I ruined Thanksgiving.

[GabrielFlood]

There are forty minutes left of my Thanksgiving, and I get to spend them the same way I've spent the last six hours of it: knowing that I ruined it with what I now, after reading a few adult Asperger's entries and the comments below them, recognize as a full-on adult aspie meltdown. I am 31 years old, and today I called my father whom I love a "son of a *****" in the car on the way home from the restaurant where we were going to have our holiday dinner together.

I've only known about having autism for less than a year now, and I've held the mistaken assumption that since I have only lost control fully and screamed in public one time (back in high school), I just wasn't the sort prone to meltdowns. I was proud of this. But then I read... this...

Now I understand. I've had dozens and dozens of meltdowns. Maybe a hundred, over three decades. I am not better. I am not -lucky-. I am not immune to the worst of it, despite having what I still consider to be a pretty mild (or "extremely high-functioning", if you prefer the looking-to-the-positive perception angle) case of autism.

We went to see a movie (Interstellar, which was amazing), and I was turning it over hyper-rapidly in my head as I do, utterly and completely looking forward to getting to talk out a selected half a hundred of those thoughts with the two people who've cared for me the most dearly and self-sacrificingly over this past year even as many others turned on me and hated me (it's a long story; suffice it to say I did not come to knowledge of my condition painlessly or without catalyst events). And with my head too full of all that (too deep inside, as I am prone to), I realized only upon approach to the PACKED restaurant that I was not prepared, that I'd been a fool, that I wasn't going to be able to withstand the people anxiety in that place. So I said so, as I've been told was okay over this past year. As I had come to believe was okay.

But then something I didn't expect or understand at all happened. My father was angry with me. My suggestion that we could eat at home (but all we had in quantity was breakfast foods; I dismissed the idea even as I suggested it aloud), and distracted logical observation that the other suggested restaurant would very probably be exactly as packed... all of a sudden my father was back in the car and we were heading home (he said to my mother right in front of me "We can drop HIM off, and go and actually have and enjoy our Thanksgiving dinner"), and he was angrily telling me that the world wasn't about me, and that shooting down the original idea and the other restaurant suggestion were evidence of how selfish I was (or was being, I wasn't clear on which; I was caught completely by surprise and terrified), and I couldn't even control it or help it, my threat responses roared to life with klaxons blaring and I was screaming that I didn't understand how this had happened and that it wasn't right, I didn't mean to ruin it, I didn't understand. And he told me I had to "sack the hell up" and deal with it sometimes, and to think about my mother (who was saying nothing, which is normal in the midst of conflict situations), and I realized in that moment that he didn't understand and didn't care to so nobody was going to be able to help ME understand and I identified him as a threat and I called him a "son of a *****".

My grandmother is a lovely lady. I know she isn't a *****. I should never have said that. My Dad isn't my enemy. I know that, too. But in the moment, being told I was a bad person for having been honest about my limitations carelessly and without forethought or taking full responsibility for pre-emptive prevention activated my entire arsenal of defenses at once, and I was furious with him for threatening me so. He isn't supposed to ever be the one making me feel that way. That honor goes to John. Q. Anybody out in the real world unavoidably from time to time, or to my brother, or to... a few others.

My father's been having a really rough time lately, with a lot of things. Some personal I've observed, but not been invited or asked to speak on. Stressful pressure on at work. And something dark and private he's battling on his own, that I am aware of but powerless to address because I'm not even supposed to be aware of it (but I have aspie hyperception, and I'm nearly always aware of something I shouldn't have to sense or see or know). I think he really needed this holiday to just go... smoothly. To just work, and be simple, and be wholesome and good and rewarding and affirming even if it was just the three of us. And I was the reason it didn't.

Because of the way I am.

He isn't a bad person, I assure you. My father is a beautiful, caring man who tries his hardest to help the people he loves. Who has proven a thousand times how much he loves me, with action and loss and sacrifice. Who tried to give me a Thanksgiving dinner anyway even though most of the rest of my family would never accept me at their tables this year because of mistakes I made for reasons I didn't understand (at the time). But he couldn't understand me today, and I think the combination of my interfering with the holiday's smooth execution, coupled with not understanding me in that moment, broke a dam in him. Which then crushed me in a torrent of burstflow.

How on earth do I tell that man that I could never have meant what I called him? How does an aspie make something like this right?

I've been sitting here in the dark, alone, for six hours while they went to dinner (I told them to go without me, once we'd gotten home and spent thirty minutes cooling down; it was the logical decision, as there was no conceivable scenario wherein we could resolve anything in short form nor would I be able to function as a pretend-human amongst a crowd directly after a full meltdown event). ...I know I'm not a bad, selfish person. I know I couldn't help it, that I had damned myself to that limitation event the moment I failed to prepare my mind for a crowded restaurant during the last thirty minutes or so of that movie (I'm not at all sure if I could even do that within a movie theater; I certainly would have been far less aware of those thirty minutes of film if I had, and basically zoned out and missed the ending).

I don't want to hate myself. I've fought so hard, crawled so far seeking redemption for my various mistakes, and stood alone against these shadows so many times. I survived cancer last year, too. I've fought really, really hard to survive, and I am damaged and bleeding still in some places because of it, and I've never let myself succumb to real, total self-hatred. I don't want to start now.

But now my father must think I hate and disrespect -him-, and I don't know what I can even do. I don't know anything. I'm so afraid that events may reveal once and for all that my own father is one of the people who will only interface with me if I have my Social Armor on, and shined flawlessly, and functioning well. That he can't accept me as I am, even though he wants to so badly and has tried as best he can to for ten straight months now (filled with terrible trials and burdens and stresses of his own, of deeply personal nature).

I never know anything, not when it matters. I always end up hurting someone. I'm so lost all over again, and in the dark right now.

 

[Judge]

A bit painful to read all that. Mostly because I went through it myself once. My last real meltdown cost me my significant other. I lost it, and said things I never should have said. It happens. I ruined someone's Christmas once, as well as a relationship.

However at the time I had no idea I was autistic, and neither did she. I was never able to explain beyond thinking very lowly of myself.

Yet you have self-awareness. You have the possibility of recognizing why you may have said what you said. There are traits and behaviors that we might be able to work on, and others that are hard-wired inside us that we must simply live with for better or worse.

The challenge that remains is in being able to explain it to others close to you, recognizing that they may or may not completely understand. All you can do is try...and be true to yourself.

 

[Ylva]

How on earth do I tell that man that I could never have meant what I called him? How does an aspie make something like this right?

Just apologise. I'm sure he'll tell you that he is sad, too.

I'm so afraid that events may reveal once and for all that my own father is one of the people who will only interface with me if I have my Social Armor on, and shined flawlessly, and functioning well.

As am I with my parents, even though they do not reject my NT siblings over things like that. Parents in general often appear to believe that shouting solves something.

Also, stop calling yourself a "pretend human". It's not for neurotypicals or anyone else to decide what qualifies one as human.

 

[Grumpy Cat]

There are forty minutes left of my Thanksgiving, and I get to spend them the same way I've spent the last six hours of it: knowing that I ruined it with what I now, after reading a few adult Asperger's entries and the comments below them, recognize as a full-on adult aspie meltdown. I am 31 years old, and today I called my father whom I love a "son of a *****" in the car on the way home from the restaurant where we were going to have our holiday dinner together.

I've only known about having autism for less than a year now, and I've held the mistaken assumption that since I have only lost control fully and screamed in public one time (back in high school), I just wasn't the sort prone to meltdowns. I was proud of this. But then I read... this...

Now I understand. I've had dozens and dozens of meltdowns. Maybe a hundred, over three decades. I am not better. I am not -lucky-. I am not immune to the worst of it, despite having what I still consider to be a pretty mild (or "extremely high-functioning", if you prefer the looking-to-the-positive perception angle) case of autism.

We went to see a movie (Interstellar, which was amazing), and I was turning it over hyper-rapidly in my head as I do, utterly and completely looking forward to getting to talk out a selected half a hundred of those thoughts with the two people who've cared for me the most dearly and self-sacrificingly over this past year even as many others turned on me and hated me (it's a long story; suffice it to say I did not come to knowledge of my condition painlessly or without catalyst events). And with my head too full of all that (too deep inside, as I am prone to), I realized only upon approach to the PACKED restaurant that I was not prepared, that I'd been a fool, that I wasn't going to be able to withstand the people anxiety in that place. So I said so, as I've been told was okay over this past year. As I had come to believe was okay.

But then something I didn't expect or understand at all happened. My father was angry with me. My suggestion that we could eat at home (but all we had in quantity was breakfast foods; I dismissed the idea even as I suggested it aloud), and distracted logical observation that the other suggested restaurant would very probably be exactly as packed... all of a sudden my father was back in the car and we were heading home (he said to my mother right in front of me "We can drop HIM off, and go and actually have and enjoy our Thanksgiving dinner"), and he was angrily telling me that the world wasn't about me, and that shooting down the original idea and the other restaurant suggestion were evidence of how selfish I was (or was being, I wasn't clear on which; I was caught completely by surprise and terrified), and I couldn't even control it or help it, my threat responses roared to life with klaxons blaring and I was screaming that I didn't understand how this had happened and that it wasn't right, I didn't mean to ruin it, I didn't understand. And he told me I had to "sack the hell up" and deal with it sometimes, and to think about my mother (who was saying nothing, which is normal in the midst of conflict situations), and I realized in that moment that he didn't understand and didn't care to so nobody was going to be able to help ME understand and I identified him as a threat and I called him a "son of a *****".

My grandmother is a lovely lady. I know she isn't a *****. I should never have said that. My Dad isn't my enemy. I know that, too. But in the moment, being told I was a bad person for having been honest about my limitations carelessly and without forethought or taking full responsibility for pre-emptive prevention activated my entire arsenal of defenses at once, and I was furious with him for threatening me so. He isn't supposed to ever be the one making me feel that way. That honor goes to John. Q. Anybody out in the real world unavoidably from time to time, or to my brother, or to... a few others.

My father's been having a really rough time lately, with a lot of things. Some personal I've observed, but not been invited or asked to speak on. Stressful pressure on at work. And something dark and private he's battling on his own, that I am aware of but powerless to address because I'm not even supposed to be aware of it (but I have aspie hyperception, and I'm nearly always aware of something I shouldn't have to sense or see or know). I think he really needed this holiday to just go... smoothly. To just work, and be simple, and be wholesome and good and rewarding and affirming even if it was just the three of us. And I was the reason it didn't.

Because of the way I am.

He isn't a bad person, I assure you. My father is a beautiful, caring man who tries his hardest to help the people he loves. Who has proven a thousand times how much he loves me, with action and loss and sacrifice. Who tried to give me a Thanksgiving dinner anyway even though most of the rest of my family would never accept me at their tables this year because of mistakes I made for reasons I didn't understand (at the time). But he couldn't understand me today, and I think the combination of my interfering with the holiday's smooth execution, coupled with not understanding me in that moment, broke a dam in him. Which then crushed me in a torrent of burstflow.

How on earth do I tell that man that I could never have meant what I called him? How does an aspie make something like this right?

I've been sitting here in the dark, alone, for six hours while they went to dinner (I told them to go without me, once we'd gotten home and spent thirty minutes cooling down; it was the logical decision, as there was no conceivable scenario wherein we could resolve anything in short form nor would I be able to function as a pretend-human amongst a crowd directly after a full meltdown event). ...I know I'm not a bad, selfish person. I know I couldn't help it, that I had damned myself to that limitation event the moment I failed to prepare my mind for a crowded restaurant during the last thirty minutes or so of that movie (I'm not at all sure if I could even do that within a movie theater; I certainly would have been far less aware of those thirty minutes of film if I had, and basically zoned out and missed the ending).

I don't want to hate myself. I've fought so hard, crawled so far seeking redemption for my various mistakes, and stood alone against these shadows so many times. I survived cancer last year, too. I've fought really, really hard to survive, and I am damaged and bleeding still in some places because of it, and I've never let myself succumb to real, total self-hatred. I don't want to start now.

But now my father must think I hate and disrespect -him-, and I don't know what I can even do. I don't know anything. I'm so afraid that events may reveal once and for all that my own father is one of the people who will only interface with me if I have my Social Armor on, and shined flawlessly, and functioning well. That he can't accept me as I am, even though he wants to so badly and has tried as best he can to for ten straight months now (filled with terrible trials and burdens and stresses of his own, of deeply personal nature).

I never know anything, not when it matters. I always end up hurting someone. I'm so lost all over again, and in the dark right now.

Let your Pa read what you wrote here. I'm NT and I don't know if he is, but I bet he would understand how you're feeling just from reading this. Aspies can write their feelings better than speak them. Try that. Maybe at the end write: I am sorry Dad.

 

[Soup]

That was very thoroughly written out & you seemed quite fair to your father, as a person, as well as to yourself. Often times, when people recount painful events, they do so with a blatant bias against all other parties involved. You mitigated bias well.

With that in mind, I do NOT think the entire burden for ruining Thanksgiving should be on you. Plus ruining a holiday is the lesser problem: the relationship turmoil caused by the toxic interaction is the real problem. It sounds to me that your father, nice guy that he is, is going through a whole heck of a lot himself right now & he was 'touchy' & he overreacted. Every time an Aspie is involved in a conflict, Asperger's is NOT always at fault. EVERYONE gets into family snits & sometimes those turn really volatile as in ambulances & police involvement. This got verbally ugly, & that's about it.

All told, you do owe an apology & an explanation for your part in the conflict. Rather than calling (we tend to suck at phone calls). Get a blank card & a small gift. Write a nice note. send it to your father. Act fast: letting it fester will only make you feel worse & more uncertain. You BOTH behaved badly & your mother's unnecessary, biased comments didn't improve matters. This is unpleasant, but fixable. Eff Thanksgiving: work to repair the relationship. You can eat another turkey at Christmas.

 

[Warmheart]

It's really hard on us, when we hurt that we have hurt others. Plus, we feel misunderstood, because of behavior we cannot control-- even as we try to avoid meltdowns as best we can. When the brain isn't functioning optimally (wired differently), it is the same as if a liver, a pancreas, or a spleen is sick. Except, instead of jaundice or vomiting, we display behavioral symptoms that others misjudge us for. This is really hard.

Please let your Dad read your post. You are eloquent, honest, factual, and compassionate in your post. Dad, I think, would understand better if he read this. Good job on writing things so clearly.

Now you have some really good, useful information: You have ASD, are prone to meltdowns, and chaotic social situations can have a "last straw effect." Where you live, are you able to find an ASD specialist to help you streamline your life better? You did a wonderful job of explaining your stressors and reactions. I wish you some good support and guidance. As we learn to manage our ASD better, there is hope. I wish you strength and peace today.

 

[Ericho]

Wow, long story. I really do get along with my family well, simply because I always have lived with them. Do you still live with your dad? Maybe he's angry you haven't moved out yet.

 

[radasp]

I don't think it's helpful to beat yourself over the head about this; it is important to truly and finally accept that for autistic / Asperger individuals, some social events are not possible, especially holiday family get-togethers. You can bet that many neurotypical families had fights, angry words and even physical violence for Thanksgiving dinner. I got so tired of the weird dynamics and my bad reactions that I stopped spending holidays with family. It may seem a drastic solution, but I just never wanted to again endure a bad holiday. People who get along with their families are exceptional; others really have to work at it.

 

[AsheSkyler]

I've been reading and rereading this over the past few days, cringing each time. We all have our bad extra-autistic days that screw us over. Might be time to get together for a proverbial night of crying into a beer.

 

[Hedgehog Instigator]

I know these feels and I am sorry. You can apologize it's hard to do but you need to. In the future see if you can do dinner first, maybe put a back up plan in place (an alternative ride) communication is everything. I had an aspie melt down yesterday. I wanted to fall back on drumming, which would definitely screw up my days responsibilities. I instead took an anti anxiety med and pushed through. It's been nearly 30 years for me to get to a healthy place with my meltdowns, good luck to you <3