Running To the Hills From a “Welcome” Sign
Passed by a Church recently. This one had a particularly heart-warming sign placed at the entrance: “Welcome! We are so glad you are here!”. I even paused for a few seconds, glancing through the glass doors, where some sort of a check-in was visible in the lobby. “A nice one. At least they try…” was my verdict about the sign, as I resumed to be on my way.
Not that I developed any pressing need to seek religious guidance. But if I were, even this sign would not alleviate my reluctance to enter. Not in the least.
Usually, churches, of any denominations, entice me to enter about as good as an unknown mysterious cave. Meaning, caution, complete unfamiliarity of a situation ahead, frustration alert on highest setting, avoid at all costs.
So whenever I want to ponder over my socializing failures, entering a Church comes to mind as an ultimate example of a friendly, yet still unbearably frustrating social situation.
In part, the reason must be that I was raised an atheist, and never had an experience in my childhood of visiting a Church. Seeing such situation in movies did not help to fill the gap, because the movies never show the complete process. So, all I concocted in my mind was a disparate mix of random actions, not connected in any sequence, most likely derived from incompatible experiences. All I imagine is that it’s something about candles, also listening to a sermon, also they sometimes sing together. No idea how to get from point of entry to the point when you start participating in any of such activities. Needless to say that this is a woefully inadequate state of readiness for an autistic.
There is another reason of my reluctance to enter such social institution, that considers creating a community it’s primary purpose. There is this phenomenon of a loner entering a social event, only to experience it still alone, never connecting with anyone. I came up with my own label for such phenomenon: “oil and water”. I will be writing more on this subject, as it seems significant to me.
Within hypothetical scenario of joining one of those local communal Churches, this phenomenon would play out about as following. Lets say I somehow managed to “join a Church” (although as of this writing I have no idea how this is achieved). Lets say, I come, alone, to their next meeting. What do I observe there upon entering? People, all already linked between each other by close connections and friendships. There will be some sort of askance glances at me. So, I take an available seat, the event starts. I do what others do (clapping, raising from your seat, singing, etc). Then the event is finished, I get up from my seat, say excuse me to a few people when I need to get past them. May be I would also say thank you to someone like an organizer. And go home. This saying excuse me and/or thank you would be my only engagement with anyone at the event. That’s what I call an oil and water experience.
I did experience this phenomenon for real, on several occasions in my life. One such situation, sadly, was when I tried attending an autistic support group. This is a sensitive subject to me, brings up sad memories. I will write a separate blog entry on that story. Since I did experience this phenomenon for real, I developed a strong apprehension of joining any social events.
Yet another layer to my apprehension must arise from my generally introverted nature. This aspect of social incompatibility was well described in “Quiet” by Susan Cain. As the introverts described in the book, I also shun participating in any group “rejoicing” or adulation that I tend to perceive as shallow over zealous frenzies.
So, besides alleviating my apprehension due to vague idea of the procedures, I am afraid that for any spiritual community to convince me or someone like me to join, they would need to also offer a prospect of thoughtful contemplation is addition to all that clamoring.
Takeaways?
For organizers of any community, wishing to improve their outreach to autistics and loners, I guess it follows to find ways to alleviate the hindrances I described. See if you can clearer promote specific steps a novice will be taking upon joining. As for the issue I called oil and water, try to imagine a loner joining your community. Play out in your mind their day of attendance. At what points they will have an opportunity of meaningful interaction with others, beyond basic pleasantries or formalities? Can you pinpoint any?
In Conclusion
How does this label “oil and water” sound? Is there a more common phrase describing same thing?
Would be interested to reminisce about your similar experiences.
