Two-Stepping
in a Waltz World
How best to describe the effect
Asperger’s has had on my life? Much like the blind men describing an elephant. You have
to rely on my observations, such as they are.
Since I was born, I knew I was different, that I didn’t fit
in anywhere. Such has been, and shall be, the case until I die.
Have you ever seen a person who has no sense of rhythm try to
dance? Or heard a person with no musicality try to play? That, in a phrase, sums up
Asperger’s—while everyone else is trying to dance the waltz, I’m dancing the
two-step, and damned if I know why, but I’m always out of step.
Try as I might, I cannot do “the social dance,” and I am
stuck out of step, and out of place, wherever I go.
Perhaps, then, it is time I do my own dance.
Though I would wish otherwise, I will always be alone. I have
grown used to this fact. So, strike up the band…and let the dance begin in earnest.
John Brine, writing November 10, 1998
So began John’s first offering—his first attempt, at my
request, to communicate with us through writing about his life. From my experiences with
John, I knew it would differ from our observations, and I wanted to try to see life
through his eyes. It is only fitting that our combined effort should begin with his words,
for this is his story.
***
It’s only recently that I’ve been diagnosed with
Asperger’s Syndrome. All my life I’ve been different, and out of step with everyone
else. I’m sure it must have been sheer hell trying to raise me, because it’s been no
picnic growing up, let me assure you of that.
John, writing December 21, 1998
John has always
enjoyed words. As soon as he could read, which was well before he went to school, he was
immersed in dictionaries and encyclopedias as well as fiction and textbooks—anything in
print. He found a lot of that in our house, which is book-centered. I wondered if an
expression of his thoughts, feelings, and experiences could help others in the same boat.
Would it help them to know about the struggles of other parents, their mistakes and
successes?
Would we understand John better if he could write about
things we hadn’t managed to talk about, and would it be good therapy for him? Would it
help to answer the question he put to me after a particularly uninteresting bit of
volunteer work:
“Is this all there is in life for me?”
I didn’t want to say yes in answer to John’s question. We wanted to help him
search for ways to enrich his life, to find meaning and purpose, to set goals, and achieve
his desire to be working at a paying job. But would we ever find a way?
Read
the sequel: It's the Only Dance I Know
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