While I don't really watch television, I've been eagerly following NBC's multipart coverage of autism. This entry's Title was the first thing that came to mind before I started typing here today, and it's meant as a riff off of a fave Aphex Twin track which I used to listen to endlessly in years previously. So what I'm writing about is NOT pro- or anti-cure or anysuch thing, but merely my personal experiences in life, and to a lesser degree, Asperger's Syndrome — including how I have bettered myself through the ages and intend to continue doing so. If it is a cure, or at least a "cure-in-progress", it's one that solely applies to me. I'm sharing it in the hopes of expressing myself and maybe even hoping someone reading this can relate. This is gonna get bleak and emotional, but the light's at the end. I promise ya.
When I was a wee tot, I used to have these terrible meltdowns in the corners of rooms. There was a lot of internal processing that happened in my mind, things I wanted to express but couldn't effectively do so to others, and as a result, it got jammed — backed up further — in the hind regions of my brain. Ever see what happens in an assembly line when one stage of the process gets jammed up? Yeah. Even more hurtful was when I tried to share my ideas and had them rejected — sometimes by an authority figure such as a teacher who didn't understand what the heck I was going on about. And even worse, I would be disciplined and detained, something I see in hindsight as a real repression of my creativity. (But then again, who could have known better? Stuff happens.) I felt a lot of rejection and a lot of pain as a result of that. So, I threw tantrums, cried, and kept myself cautious of too much human contact. Negative experiences piled up on me, and I couldn't truely appreciate the positive occurrences when they did roll around.
In the years to come, I would get better in elementary and high school. My grades improved on an upward climb, and I made more friends, although I was still flinching and reclusive when it came to really getting to know someone. I had been soured on the ills of the past. I struggled a lot with self-control, and the nervous tics like thumping of my feet and shaking of my head didn't help. My parents, ever-so-loving but recognizing early on I displayed some extremely eccentric behaviors, did their best to accomodate me. My (meaning Torley "Sr.", Torley Wong — the offline me) Dad is dead, and has been since August of 2003. I would like to say we really understood each other, but honestly, we never did — it was a collision of two surreal worlds where we didn't really meet in the middle. However, we did have a few common interests: fixating over pro wrestling (where I would catalog and record signature moves), talking about and living values like honor and loyalty, and appreciating the simple things in life. It must have been hard for my Mom and Dad to want to be so close yet so distant in a way.
Still, there was magic. Looking back at all the investments Mother and Father made in me, and the faith they have, and in what they saw in me: potential to grow and be a better person. My little brother, Merritt aka Zephos, has gotten along with me surprisingly well. I don't talk to him much nowadays on a consistent basis, but when we do talk (more like "type on the computer" — he's one of the few I do really extended text-only chat with), it's extremely intense and saturated with good stuff. Still, despite the magic, I couldn't help but feel like something inside of me was so broken and wrong and needed to be fixed. I compared myself to others a lot, trying to be more like them, and in some respects have learned admirable qualities — moreso now than ever before — but in my my polarized youth, it came at the price of suppressing who I really was.
As a result, internally, I became hostile and bitter and had a lot of pent-up issues to deal with. Compounded with my history of not wanting to share openly because of the rejection I had experienced, I kept a lot of it to myself and I could literally feel the goodness deteriorate from within. I also didn't want to share because I was at a low point and didn't want others to judge me even harsher in addition to my quirky personality. It was kinda like I really wanted to reach out, but afraid of receiving a gigavolt shock every time something went wrong, with the zaps getting progressively worse with every failed attempt.
Then came the breakdown. Four or five years ago, I was superficially happy but wrong on the inside. A lot of self-denial and ill physical health only made this worse. I was looking for ways to say things but found myself limited when it came time to control my tools and transform my ideas into an extensible part of my reality that I could give to others. Other issues involving my personal relationships and a lot of miscommunication downed me, and sunk this battleship. So in a watermelon rind, it was my own personal hell. I think that's one of the reason why I became such a fan of horror movies like Hellraiser where the protagonist is trapped in some demonic dimension: I saw it as a metaphor applicable to myself. I was trapped in my mind, struggling to get out. I felt the progress I had made leading up to high school grad was nullified, and depressed, I spent too much time sleeping and crying and being generally negative.
Then came the rebuilding. I got sick of the downward spiral, the vicious cycle that was dragging me further into the depths, and wanted to break my chains and throw them off — even if it meant sacrificing some part of myself I thought I enjoyed but in actuality found sickening. I got more involved with my beloved career path of techno music, producing a vast number of tunes, some of which are on this very website. I was lauded, applauded, got happier again despite some critics (and there will always be critics) who strangely found the obvious idea of me combining repetitive beats with flowing melodies to be shocking. I put myself out here, the expression of myself through music central to the core of who I am.
And then came another breakdown. May 2004, hyperacusis?hit me. My ears went bad. Like a pro wrestler breaking his back or a bon vivant losing her sense of taste, my world as I knew it came to an end as things very much went silent again. I recluctantly put down my synthesizers, blogging about my decline in the months to come. I had spent nearly two decades dedicated to music in one way or another ever since my youth as a classical pianist, and now this. It hit me hard and I settled back into my corner, not knowing what else to do. Several months of reading cyberpunk novels and futurist literature and scouring the Internet for things to do left me with a lot of dreaming but little doing. I had high hopes. I figured, if I could rise up once before, I should be able to repeat that again. Long a believer in the tools of science, I do think quality should be reproducible. The experiment of my life.
A little temporal detour before we go back to the mainline: it was several years ago that I first heard of Asperger's Syndrome. Off the tail end of my nervous breakdown in approx. 2001 A.D., I had matured enough to do my own research into what sort of medical condition(s) I could possibly have. I frown on overzealous diagnoses, but I just felt guided. I knew something was up. Trawling through the so-called Information Superhighway, I dug up a lot of psychological information. I came to conclusions that this fit me like a glove, and some time onward, it still does. Apart from the diagnostic criteria, if you observe me living my day-to-day life, you too, will likely see why Asperger's applies to me so well. I make no pretentions, put up no false walls, and I certainly don't try to hide anymore: this is who I am. Also, I don't constrict myself to labels, and the terms may change in the future, but I know I have today and a way for me to describe myself, so I'm going to hold on to this dearly. I found solace in online communities like Aspergian Island and WrongPlanet, and while I no longer actively post to their forums, I do keep up-to-date with the news — like the NBC special. Many words followed, I poured out, and this was a constant thread that stood strongly for me and still does today.
June (a sad birthday)… July… August… September 2004. A month that will always be vital in my first life, because midway through it is when I joined Second Life. Things exponentially improved for me. Taking the skills I had learned prior and applying them passionately in a friendly and fun context, I became recognized (which is something that is still sooo odd to me!) as a social butterfly in this virtual existence, connecting with real people around the globe while exploring the digital depths of the gridverse. I made — and am still making — many new allies, I found myself in love with a wonderful person who will always be in my heart, and it's been absolutely life-changing. Now as Torley Torgeson (Torley Jr.) using the combined tools of my emotional technology, I have been able to unleash the veritable happiness that was sunken at the bottom of my mental waters, and in addition to being damn fun, Second Life provides me with a fantastic outlet for my creativity.
Again, I'm at a loss for words. But instead of being grumpy and frustrated about it, I am able to show myself in new and exciting — and crazy! — methods. Sometimes… there are no words. So, it is in no small measure that I am grateful to the people who comprise Second Life: the Lindens of the eponymous Linden Lab and the community I have come to be a part of. I've said this many, many times, and in addition to saying it some more, I can only hope to look forward to new ways of displaying my appreciation. My life has been turned around. I will say this again and again and again, and never forget. (For if I do, I shall cease to be me.)
I used to have a thing for repetitive cyclicism, redundancy, doing obsessive-compulsive things in loops. Not so much recently, as I like to venture to new areas and be progressive (c'est la vie!). But in my personal roadmap to the future, there is such a thing as "a good redundancy", and in watching all the clocks and pendulums that've passed me by, I know there will be a time for me to put this part of me forward again. I'd escaped the stereotypically autistic patterns of my childhood, found myself bursting into an energetic frenzy of chaos, but someday, I shall return to the order from whence I came while still retaining the wilder parts of my personality; therein lies my personal balance.
It's been hard for me to write some of the aforementioned, to admit it to you that it happened. But it did, past tense. It can be hard to talk about the darkness, especially when I'm perceived to be such a cheery person. Several times while blogging this, I was tempted by a sinister splinter to hit the trash button and never let the entry see the light of day. I'm still self-conscious what some of my friends might think upon learning about my dark past. At the same time, I recognize that each and every one of us has problems, but not all of us deal with them. This is a big step in dealing with mine, in forging the weapon to slay my personal demons. So much is left to be done, and I must take this step, or I will never get better. I feel so vulnerable and naked laying myself out like this — ashamed, even — but that shame may be a good humility for me. And given my newfound strength and the grace in the steps I take forward, I know this: at last, after a long darkness of the soul that has been gone for almost half a year which I am finally ready to confirm, I feel ready.
I am the sum of my life experiences, good and bad and everything in between.
I am me, and that's all I can be.
I am Torley.
"Father and daughter, reunited at last."
{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }
is it a true to life story?