I accept waiting cheerfully in many situations. If Big Corporation puts me on interminable hold, I doodle or paint on old book covers. An hour vanishes in a short-staffed dentist’s office when I have a notebook. Bank lines are an opportunity to invent backstories for the characters I am in line with.
“Comcast Cable Triangles”
However, if I must wait for a phone call, I cannot focus. Even with a doodle kit or art room nearby, I am unable to sit, draw, or write. I think only of the phone ringing so I can get on with my day.
Likewise, if the cable guy is due between two and four o’clock; I fret and pace from 1:55 to 4:05.
To understand why waiting is sometimes pleasant and other times misery-making, I charted some observations:
My discomfort arises from what my brain is up to while I wait. In any line, I expect my turn will come. I foresee closure and it limits my thinking. The certainty of getting what I need removes ambiguity. My brain does not like ambiguity.
Ambiguity feels infinite. Faced with the intangible, my thoughts spin and branch, weaving an anxious web. This internal turbulence is difficult to describe. I can best relate my perceptions with an analogy.
Imagine you are at the top of a tall building and must descend dozens of flights of stairs to exit. You walk and walk; flowing smoothly down. Your feet know where to go, so your mind is free to think about dinner or other amusements.
The lights suddenly go out. You might be surprised, but you recall how far down the next step is and keep moving.
Then you think, “When will I reach the landing?” and “How many steps until the next set of stairs?” You cannot walk down the stairs without considering where you are. How confident are you that you can count your steps and navigate the landings without second-guessing yourself? Your mind becomes consumed with step-taking.
In my dark descent into ambiguity, I count steps, hoping nothing unexpected happens. My universe permits new possibilities. The number of steps between landings can vary. Even the height of each step is impermanent. Processing the possibilities makes each step an anxious one.
Limits reduce anxiety. Thirty stories in darkness is easier down a continuous spiral staircase. One could even think about dinner again.
This insight helps on a cognitive level, but behaviorally–my mind needs bigger bait than doodles and journaling. I need something else to cope with open-ended waiting.
“Limits reduce anxiety.”
This feels huge to me. I struggle with ambiguity too, especially when it comes in relation to interaction with others. But how to place those finite predictable limits on the stuff in your “miserable” column? Sigh.
Indeed. This is the great struggle of Asperger’s. Our curse also benefits mankind as whole. Anxiety is the impetus for creativity and progress. An anxious brain works hard to solve problems. All the flailing around we do gives us skills to solve problems others might not notice.
It’s good of you to visit and share that you struggle, too. Maybe we can’t quite fix our selves, but the camaraderie makes it better.
Lori
AMEN to this post!
… I want to write something meaningful about my rapture, but that’s all there is to say.
Sometimes, amen is all there is!
Glad to hear from you!
*sigh*
I will do my best to be more concrete… but I swear I really do have to ‘wait and see’ sometimes,
ox
Thank you Hannah. I appreciate you visitng me and commenting. Forgive the delay, on weekends, I close the shutters in my brain!
“I’ll call you right back,” is the worst! I literally expect you to call me RIGHT back, but what does right back mean? In ten minutes, when your done with your current phone call? How long do I wait until I call back because you simply took too long? I pace, I fret, and on more occasions than not, I harrass you until you indeed do call me right back! I am already fretting about the cable guy coming to install my new internet line on Monday, between ten and noon! It is those unknown factors, and the inexact times that I find intolerable! But then again, if I am given an exact time, I get very anxious if that time has come and gone and still I am waiting. LOL No–I don’t wait well.
Oh, me! I write a post about waiting and make the dear folks who write to me wait for a response! My sincere apologies, weekends are challenging for me. Oh, and sometimes weekdays, too!
I am terrible at waiting for call backs. Just like you, I fret and harrass! I also fret in advance. It is strange, but the idea of someone coming to my house strikes me as invasive–brr! today we had chimney cleaners visit. My hubby came home to help, but I was still anxious, hyper and jumpy enough to get the side-eye!
I appreciate you visiting me and leaving me such a thoughtful commnet. I hope your cable instalation went well1
Lori
I totally get this! Waiting makes me crazy. I am unable to focus on anything when I am in that waiting mode. I feel useless.
Oh, my! Oh, my! The waiting, the waiting! With my already phonephobia I have anxiety that spins around in my head, but when I am expecting a call it will cause my brain to be all a flutter, uneasy, and not able to focus. Then, after the call I go through another whole series of anxieties coming down from waiting and the actual conversation…
I will stop my comment now because I can feel another 500 words starting to pour out of me! Ha ha ha
I feel your “waiting” pains. Hee hee