- My first monologue
Monologue, definition.
mon•o•logue [mon-uh-lawg, -log]
noun
1. a form of dramatic entertainment, comedic solo, or the like by a single speaker: a comedian’s monologue.
2. a prolonged talk or discourse by a single speaker, especially one dominating or monopolizing a conversation.
3. any composition, as a poem, in which a single person speaks alone.
4. a part of a drama in which a single actor speaks alone; soliloquy.
As an Aspie I have used monologues all my life
It is my way of trying to connect, trying to be part of, trying to be accepted. To me, I am just talking in a way I have had to rehearse to help me feel liked. As a child I hardly spoke outside of the house. I would stand quietly beside my Mom copying her stance and imitating her hand movements. My mom was very expressive in body language she was hard of hearing and relied very much on lip reading and body gestures. Kind of fun, ironic and a challenge that she got 3 Aspie kids and an Autistic husband. But my Mom was all about hope and belief so I guess it was the blessing she prayed for but it must have been so hard for her.
I learnt to believe I was shy because that’s what people would say. “Aww, she’s so sweet and so shy.” It seemed like a positive and it stopped me having to stress, so I owned it. “I am shy!” I would say and then I’d look at the floor. They stopped asking me questions then. But when I was safe with my Mom, my Nan’s, my Auntie or a friend who was interested in what I was interested in, I was a nonstop chatterbox, a performer and a clown. So tell me, is that really shy. No, I learned to be an actress pretty young as do most high functioning females on the spectrum.
I have always found what is defined as normal conversation quite boring. I struggle when people talk about how they have bought the best of the best, travelled to the back end of beyond, or just talk about a TV show they watch. I find it all so meaningless when there is no depth. But I have come to realise that it is not the topic but more what I absorb of the person.
Excitement, honesty, passion, love and being drawn into their lives is an amazing experience for me. I feel welcomed and accepted, trusted and can’t get enough of that kind of people. But when people use words to brag or lord it over others. That is when I stop speaking. I also hurt when I am trapped in a conversation where someone is talking another down, gossiping or bitching, I lose all trust and loop on what they must say about me behind my back. These people are the ones I have learned to avoid.
Words are so very important to me, I love words and I love to share my heart using the words I can find. I have learned now that I need to also listen and make gaps in my monologue. This is hard because I lose track of where I get to. You have to remember that my speech is a collection of all I have absorbed over 43 years. I have rehearsed a million times in my mind what I am trying to communicate. Trying to engage in speech and draw a person into my world is not a natural thing for me to do. I am quite happy to not share who I am. Also to bring another’s world into me and add new experiences is something I have to pray hard about.
Many people don’t want to visit my happy place but a few special people do. I once said to Mr Locoman that when I talk AT him it’s not that I am having a go, nagging or that he needs to fix me in any way. I just need to verbally process. The very fact that I talk to him shows that I am trying to connect and bring him into my heart, into my experience because I feel safe with him to do that. If I didn’t talk with him it would mean that I wasn’t bothered, I didn’t care if he knew me or not. He found this very odd as he is not Aspie and had not really made this connection before. He just thought I was a chatterbox. 
What I have noticed with my children
For me with my kids it helps if I don’t so much listen for the words but everything else communicated. I do this instinctively because they are both like me. *AJ at 18 still uses monologue but it’s advance maths formulas and equations he talks now not POKEMON anymore. He will also babble about all he is doing as he works in the kitchen teaching himself life skills, or cooking and making mess as it could be seen. I haven’t got a clue about the numbers he speaks, or the strategies of business that he has studied, but I look for his excitement, his enthusiasm and everything else he is sharing with me. I smile and nod and tell him how clever he is. Because he is extremely bright and I am part of that, I listen with him and use his passions to help and benefit him. I am part of his growth and helped mould him into the amazing young man he is. He is learning to have breaks and beckon me in. He is still young.
*CAL didn’t speak until she was three years of age and her first words were her copying what she heard on Dora the Explorer. She spoke Spanish and with a Spanish accent it was so very cute. She has always been a lot quieter than *AJ, more of a writer and creative in the arts. However, when she starts chatting about the things she loves in a safe environment and with people she connects with, what she shares amazes me.
I only babble and show the real me to those I trust.
I share my passions, my rehearsed conversations, my memorised quotes, film scripts and the knowledge I have stored from all my special interests. I can feel as strongly for my special interests as others feel for people. My special interests can be like a romance, I fall in love with what I learn and that love I want to share with those I love. The passion I feel, the excitement I have I want to share. I want to feel close so I do my best to fit and include those I love. Truth being told I am just as happy zoned out in my own world, I only share out of love and a want to feel connected. For the most part of my life I didn’t understand that most people just find my babble boring or see me as a know it all. I have not always picked the right people to trust and that has caused me great hurt. Because I usually only try to bring those I want to connect with into my world when it back fires it hurts me far more than I can put into words. I write poetry because I can disconnect those emotions and place them somewhere else. When I cut myself off I stop talking, because there is no purpose in sharing words if I don’t want to be seen, accepted or pursued.
So today I am wondering
Does all my babble really help? Is all I share of any use? Do I actually make a difference?
I share out of love for all the little Aspie kids that I don’t even know in the hope that something I share can help them have a brighter future. I also share so I can connect because I care deeply but feel afraid to comment on most blogs.
Does any of this make sense?
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