My name is Raquel, I have Asperger’s/ASD and I find it difficult to distinguish between different facial expressions.
I can’t tell whether you’re happy or really sad.
I was always a bit of an oddball. At school, my classmates would lock me in the toilet for hours or throw water balloons at me until I was soaked for the rest of the day. I took it in my stride, as if it were just part of the routine, and deep down I admired them and wanted to be like them. I watched them all day long. I felt I was different, so I studied them closely so I could copy them. I took notes and then, at home, I rehearsed as if it were a play… but I never managed to be like them.
Over time, I began to withdraw into my own world, and when people asked me questions, I’d give disjointed answers. The bullying continued and got worse. I withdrew even further into myself and became obsessed with the planets – the planets of the solar system and beyond. I knew everything about them: their masses, diameters, colours… By the age of ten, I’d become a planet expert.
When I finished school, the problems only got worse. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was (and still am) unable to read people’s expressions. I couldn’t tell the difference between a happy face and a sad one. People would tell me things and I couldn’t tell if they were telling me to have a laugh or so I could give them a hug. I didn’t know what sarcasm or irony were and, of course, I didn’t understand jokes because I didn’t realise they were jokes. I could only recognise extreme expressions, but when something is extreme, it’s usually too late to fix it.
All this was causing me a lot of trouble, so I carried on observing, taking notes and practising.
I would look at the position of their eyebrows and copy the way they arched. Raised eyebrows mean surprise. Lowered ones mean anger… I also studied the position of their hands, how close they stood when speaking, their tone of voice, and the volume of their speech. Everyone else seemed to manage it without any trouble, without even realising it, but I had to make an effort and learn. I had to copy them. I knew something was wrong with me, but I didn’t know what… I never told anyone about my rehearsals. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. I just wanted to be a normal person.
When I was eighteen, I began studying Social Education. After completing my degree, I studied to become an English teacher, followed by educational psychology and a master’s degree in special needs education. In a way, I was trying to find the answer to what was happening to me through my studies. Why was I different from everyone else? The answer came then, when I was already forty.
At the time, I was working as a teacher and my own colleagues were bullying me (lacking trust and understanding). I was still an oddball and they, despite being teachers, weren’t up to the task. I was terribly unhappy and fell into a depression. The diagnosis, as I said, came just then: after some tests, the doctors told me I had Asperger’s Syndrome. It isn’t easy to be diagnosed at forty and come to terms with the result. At last I understood what was happening to me, but that didn’t help me solve it. Quite the opposite: knowing that I had this Asperger’s Syndrome / ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) / ASC (Autism Spectrum Condition) / High-functioning autism / Mild ASD made me think that my problem had no solution, that I would still not understand people, that I would still not fit in and that, well… that I would remain alone for the rest of my life.
This concern led me back to theory. Just as I had once been obsessed with the planets, I began to become obsessed with Asperger’s and autism. Around that time, I discovered that one of the characteristics of people with Asperger’s is precisely that: a focus on a single subject. Without realising it, I read everything I could get my hands on about Asperger’s syndrome and, little by little, I became an expert. I myself was also a source of information and perspective. And suddenly, one day, I found myself explaining what autism was to someone who didn’t know. My explanation was comprehensive, scientific and personal. My explanation drew on subjectivity, and that made it simpler, yet at the same time richer. When the person listening to me left, I thought I had to do it again…
And I did.
Since then, I’ve been giving talks and classes on autism to dozens of people. In libraries, community centres and schools; to the families of people with autism, to people with autism, to everyone. Society needs to know that we exist. It needs to understand what we’re going through so it stops seeing us as those oddballs who are always on their own. In my talks, I can no longer discuss people with Asperger’s/ASD purely from a theoretical perspective. I can assure you that it is incredibly difficult to have to switch from the third person plural (they) to the first person singular (I).
People with autism want the chance to be happy too. Some of us can’t tell whether you’re sad or happy, but we feel emotions just like everyone else.
I have Asperger’s and I draw on my own experience to help others. I’ve become an advocate for raising awareness… and I’m happy doing this.
Raquel Montllor
raquelmontllorlinares.wordpress.com