This is a very first-person account of how I experience disappointment. I think it is related to Asperger’s Syndrome, but I could use some feedback to understand it more.
When I was a child, probably about ten, I was excited to see the late Doc Severinsen (the band-leading trumpet player from Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show (kids, before Conan hosted the Tonight Show, it was hosted by Jay Leno, who took over from Johnny Carson))
My father is a trumpet player, I played that instrument a bit before landing firmly on the trombone and baritone horn. As a consequence of our family’s attention to brass music (we had a quintet with Dad and four children on two trumpets, baritone, French Horn and tuba) I was especially interested in hearing Doc play. I looked forward to that concert for what seemed like months (probably weeks actually.)
We planned a trip to Anchorage, we travelled across Cook Inlet on a ferry, drove five hours through an Alaskan winter to the only big city around—then disaster! Doc Severinsen got sick. The concert was cancelled. My stomach tightens just now as I write about it. I was as close to devastated as a ten-year old knows. I was sick, angry, and desperate to change reality. I was equally overwhelmed at my absolute impotence to change anything. I couldn’t call Doc and plead with him. I couldn’t persuade my Dad to intervene. I simply had to absorb the loss. I went through stages that I now recognize as grieving having experienced the full force of that emotion with the deaths of my brother and sister.
I don’t handle disappointment well. If I am expecting X and I get not-X or Y, I can descend into a funk pretty quickly. When I do, I don’t want to be around myself and I doubt anyone sane wants to be around me much either.
I’m thinking about this because tonight I had to skip an event when scheduling conflicts made it impossible to attend. It wasn’t a major event, and my bad mood was way out of proportion to the minor change in plans. But this is who I am and how I experience disappointment. I really dislike it, and I react accordingly. I know enough not to attack the persons who may have caused the disappointment, but I still don’t know what to do with the stew of frustration.
If you love someone with AS, you may have seen this behavior without knowing what it is. In a way, I am like a very young child who doesn’t get his way and throws a tantrum. The difference is that I know my reaction is disproportionate. I just don’t know how to deal with it. That’s part of why I’m writing—because thinking and analyzing is my default way to deal with emotional turmoil.
Just as we with AS strongly prefer routine and predictability, we also have deep passions held with irrational fervor. I think my problem with handling disappointment is related to both: I am both overly living in anticipation of the future event, and I am overly infatuated with the specific timing and organization of the event as I anticipate it. When the event is cancelled, changed, etc. I react to both the loss of the event and the disruption to my anticipated schedule. That’s a double whammy.
At least that’s how I feel. So the next time you or someone you love with AS seems unusually out of sorts, track back and see if there was some minor disappointment or change of plans that is souring the rest of the day/week. It may not cure the problem, but understanding the source can help manage the symptoms.
I know other people feel intense disappointments for other reasons, but in my case it feels very wrapped up with my Aspergian character. Do any of you feel the same?
Peter, have you considered the role *trust* plays here?
ReplyDeleteI'm sure you're aware that as AS individuals, we don't "do" trust very well - either trust of people, or of things / conditions / events, whatever. Any change, therefore, in our paradigm: a missed event, a missing piece, so on, is like a rip in some cosmic fabric, with which we're more in tune than most because we don't take it for granted.
I've described it to 'friends' as an inability to take gravity for granted. I've compensated for this inability by choosing NOT to take *anything* for granted - no promises, no events, no preconditions, nothing. It prevents disappointments, it prevents that horrible feeling that the next step will be into some unseen chasm, but it stinks as a mode of existence.
Paul, I totally agree. Your approach is Buddhist in a way. By removing (suppressing) the desire for things to be reliable, you avoid much of the pain when things disappoint you. I just can't join you on that eight-fold path.
ReplyDeleteThe problem with disappointment is that some of us can't release the hope. Sometimes I don't realize I've set myself up for disappointment until after the trigger. Bad on me. I just don't know enough to predict when I will overreact to a disappointment.
I guess we each find our way to a mode that is survivable.
Peter -
ReplyDeleteYour comments helped both to remind me of a summary statement I neglected to make, and to put a finer edge on it.
Speaking for myself at least, when I allow myself to be disappointed it is not SOLELY on account of a loss of *hope* in a *particular* event. For me it is as if each time there is some failure of fulfillment, there is a *breach of trust,* which can in itself - for neurotypicals at least - be devastating.
I too need (rather than simply blanket not trusting) to define for myself what it is that I am trusting - and perhaps when I understand the size or scope of the trust extended, I might have a better understanding of the seismic shock that will undergird the evident surface disappointment that comes with the failure of a particular event. How deeply does the failure of a pointal event affect my sense of the stability of the status quo?
(I'm going through a situation right now with my mail-order pharmacy. As angry as I am with the *event* of not getting critical medication on time, as worried as I am about the effects on my work and life performance as a result -- all normal -- I feel as well that there is a breach of trust. I trusted a company I've had no choice but to trust, and they've betrayed that trust. I have not permanently revoked that trust. That revokation will have - is having - its own fallout, amplifying the effect.)
This is a wonderful post. Having experienced a bitter disappointment today, over something that I had set my sights very high on today, (a 'mystery' consolation prize from a sweepstakes), with nothing to warrant that trust, and found myself almost crying when I received much, much less than what I was especting. the prize was nice in itself, I guess; but the fact that it was something that I neither needed nor wanted, almost reduced me to tears. your explanation, helps greatly to put this into perspective. something I sorely need to learn :( thank you.
ReplyDelete