Personal loss of passion.

In Library School I was actively involved in the Progressive Librarians Guild.  Back in 2003, I was vehemently against the Iraq War and involved online with fellow SLIS students who opposed the war.  I was even against the original invasion of Afghanistan, which was a very unpopular, minority view in those days.

My anti-War stance and friendships with fellow anti-War SLIS grad students is what naturally lead me to PLG.  As I became more active in the online discussion in those days, I was invited to join the Progressive Librarians Guild Coordinating Committee.  I did join, and served for a number of  years, mostly chiming in on votes put before the CC to say yea or nay to a proposed resolution or public statement.  I cared very much in those early years.

My anti-War activism also drew me to the woman (an UNT undergrad) whom I would eventually marry.  We were both anti-War and sought comfort in each other.  The problem was that we both opposed the War and President Bush for vastly, vastly different reasons.  Over time we learned the painful truth that we were more united by what we opposed than anything positive we could both affirm.  When she returned to the intense religiosity of her childhood, it more or less spelled the end of our relationship.  She was also verbally abusive and I was conflict averse and also an undiagnosed person on the autism spectrum.  My undiagnosed ASD definitely played a role in the disintegration of my marriage.  We were both stumbling around in the dark.

I can see now that my undiagnosed ASD had led to some social faux pas online with the PLG group.  I even got "flamed" once or twice for honest remarks I made that were not well received.  I was pretty naive about the ins and outs of Leftist politics in those days.  Probably still am.

Two failed attempts at being a professional Librarian later, and after finally landing a job at a local public library system as a mere clerk (and grateful even for that!), I found myself increasingly estranged from PLG and its work.  I still morally support them from afar, but I just find it increasingly hard to care as much about a profession that in the main does not seem to care about me.  I feel excluded from librarianship and thus alienated from it.  I missed some key votes on PLG-CC because I just couldn't stay motivated to stay on top of things.  I had more immediate concerns, like my horrific, bullying boss at the time.  I'm still grateful to have weathered that long and difficult storm.  I am pleased to be sailing on open, peaceful seas with a gentle breeze at my back again.

I made everything easy on everyone and just up and resigned my PLG-CC post without a fight.  My heart simply wasn't in it anymore.  At most I sometimes keep up with some of the members via Facebook, sometimes contribute to the Facebook page.  I'm subscribed to the general PLG list, but don't pay it much mind anymore either.

Upon coming to terms with my ASD diagnosis, I realized that one of my Library school friends & anti-War compatriots, Nancy, was also probably an ASD person as well, I realized from hindsight.  I tried to seek Nancy out, only to be told by a mutual friend that Nancy had subsequently passed away from an illness...far far too young.  The mutual friend was at least able to confirm for me that Nancy indeed was on the autism spectrum.  But I was heartbroken at not being able to commiserate with her after my own diagnosis.  I can remember Nancy being very socially awkward, even more so than me, and feeling kind of sorry for her and even trying to encourage her to speak more or re-assure her that what she had to say was important.  I miss Nancy so much sometimes.  Our mutual friend assures me that Nancy was much loved by her patrons, and that is a small comfort.  I'm glad she was able to find some success as a librarian before being forced to exit this life far too soon.

I stay in touch with a library colleague who is still in North Texas and whom I'm convinced is a fellow Aspie.  He resisted even my DX at first but over time he's come to at least allow that it's possible we're both on the autism spectrum and that is why we "get" each other more readily than other people do.  He's going through a rough patch now but to his credit he's a survivor and I have confidence in him.  After all, he still has the same job, while I had to leave North Texas in disgrace.  He made that small college town we both shared even more fun than it otherwise would've been for me.

I have an ASD colleague that I work with now, but he is a part-time staffer and does not have even a BA, much less an MLS.  He's far less intellectual or introspective than me.  He's progressed to being at least friendly now, but really, we have nothing in common.  I'm polite, but I really haven't much interest in forming an actual friendship with this co-worker.  I have a couple of Neurotypical co-workers that I actually do like to hang out with...they're comic book & sci-fi nerds, so at least we have some things tangentially in common.
We used to play a tabletop RPG together but that is now on hiatus.  I know in the beginning my ASD caused me to make some social missteps that now limit my participation in their social circles.  It's just how it is.  Some of the friends of friends are cool with me, others not (though they pretend otherwise to be polite).

Ironically, I did work up enough passion to even write about all this in this blogpost.  As you can see, there's not much that moves or motivates me within Librarianship anymore.  I just can't muster much enthusiasm for the profession that mostly let me down and failed me.  It's just a job now, nothing more.  Don't get me wrong, I still like my job, I could be vastly worse, but I don't feel forcefully passionate about it the way I did when I was an actual working librarian being paid a real and respectable salary.  I live at home with my parents because on my salary now I'd be *desperately* poor after making the sky-high apartment rents in this area every month.  I do pay my parents a modest rent every month, but beyond that this arrangement, though mildly annoying at times, does give me enough disposable income to have a fairly good life.  It's not at all uncommon for Aspie men my age to live with their parents, which helps take away some of the sting of the situation and removes for me some of the social stigma--or at least my worry about the social stigma of living at home with my folks. I even maintained an emotionally intimate relationship with a girlfriend while living at home and working for AIG in between library jobs...I'd spend weekends with her...Friday and Saturday nights through Sunday AM, then weekdays at home.  It was a very agreeable arrangement.  Lisa was such a lovely partner whom I cared for deeply.  If I had known of my ASD diagnosis then, had understood just how good a fit my AIG job was with my A.S., and appreciated more just how good a fit Lisa was with ME, it's entirely conceivable that I would've turned down the next university librarian gig down and just stayed on with Lisa and with AIG forever; It's not unreasonable to think I might've even had a kid or two with Lisa under slightly different hypothetical circumstances.  I would've made my own heart more emotionally available to Lisa if I hadn't been so focused on professional ambitions within Librarianship in those years.

I loved my job with AIG.  It was an excellent fit for me as an Aspie.  I only ever tried my hand at Librarianship because my AIG job *wasn't* good enough for my mother, who nagged me constantly about it being beneath me and not good for someone so smart as me.  Since she was a librarian, I figured becoming one myself would finally shut her the hell up and stop her constant disapproval and nagging over my career path and just leave me in peace.  It's all tragic and stupid in hindsight.  It can't be fixed, I'm unable to return to AIG thanks to a permanent hiring freeze on account of the big gov't bailout.  There was an opportunity to relocate to their Wisconsin office, but we could not come to terms on salary or relo costs, and not having ANY family or friends in that state, I just felt too uneasy about a move so big and leaving me so entirely alone.  I just felt too vulnerable and unable to seize on the opportunity--owning again in part to my recent ASD diagnosis.

These are regrets I'll carry with me as long as I live, the long shadow of regret of decisions made out of ignorance of my ASD condition.  An earlier diagnosis in my life might have made all the difference.