I am a judgy person. I’ve always been this way, and it’s always contributed to challenges I have getting along with other people. I’ve come to realize that my judgyness is probably related to my autism - a combination of saying what I think, a tendency to be extremely honest, and a lack of regard for being discreet. Being blunt is one way to describe it, but it’s more than that. Bluntness with a very specific opinion that is stated as truth, even if I have no evidence to support my stance.
One night when I was driving around with the punk rockers in highschool, I vented about a disagreement I’d been having with a friend who wasn’t in the car. “He’s an asshole,” I said, “He only cares about himself.” I’m sure he had done some specific thing that was legitimately annoying, but the real problem lay in the fact that he had successfully wooed a young woman I had been longing for.
Hearing my blanket condemnation, a more level headed friend jumped in to say, “It’s important to point out that these are our opinions and feelings right now–”
“No!” I cut him off, “I’m saying it because it’s the truth. He only cares about himself.” I continued my rant a bit and effectively ended the discussion. The others grew quiet, realizing there was no point in trying to discuss the issue. My friend’s success with the woman I had a crush on was painful for me to watch - yet another example of my inability to relate to, or attract intimacy with, other people. My response was probably not too different from any teenage boy - cataloging the reasons the guy was an asshole and looking for new reasons to dislike him constantly. This was a case of cliche teenage love and jealousy. But are things that different now?
These base, primal judgments still pop into my head frequently. When my guard is down I’ll let myself run with them, my inner voice ranting until I realize that my lips are moving and it probably looks like I’m talking to myself. “These are the stories we tell ourselves” is how psychologists, executive coaches, and self help people describe it. Through the training and coaching I’ve had in my work, I’ve learned many techniques to prevent myself from blurting out the stories that play in my head. I’ve also learned to identify them, label them, and remind myself that they are just stories - explanations that make me feel better or that satisfy my need for a rational explanation - but that have no basis in truth. After I do that, I can more rationally think about how I want to react rather than letting my instinct and emotions govern my response.
I guess this is all a form of masking, but I think it is useful and has enabled me to achieve much more success in my career, and in my social life, than I otherwise would have. I try not to think of it as suppressing my true self, but more like just trying to be a nicer person. Perhaps most importantly, this form of masking isn’t about hiding the truth, it’s about giving me time to realize what the real truth is (which is never so simple as the story in my head). The stories are still there, but I have gotten better at keeping them to myself.
I've been thinking about all this recently because I’m not drinking, and the more time I spend not drinking, the more I find myself judging people who are “indulging”. I find it’s similar to how I, as a healthy eater, might judge others for indulging in very unhealthy foods. Is my judgment about watching others drink because I used to really enjoy drinking, and I miss it, and I’m jealous of their ability to do it without feeling self conscious? Or, am I genuinely worried about their welfare, concerned that they might have health or other complications because of their drinking? I might pretend it’s the latter, but I think it’s probably more the former. It’s not just that I wish I could drink, I wish I could drink without feeling bad about myself for doing it.
And it’s not just drinking. I feel bad about myself for all kinds of things: staying in bed more than eight hours, even if I’m really tired, and even if I was tossing and turning all night; taking a day of rest from exercise; eating food that doesn’t conform to my strict definition of “healthy”; watching TV or other forms of entertainment that don’t meet my standards of artistic merit; “wasting time” chit chatting or just hanging out; relaxing when there is something in the house that needs to be cleaned; or spending “too much” time (whatever that means) doing anything pleasurable. The end result of all this self-judging is not that I am super productive all the time, but rather that I am paralyzed from doing anything because I’m too busy criticizing myself for not doing the “right” things.
Where do I get my ideas of what things are worthy or unworthy to do, of what things are healthy or not healthy, good or bad? I suspect I absorb information from a lot of places, but probably pay attention to people who appear to know what they are talking about, or perhaps who seem like people I want to emulate. I read a lot. Specifically, I read a lot of journalism, which I believed (for most of my adult life) was as advertised - free of bias, objective, reporting the facts. In recent years I’ve learned that I was wrong about that. Journalists are humans, and humans have bias (conscious and unconscious). Reporting on science, which is the root of a lot of my thoughts about “healthy” vs. “unhealthy” is a subjective interpretation, of an interpretation of (usually) a single study, which in itself is just one tiny piece of a much bigger story. Headlines are written not to summarize the information in the article, but to entice readers.
I’m also somewhat impressionable. I think this is related to my autism. I can be easily persuaded by the arguments of people who are appealing to me, whom I trust, or who I think appear trustworthy. I’m not easily conned (I think my anxiety protects me from that), but I listen to people whom I deem credible. I’ve realized this isn’t based on credentials necessarily, but more on my personal assessment - my experience and knowledge of the person (even if that’s limited to reading their work or listening to an interview with them). I may be “copying” someone, as opposed to taking their advice. This is how I (and many other autistic people) have navigated life - observing others for ideas of what the “right” thing to do or way to be is, and then following suit. The problem is that I can only see what is on the outside, what is visible to me. I don’t really know or understand the deeper picture, the full story.
I notice another aspect of my judginess as well - the sudden righteousness that manifests when I adopt a behavior. When I stopped drinking, for example, I very quickly found myself falling into the mindset that drinking was bad, that there was no “healthy” way to drink, that all drinkers were alcoholics who hadn’t yet realized it. But, just days before I had been a regular drinker who enjoyed alcohol (for the most part responsibly) for over twenty years. Now that I’ve made the personal decision to stop drinking, suddenly all drinkers are unaware alcoholics, abusing an addictive substance while trying to pretend they are sophisticated connoisseurs with discriminating tastes who are enjoying the fruits of their status and accomplishments. Some don’t pretend, of course, they just drink the cheap stuff for reasons I never quite understood. Perhaps thinking that I’m “above” that behavior becomes a reason to maintain my abstinence.
Or when I started exercising more vigorously. For most of my adult life I had a physically and emotionally healthy habit of long daily walks, often incorporated into my commute to work, that brought me great exercise and pleasure (and I marveled at how efficiently I incorporated exercise into my day). But once I discovered running and cross country skiing, I found that I would harshly admonish myself if I “just walked” for exercise one day instead of doing something that made me sweat and breath heavily. This, despite the fact that daily walking had helped me maintain great physical health, a healthy weight, and psychological respite and rejuvenation for decades.
Perhaps I am sorting through all this, again, because I’m looking for a way out. I want to allow myself to enjoy sleeping in on occasion, to have a glass of wine with my wife and relax in her company, to skip the morning exercise when it’s unpleasant out and just go for a walk later or take a day of physical rest. That is probably an oversimplification - another story in my head. The truth is always more complicated. Each of my obsessions, or preoccupations, or sources or judgment, is a little unique. Each has a root in some deeply buried corner of my psychology, waiting to be excavated by a therapist.
As I write this, the clock has advanced past the point where I would normally be starting my exercise. But, today I am trying to let myself rest. The fact that it’s -4 degrees fahrenheit, and that I have an extreme cramp in my calf that makes it painful to even walk around the house, are helpful circumstances. Still, I suspect I’ll be unsatisfied later, perseverating on the fact that I missed a day, that my step count is in the single digits, that I haven't broken a sweat or gotten my heart rate up. I’ll be reminding myself that it’s OK to rest for a day, that I need to let my body heal, that I’ll be back out there soon. I won’t really believe it, though - deep down I’ll know that I’m only trying to make myself feel better. I’ve developed a self awareness about the stories that cycle through my head, but I haven’t yet figured out how to make them quiet down.