Navigating a Chaotic World as an Asperger

 

(In the image: me when I was around my 50s)

In a world where the common currency is small talk and fleeting, usually quite superficial, conversation, those like me, who are an Asperger, can be totally exhausted just by being among the others. Besides I feel this harsh contrast especially here, in Italy, where social life is the core of people’s existence (about me discovering being an Asperger here).

Italians are warm, including people, in the meaning they like to include you in their life. But what if you don’t want to be included, or if you simply can’t be included? For the feeling of suffocating and also – or mainly – because you are unable to grasp the unwritten rules.

Engaging in casual, unstructured chat, in my within, it feels utterly pointless and even painful. The need to decipher nonverbal clues, interpret hidden meanings, and maintain a warm or intense eye contact, to show amusement or interest where there is none, while simultaneously trying to formulate a relevant response…

Perhaps you don’t know, but if you saw the Godfather you got an idea. Italy, the souther the stronger, is based on hidden nonverbal language. A subtle gesture, a look in certain way, a word that officially means something but instead it is used for something totally different! Believe me, it makes you crazy!

In the north of Europe I never had such experiences. I am punctual, I mean what I say, I am reliable, I am a deep person with deep thoughts and agile synapses, I don’t speak just for fun, unless I feel comfortable enough to give space to my sense of humour (which, again, is not very Italian at all, so people end up staring at me in even a slight discomfort!).

As you can imagine, being like that, here in Italy it is a real challenge. And during the four or five years I spent in central Italy, I went through a complete nightmare. A literally spectacular breathtaking place but their mentality: unbearable!
Perhaps, if I only had known at that time about my “problem” I wouldn’t have tried so hard to adapt to customs that for me are simply totally inappropriate and unthinkable!

In all my life I tried to adapt, and I also managed quite well. I can talk about everything, even the most superficial matters. Yes, I can, although they drain tremendously. But in central Italy the price was too high and I couldn’t mask things to such an extent where I was supposed to take as normal, when for me were unacceptable.

Besides, another big problem was that, being also an Italian, the people, the Italians, obviously, expect me to know all the hidden non verbal communication. They can’t know I am an Asperger (as I didn’t know). And not only that. I am also the granddaughter of a political exile.

(In the image my grandfather at the end of his university years) 

When something like that happens your life stops being Italian. Migrants leaving their country, keep it in their heart. Often traditions becomes even stronger. But when someone is exiled: you have been betrayed by your country. A sharp cut is made between you and your country and you float in the world, as my grandfather did with his growing family, among which my father.
His children, eight in total, were born in Africa, where they stayed the most, but also in Australia and Brazil.
The girls had a French education, the boys a British one.

My grandfather was an architect so he could always find good jobs. But his bitterness grew more and more. At the end he was recluded in a psychiatric asylum where he died.

The family at that time was in Cairo, and remained there until the war broke out, then they had to leave, as Egypt was a British protectorat. (I wrote something about it in this post here.)

They came back to Italy, where they – the children – never were before! They came to Milan, and they found it awful. A part from the war, which of course made things even worse, but having lived traveling around the world, Italy was not at all home for them. They were aliens.

What about me? I traveled a lot, studied abroad, lived abroad, I am also a Swiss citizen and Switzerland has been more home than Italy for me.

In a twist of fate, in which I fell, I eventually ended up staying here. The north of Italy is more home now, and it is quite pleasant. Switzerland and Germany and England, the places I have been more intensely connected to, are fading. And honestly I’m floating in a limbo. But it is fine. At least I am not horrified as I was when living in central Italy.

I am trying to adjust my being Asperger in order to honour my diversity and at the same time trying to get along with the world around me. I am trying to find a balance in a life that has been insanely chaotic.