Social Anxiety vs. Crowd Patience
There’s an odd little interplay that results when I go out somewhere. If we’re going to a social situation where we’ll be expected to converse with people I don’t know, then I’ll get nervous and want to leave. If, however, we’ll be packed in somewhere with a bunch of strangers who we aren’t expected to talk to but whom we have to put up with while waiting in line or while going from point A to point B, then I tend to be fine. I call it social anxiety versus crowd patience.
When it comes to conversing with people, I have very little patience. This has nothing to do with the people I’m talking to, mind you. It’s just that talking to people makes me nervous. I have to remember their name, past conversations we might have had, talk about topics I may or may not have an interest in, and keep in mind all of the social rules that come naturally to those who don’t lie on the autistic spectrum. I might be sitting there talking, but mentally I’ve bolted for the door and am halfway down the stairs.
(Side note: I’m constantly amazed how B can recall conversations months or years later. In general, I have a very short conversation-memory. Who I talk to about what tends to fade quickly most times.)
However, crowds don’t seem to present much of a problem to me. This is actually quite odd as people with Asperger’s can find crowds an overwhelming sensory experience. However, while there might be chaos all around me, I can usually filter it out and hyper-focus in on what I’m doing at the moment. I just regard people as moving obstacles to avoid when walking or to wait behind if on line. Social expectations are low. So long as I don’t cut in front of anybody or knock anyone over, I’m fine. I don’t need to know the name or interests of the person in front of me. It’s perfectly fine for me to retreat into my own head and ignore everyone walking around me.
All my "crowd patience" goes out the window if the crowd is a party, however. Parties aren’t about impersonally navigating past people to get to a destination. They are social events and all of those conversational social rules apply. Furthermore, I can’t just treat the people around me as if they were faceless obstacles. Anyone near me is a potential conversation. The entire situation quickly moves from uncomfortable to overwhelming.
This doesn’t mean I *WANT* to leave, mind you. In fact, I often *WANT* to join in but the more I join in, the more uncomfortable I feel until I *NEED* to leave.
The give-and-take between my social anxiety and crowd patience can make outings quite "interesting." Will the activity tend towards the impersonal crowds enough that I will be able to put up with it? Or will it be social enough that I’ll begin to get nervous? Add in NHL’s social/sensory concerns and anxiety and it’s no wonder why our social calendar can be tough to manage.
NOTE: The crowd image above is by ainlondon and is available via MorgueFile.com.





A few days ago, NHL lamented about how rough his life was because I was sending him to bed without him having dessert. (Dessert isn’t an "every night" proposition in our house, but the kids keep lobbying for it to be a required part of dinner.) This "hard knock life" moment was contrasted with a program we attended at the New York State Museum. During the various components of this program, NHL got to see just what immigrants (especially Jewish immigrants) who came to America in the early 1900′s had to deal with.
Once the weary travellers arrived in America, they would be processed at Ellis Island. Many would get through, but sometimes individuals would be identified as being ill. (After all, crowded boat + "no facilities" + no medical care + long trip equals illnesses running rampant.) If you were marked at sick, you would be put on a boat back home. It didn’t matter if your entire family had gone through already. Children would be sent home by themselves while their parents would be let through.
If the travellers were admitted into America, they didn’t face "streets paved with gold." Instead, they would get to share a tiny apartment with 6 other people. Four of those apartments would share a single bathroom. There would also be a language barrier (which one presenter simulated by speaking to us for over five minutes in fluent Hebrew while we looked puzzled).
This presentation led to NHL and me talking about how he would feel about being forced to work like this. NHL is a big early bird, frequently waking up at 5:30am, but were we living in this time, he would need to wake up as much as an hour earlier. In addition, while he goes to sleep at 8pm now, were he working like the immigrants did, he wouldn’t get to sleep until after 11pm.
After this presentation, NHL not only came away having learned about a big part of our history. Perhaps even better, he left with a renewed appreciation for his own life. He gets to sleep in a comfortable bed, the extent of his "work" is homework for school, has toys to play with, and has plenty of room to move around and play. His life is infinitely better than that of our immigrant ancestors. Of course, were it not for them leaving everything they’ve ever known behind and braving unimaginable hurdles, our lives would not be as good as they are.


