent extension on their hand like it is in my case. For me, my phone is my world. It is my way to connect to other people and, in its own right, it is my friend. Since I work at a home office and have no local friends, it is the only vehicle through which I communicate with people and the outside world. I know this is abnormal and unhealthy, but it is my reality. My phone is my anti-anxiety medication; when I don’t feel well, I remind myself of the outline of my phone in my pocket and I feel assured that I can get help if I need it. When I was attacked, as soon as he grabbed me from behind and threw me to the ground, he ripped my phone out of my hand and flung it across the room. When he silenced me, I had no means to communicate that I needed help except silent prayer in my mind. Four days after the attack, I was in separable from my cell phone. My hand was constantly on it, even when it was in my pocket, under my pillow, or in the bathroom.
This phone has been with me for nearly three years, which, given my carelessness, propensity to fall or damage things, and its constant use, is remarkable. Maybe it is the length and depth of this “relationship” that, ashamedly, makes me mourn the breaking of this device.
I am fully aware that phone is not a real friend, and to even remotely consider it as such is quite pathetic. I want to connect with people. I want to have more friends. I’d love to have someone who called me to meet up and hang out. This is a process though and an arduous and unnatural one (for me) at that. For now, I have a handful of good friends that I text or call daily. These people, for the most part, inhabit fragments of my “old” lives: times when I was surrounded by more people, forced to be more social because of work or habitat, or was less encumbered by physical and mental obstacles. (Chronic disease and my near inability to drive certainly hampers my ability to participate in normal social events.) These people have hung with me through changes, challenges, and miscommunications. They have allowed me to grow as a friend and they have ridden out the bumps I’ve made as I’ve learned to be a better friend. I am blessed to have a place in their hearts and I honor and nurture the prominent residence they have in mine.
I am a member of several online support groups for adults on the spectrum. I connect with these virtual friends through my phone. If people were mapped in Venn diagram, the overlapped regions are inherently much larger between my circle and the circles representing many of the other group members than my circle and many neurotypical peers whom I want to befriend.
Like sharing a common culture, language, or customs, I’m more closely “related” to other spectrum-dwelling adults in many ways, and the reciprocity of understanding one another is both easier and more expansive than between me and a typical people of “normal” neurology. Although I am so glad to have access to an artistic community thanks to technological and communicative advancements provided by the Internet, I can’t help but be honest and admit that I’d still really like friends in the flesh who I actually spend time with. Their neurology is unimportant to me as long as they are good people. Even though an autism diagnosis is much more common these days than even twenty years ago, obviously, the majority of the general population is not on the spectrum so it’s more likely to find neurotypical friends. I need to be able to bridge the gap between these two worlds. While I have done this successfully before, it takes time and effort (and compassion and patience of the other party’s part!).
Far and above the challenges posed by my social, emotional, and physical problems, I believe the biggest hurdle to clear making friends is the schedule I keep. Essentially, it’s like that of a shift worker, working second shift. Even for those social butterflies who keep such a schedule, finding friends and participating in social activities is nearly impossible, especially if you don’t live in the city and are isolated in a small town. New York City may be the city that never sleeps but western Mass, although wonderful in many ways, gets plenty of sleep. My body operates on asynchronously with most other people. I’m up before 3am and done for the day around 5pm. I’ve tried coercing it into a more “normal” routine, but that just wreaks havoc on every physical and mental process. Even with Benadryl and nights of not falling asleep, I cannot sleep past 4am. I can then try to remain in as much of a sensory-depriving environment as logistically feasible to keep my overload below threshold, but even so, it’s virtually impossible to have the physical and mental stamina to persist past 6pm before I must be prostrate to the couch with no movement or talking. My brain runs nonstop in high-gear all day and I have yet to tame her incessant work; I can consider and effectively work on many things at one time, but then I run out of legs for the end of the race. I’m a relay of runners who ran their lap together around the track at full speed instead of passing the baton for each individual leg. I’m embarrassingly exhaustible; I’m a racecar on full throttle with no brakes. All this is to say, when most people head out the door for their morning commute, I’ve already put in four or five hours of work, and when almost everyone is clocking out for the day and are finally available to hang out, I’m crawling into bed or nearly comatose on the couch. The only groups of people I seem to overlap with are stay-at-home parents, the elderly or retired). My small town seems to lack any sort of daytime programming or activities for anyone outside of the aforementioned groups, and truth be told, I’m working most of the day anyway, even if I do have some scheduling flexibility. Despite this scheduling incompatibility, I keep looking and hoping to find some venue to meet in person and cultivate friendships. It’s easy to resign my socially-avoidant self to ongoing isolation and fall prey to a myriad of excuses, but I’m actually rather disciplined in researching options, trying to get out there, and simply recognizing the obstacles for the purpose of strategically mounting an effective offense rather than ceding to their debility. At the end of the day, I need to respect my deal breakers (in terms of my work scheduling obligations and energy needs) but compromise on every possible manipulatable variable to try to make it work. My mom always says I find these really interesting opportunities and I do because I’m willing to cast a really wide net; you never know what will pan out so it can only be fortuitous to keep an open mind and religiously seek opportunities for whatever it is you desire.
I am grateful that I live in a time of interconnectedness and communities engaged through technology. In many ways, the Internet has made the world smaller by forging bonds across great distances. My remote friends and online social support network keep me from being entirely marginalized and allow me to hone my relationship skills and understand myself better and more compassionately. It somewhat removes the “freak” or “loner” label that I’d otherwise tattoo onto myself (instead it’s just a removable sticker). Perhaps I’m too addicted to my phone and I recognize that it’s far healthier to have in vivo friendships, but for where I am now in my life, it’s an indispensable tool and companion, a device that teaches me, alleviates my anxiety, and connects me to others and my world. I hope my new one further guides me to forge friendships and that more of the “lifetime minutes” for calls sent and received are occupied by quick conversations to establish plans with others, then it will navigate me to the meetup and get stowed in my pocket while I make new memories with new friends.