Read Online Be Different: Adventures of a Free-Range Aspergian With Practical Advice for Aspergians, Misfits, Families & Teachers by John Elder Robison - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John Elder Robison
Tags: Self-Help
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that. “A famous scientist used that same argument as a reason to believe in God.”
Faced with a world of threats, what is a tyke to do? I pondered that question long and hard. I kept my window shut at night so dinosaurs and monsters couldn’t smell me or find a way in to get me. It got hot sometimes, but the safety was worth the discomfort. I read about kids who vanished and the only clue was an open window.
Nessie?
With my window safely closed, my second line of defense was the bed. Before getting in, I always checked underneath to make sure nothing was hiding down there. Then I made sure my toes were always covered, because you never knew what might grab them if they were exposed in the dark. My head stuck out, but there was nothing I could do about that because I knew I’d suffocate if I buried my head in the blankets.
Sometimes
, I figured,
you just have to take a chance
.
I knew some kids covered their heads, but that was really dangerous. We breathe oxygen, but air contains a bunch of other gases besides the oxygen we need. That’s why people say things like, “Give me some fresh air.” They want air that is full of oxygen, not recycled air that other people have already breathed, where the oxygen is all used up.
That’s the problem with burying yourself alive in blankets. You have stale breathed air on the inside and fresh life-giving air on the outside. So covering my head might well be a form of suicide, where I just passed out and died from lack of oxygen. According to my mother, that’s what happened when you put a plastic bag on your head. She warned me about that, lots of times. I didn’twant to die, so I didn’t cover my head with plastic bags or blankets. But I did cover every other part of my body with a blanket, and did everything else I could think of to protect myself from something that would sneak into my room late at night and eat me.
And dinosaurs weren’t the only things I decided to be leery of. Everywhere I looked, there were threats. The kids around me were unpredictable. Teachers were just waiting to pounce on me, and punish me for fun. Strangers were worse—they lurked outside the school, waiting to kidnap unwary kids. Whom could I trust? It seemed like my parents were safe, and maybe a few kids, but that was about it.
With all that, you might think I was a scared little kid, but I really wasn’t. I was just cautious. Cautious and wary. And prepared.
I don’t fear monsters anymore. Even if Nessie is real, she’s not going to get me in Amherst, Massachusetts, ninety miles from the ocean. Yet my fear of covering my head with blankets seemed so rational and sensible that I carried it into adulthood. I actually stopped thinking of my wariness to put my head under the covers as a fear. It was like jumping off a bridge—something you just don’t do.
I was firm in that belief until I got into an innocent conversation with my friend Diane. We were talking about wintertime when she said, “I like to get completely under the covers where it’s nice and warm. I pull the blankets right over my head!” I was shocked to hear that. Maybe an ignorant child would do such a thing, but her? Even as an adult, I am always aware of the dangers of insufficient oxygen. I looked at her as she uttered that amazing and reckless statement.
She doesn’t look brain damaged
.…
I broached the subject gently. “Aren’t you afraid of suffocating with a blanket on your head?” She looked at me like I was nuts. “No,” she said, in that firm voice teenagers use when addressing total fools.
“Aren’t you worried that there won’t be enough fresh air under the blanket?” I persisted even though her obvious dismissal of my idea made me think there just might be a flaw in my reasoning.
She is a grown-up, after all, so it didn’t kill her. And she raised three kids that I know of, and none of them suffocated … or did they? Maybe she started with five and these three are all that’s
Faced with a world of threats, what is a tyke to do? I pondered that question long and hard. I kept my window shut at night so dinosaurs and monsters couldn’t smell me or find a way in to get me. It got hot sometimes, but the safety was worth the discomfort. I read about kids who vanished and the only clue was an open window.
Nessie?
With my window safely closed, my second line of defense was the bed. Before getting in, I always checked underneath to make sure nothing was hiding down there. Then I made sure my toes were always covered, because you never knew what might grab them if they were exposed in the dark. My head stuck out, but there was nothing I could do about that because I knew I’d suffocate if I buried my head in the blankets.
Sometimes
, I figured,
you just have to take a chance
.
I knew some kids covered their heads, but that was really dangerous. We breathe oxygen, but air contains a bunch of other gases besides the oxygen we need. That’s why people say things like, “Give me some fresh air.” They want air that is full of oxygen, not recycled air that other people have already breathed, where the oxygen is all used up.
That’s the problem with burying yourself alive in blankets. You have stale breathed air on the inside and fresh life-giving air on the outside. So covering my head might well be a form of suicide, where I just passed out and died from lack of oxygen. According to my mother, that’s what happened when you put a plastic bag on your head. She warned me about that, lots of times. I didn’twant to die, so I didn’t cover my head with plastic bags or blankets. But I did cover every other part of my body with a blanket, and did everything else I could think of to protect myself from something that would sneak into my room late at night and eat me.
And dinosaurs weren’t the only things I decided to be leery of. Everywhere I looked, there were threats. The kids around me were unpredictable. Teachers were just waiting to pounce on me, and punish me for fun. Strangers were worse—they lurked outside the school, waiting to kidnap unwary kids. Whom could I trust? It seemed like my parents were safe, and maybe a few kids, but that was about it.
With all that, you might think I was a scared little kid, but I really wasn’t. I was just cautious. Cautious and wary. And prepared.
I don’t fear monsters anymore. Even if Nessie is real, she’s not going to get me in Amherst, Massachusetts, ninety miles from the ocean. Yet my fear of covering my head with blankets seemed so rational and sensible that I carried it into adulthood. I actually stopped thinking of my wariness to put my head under the covers as a fear. It was like jumping off a bridge—something you just don’t do.
I was firm in that belief until I got into an innocent conversation with my friend Diane. We were talking about wintertime when she said, “I like to get completely under the covers where it’s nice and warm. I pull the blankets right over my head!” I was shocked to hear that. Maybe an ignorant child would do such a thing, but her? Even as an adult, I am always aware of the dangers of insufficient oxygen. I looked at her as she uttered that amazing and reckless statement.
She doesn’t look brain damaged
.…
I broached the subject gently. “Aren’t you afraid of suffocating with a blanket on your head?” She looked at me like I was nuts. “No,” she said, in that firm voice teenagers use when addressing total fools.
“Aren’t you worried that there won’t be enough fresh air under the blanket?” I persisted even though her obvious dismissal of my idea made me think there just might be a flaw in my reasoning.
She is a grown-up, after all, so it didn’t kill her. And she raised three kids that I know of, and none of them suffocated … or did they? Maybe she started with five and these three are all that’s
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