A Senseless Breakup As a Zen Koan

She put me in an impossible situation, and gave me the gift of a koan.

I’m still reeling from the worst breakup of my life. Well, the worst breakup so far. There’s no telling if something even worse will come some day. It’s been almost two years, but last night a song came up and I cried anew. Sometimes, it is like it happened yesterday.

I don’t go into relationships reservedly. This is true with everyone. My current boyfriend. My ex-wife. And the girl who is the topic of this piece. So, without reservations, I gave her everything I could give her. Most of all, I gave her my ability to listen, and my patience. How were my ability to listen and my patience useful?

She engaged in self-harm. The scars were plainly visible during our first date. She answered truthfully when I asked about them.

She abused substances. She was truthful about this, too.

She did not follow her medication regimen. She told me so, truthfully.

She flat out told me, months before our breakup, that she did not see a future for us. This was her truth.

I listened patiently to all of this, without flying off the handle. I don’t know what anger would have given me, beyond an immediate and short-lived feeling of satisfaction. If anything, it would most likely have ruined our relationship sooner. It actually almost did. One day, we had an argument in which she denied the existence of racism. I could not tolerate this, and so I flew off the handle.

She saw me as her abusive mother, and I triggered her cPTSD. I did not physically harm her – I would never have done this – but my yelling was enough. She ran out of my apartment to cool down. I was so horrified at my reaction that I decided to break up with her. She came back saying that if we worked on our relationship, we could make things work. I accepted her offer and we came back together.

Her denial of racism punched me in the gut. I’m the type of enby who will readily cry if he sees black parents on the news talk about the senseless assassination of their child by cops. I live in a majority black neighborhood. Heck, my boyfriend is black. Denying obvious racism is an excellent way to get me to explode. I’m not proud of this, but it was the truth (and maybe still is the truth). This is the only time I displayed anger with her.

The life I had lived with my ex-wife prior to our divorce was extremely peaceful… and I daresay now too peaceful for growth. The partners I’ve had after my divorce have taught me so much. I am already enlightened. Anger is not generally a useful emotion. Anger is a choice that I am making. Etc. If the girl I’m talking about denied racism today, I’d hope that I wouldn’t fly off the handle. Still, I’m not sure that even today, I’d be able to handle it peacefully. It is such a gut punch.

Your Autistic Life is supported by readers like you. Use one of the links below to support my writing! Thank you.

Okay. So, I said that she gave me the gift of a koan. What is a koan? It is a device that Zen practitioners use. Some koans are textual. Here is an example of a textual koan:

What is the sound of one hand clapping?

In order to answer the question, a Zen student encountering this koan will typically try to think their way through it, and will fail miserably. It is possible to answer this koan, but not through discursive stratagems. There are many such textual koans in the Zen tradition. There is, however, another type of koan. I don’t think I’m being original here, but I’m going to call this a life koan. It is a situation that grips you deeply in your gut. It is unsatisfactory, and maybe unresolvable.

When this girl broke up with me, she did put me into an impossible situation. When our relationship was firing on all cylinders, it was pure magic. I had adored her, and given her everything I could give, and yet… this was not enough.

Why?

Oh, I can list dozens of reasons, but these reasons are all bullshit. She did give me reasons, but a few weeks after our breakup she revealed to me, from her own mouth, that her reasons were lies. How far had we fallen from her initial truthfulness?

Thus, it is, that almost two years after our breakup. I wrestle with this koan: why did she leave me? I don’t think this question has a satisfactory answer. This koan is a parting gift that she gave me, inadvertently. Still, it is a gift, and one that I will most likely animate my Zen practice to my death.

The Examined Life

The discovery of my neurodivergence has been a blessing in disguise, for, together with other crises, it forced me to examine my life.

I know for a fact that some people won’t accept that neurodivergence is a blessing at all. These folks sometimes wish that they would be able to do away with their own neurodivergence, and be neurotypical, because it would make things easier. They are most likely correct. Some things would be easier. It is easier to live your life if you do not spend most of it strategizing to avoid shutdowns, meltdowns, and burnouts. This much is true.

Truth be told, sometimes, too, I have fleeting thoughts about how easier my own life would be if I weren’t neurodivergent. I wouldn’t have to wear noise-cancelling headphones, and look out of place, when I go to those events where they blast music. I wouldn’t have to deal with social anxiety, insomnia, reflux, shutdowns, etc. The list goes on and on.

However, I am quite certain that, without me being autistic, my own life wouldn’t be better, overall. It would, in fact, be a much poorer life. I bet the same is true for other people, though I cannot be absolutely certain of this. Perhaps the realization that neurodivergence is a blessing requires the perspective of age. I discovered my own neurodivergence at 50. Therefore, I never had to think about it as a young person.

At any rate, neurodivergence, for all its ills, provided me a great boon: it forced me to examine my own life. Socrates said it best:

“The unexamined life is not worth living.”

According to Plato, these words were uttered by Socrates at his trial, when he chose death over exile. The authorities had accused him of corrupting Athens’ youth. Yep, the “for the children” moral panic goes at least as far back as the time of Socrates. There is also a flip side to this saying. It is this:

“The examined life is worth living.”

Perhaps a better wording for both sayings would be that the unexamined life is a wasted life, and thus, the examined life, is a fruitful, not wasted life. There is a danger here. It is to think that what I’m arguing for is that those who cannot examine their own lives should be treated with less respect than those who can. This is not what I am arguing. Treat everyone with respect, and try to create the conditions through which everyone who wishes to do so can examine their own lives.

Now, if there is one thing at which capitalism excels, it is at pushing the citizens who happen to live under its edicts to live an unexamined life. In order to be a good capitalist citizen, all other considerations have to be subjugated to the pursuit of capital.

This is perhaps the most evident for those people who have a hard time making ends meet. They must work long hours, and maybe multiple jobs, in order to survive. In this survival mode, there is precious little time to examine their own lives. When you come back from work dead tired, you do not have the inclination to spend time reflecting upon your own life. You go to bed, and the cycle restarts the next day.

This may be less evident, but this pursuit of capital also impedes the ability of the ruling class to examine their own lives. In the capitalistic mind, it is not possible to own enough. One has to continue working to amass more and more property ad nauseam. The rat race never ends, and the rat race leaves no time to examine one’s life.

There is one type of event that is likely to cause us to examine our life: a life crisis. These crises can take many forms. In my own life, I’ve gone through multiple crises: a heart attack at the age of 24, a cancer at the age of 48 (and the disability it entailed), a divorce at the age of 50, the discovery of my own neurodivergence at the age of 50, and there may be other crises that don’t look like crises to me right now but are crises nonetheless.

I expect that a crisis which is apt at causing us to examine our lives has to have certain characteristics. I haven’t cataloged those characteristics yet, but I still can venture some informed guesses. The crises that would prompt self-examination have to be forceful while at the same time not being crushing. My cancer almost killed me. If I had died, it wouldn’t have spurred any examination of my life. At the same time, it wasn’t a walk in the park.

Furthermore, these crises cannot be perpetual. The person who needs to work two jobs to make ends meet lives in a perpetual crisis, a crisis that leaves no time for reflection. True, the fact that I’m neurodivergent is perpetual, but it is the initial discovery that is the crisis. I’ve learned how to deal with my autism. I still continue to learn, but my learning is not as intense as it initially was.

You may be surprised to see in my list the discovery of one’s own neurodivergence as a crisis. I do think, no matter how it happens, that dealing with one’s own neurodivergence is a crisis, and one that especially lends itself to favoring living an examined life. From what I gather through talking with other neurodivergent folks, the discovery of our own neurodivergence causes us to examine very carefully, at the very least, which activities we can take on, and which we should avoid. I know I did this.

It is perhaps ironic that, in the case of neurodivergence, this self-examination is spurred by the very capitalist society in which we live. This is because its edicts are so often at odds with our own needs for self-care. What society considers to be acceptable behavior and acceptable demands is so often to us, neurodivergent people, unacceptable.

Now, I’m not saying that all neurodivergent people are experts at examining their own life. However, this examination is so crucial for providing for our own care, that most of us are forced to perform it. Thus it is that we avoid living the unexamined life, and that our lives become in fact fruitful.

Your own life is fruitful, when you examine it. May your own neurodivergence spur you to examine it. May we also work to push past capitalism so that all of us who wish to do so can engage in examining our own lives, for they become richer from it.

#ActuallyAutistic #autism #AutisticWriters #capitalism #crisis #LifeCrisis #neurodivergence #Socrates #TheExaminedLife #TheUnexaminedLife #YourAutisticLife

https://www.yourautisticlife.com/2024/09/02/the-examined-life/

How Does One Feel One’s Gender?

I don’t know what it means to feel “masculine.”

Ever since I discovered that I’m nonbinary, I’ve been reflecting on what gender is supposed to be, and I’m just ending up confused. Some people talk about feeling “masculine” or “feminine” but I don’t really know what it means, other than acting in accordance with the way that society decides that “men” and “women” should act.

People are born with a certain set of genitals, on the basis of this, society says “male” or “female.” This is already problematic. If you think that the biological sex binary is a given, I invite you to listen to this TED talk:

https://youtu.be/stUl_OapUso?si=DizHKNWPUynGjMZ_

I already knew that the biological basis for the binary is on shaky ground. However, there is nothing like someone speaking from actual lived experience to sharpen your understanding.

I’ve mentioned above that on top of biological sex, society imposes a series of behavioral conventions that define what men and women are. Men should act this way. Women should act that way. This is the gender binary. When a man acts in the way a woman should, it is deemed unnatural. Same when a woman acts in the way a man should.

I used to think that if I declared myself nonbinary, it was from an ideological standpoint more than anything else, but I don’t think this is the case. I’m just puzzled when people talk about feeling their gender, because this is something I don’t experience, or that I experience only faintly.

The gender binary is a complete fabrication from society. It is mere convention. It is not nature itself that compels those we call men to be competitive, or to be the provider in a couple, but society. It used to be that women couldn’t get credit without their husband’s approval. It is not nature that dictated this, but society. This restriction disappeared, not because of any change in nature, but because of changes in how society sees the gender binary.

Thus, it is that when I talk about my nonbinary nature, I talk about behavior. This is only because society itself distinguishes one side of the binary from the other in terms of behavior. It happens from time to time that someone interjects that gender identity is not the same as gender expression. Yes, this is true, but it has no bearing on what I am saying.

Let me make this clear. I’m not the gender police. You absolutely can be a feminine man, or a masculine woman, or any other variation. I won’t get on your case for it, and may even give you romantic love. However, as far as I am concerned, when it comes to evaluating whether I am man, woman, or nonbinary, my behavior is a critical component of the analysis.

So society, just like it has made me think that I was neurotypical by treating me like a neurotypical person, has also made me think that I am a man by treating me like a man. This is where gender dysphoria sets in. Yes, I am well versed in looking the part. Yes, I’ve been encultured in manhood, and, usually, I role-play a man. However, there are some behaviors that are required of me, as a man, that I don’t want to engage in. Hence, the gender dysphoria that occurs when I’m pushed to engage in those behaviors.

Still, I don’t feel the male gender in my life. I don’t feel special enjoyment when I do manly things. The notion of whether an act is manly or not does not figure in my decisions. For instance, my relationship with sports has been quite tepid. I used to watch racing, and that was it, as far as sports were concerned. I don’t anymore. I don’t think I’m missing anything important. I’m not pining after sports. It is not somehow missing from my life as a man.

It is only because society insisted that I am a man, and I believed society, that I thought that I was a man. Since I do not feel my gender, where does this lead me, but to the conclusion that I am in fact nonbinary?

#AutisticWriters #behavior #enby #gender #GenderBinary #GenderDysphoria #GenderExpression #GenderIdentity #nonbinary #SocialConvention #YourAutisticLife

https://www.yourautisticlife.com/2024/07/08/how-does-one-feel-ones-gender/

Am I The Asshole?

This is a question that I ask myself often, probably because of the trauma I suffered.

I believe this concern about whether I am an asshole comes from innumerable times when I was unjustly labeled an asshole. Over time, I internalized the accuser’s voices, and now I ask myself whether I am, in fact, an asshole.

Let me tell you a little story. About two weeks and a half ago, I had a great date with a submissive girl. She was about all I wanted in a partner. She was autistic, like I am. Her autistic traits were different from my own. We had a wonderful weekend together. When I asked her how she felt, she said that she felt content. These were her words.

At the end of our date, a crisis happened in her family. Her family is not anywhere nearby. Still, it was a serious situation. The last I heard from her was that she had arrived home safely. Then, she went silent. I have not heard from her since our date. Is she okay? Is the crisis over? Did she travel several states away to be with her family? I have no idea.

When things like this happen, my mind goes into high gear. She was content. I gave her my all. I was kind. Still… did I… did I manage to put her off somehow? Did I do something that I did not notice? Am I the asshole?

Lest you think that I’m being dramatic with the worry about doing things that I did not notice, I’ll remind you that I’m now divorced, due, mostly, to my ex-wife not being able to handle my autistic traits. If she was annoyed with me, she’d glare. I would not be able to read her glares. Then she’d accuse me of deliberately ignoring her glares. Conversely, I accuse her of imagining that she glared. Yes, I’m quite capable of unwittingly putting off people, even ND people. My ex-wife has ADHD.

I’d like to think that I would act superbly in all possible situation. Alas, I know that’s not the case. I have sometimes not acted superbly. I was not acting like a monster, but I still managed to hurt people around me, sometimes the very people that I adored. I’ve sometimes managed to be the asshole.

I think as a response to the trauma that I suffered, and the fact that I don’t always act superbly, my brain likes to compare my actual behavior to that of complete shitbags. I can’t help it. That’s how my brain works.

Let me give you an example. During the date with the girl above, we went to have coffee. We sat at a table, and we chatted for a bit and drank. She pulled out her phone, and started reading a manga. I’ve been in the NT world long enough to know that if she had been on a date with an NT individual, that person would have interpreted it as her not being interested in the date. For my part, I did not make a fuss. I just continued talking to her, and enjoying her company.

Something similar happened later when I proposed to watch a movie. She said she was reading. I thought she meant that she did not want to watch the movie. No biggie. A bit later, I suggested putting on a TV show, because I had figured that perhaps the specific movie I had picked was not titillating her. She said she was still reading but that I could put it on and that she had the ability to watch TV and read at the same time.

Fair enough, I don’t have this multitasking capability. Let’s go back to the episode at the coffee shop. Would it have served me anything to get angry? No. Both episodes, however, would have been likely to cause ire in an NT person. Yes, I compare my behavior to those of NT folks. Again, I can’t help it. I don’t decide to do this. It just happens. What I do decide to do is to not engage in those destructive behaviors.

I sometimes wonder if I am going to be the asshole, even in situations that haven’t happened yet. I’m pansexual, but I’ve been with exactly one man. He is trans too. We had a nice couple of days together, but prior to this happening, I was wondering… Would I say or do something to turn him off. I had never been in that situation before. So I was comparing myself, again, to dirtbags. Was I going to be the asshole when we’d be together?

I was once explaining to a group of people that someone had ghosted me after one night of sex, but that I had decided not to go after her. Those people took me to task immediately. Why would I even decide not to go after her, unless I were some sort of monster who does actually stalk people. Hmm… let provide an explanation. First, as I said above, I cannot help compare myself to dirtbags. I don’t decide this. Second, I’m a software engineer. I’ve actually done things that would allow me to stalk someone if I wanted to. Doing those things does not require mental effort. I’ve not stalked anyone, but I could super easily do it if I wanted to.

I have an expression for what those people did to me: karmic shaming. People think of karma as this special force, but it is really just the conditioning that we receive as we grow up. I have the karma of someone who compares himself to shitbags. I also have the karma of a software engineer. This is my conditioning. I cannot help it. Shaming me about having this karma is not helpful.

I’m usually not the asshole, but I keep asking myself, even in situations where I shouldn’t: am I, in fact, the asshole? Did I do something I did not notice?

#ActuallyAutistic #AmITheAsshole #autism #autistic #AutisticWriters #Dating #KarmicShaming #trauma #YourAutisticLife

https://www.yourautisticlife.com/2024/03/26/am-i-the-asshole/