Why do we have to put a label on it?

I am a huge fan of the television show "The Big Bang Theory." I've heard different people say why they love watching it or will never watch. For me, I enjoy watching it because I am very much like Dr. Sheldon Cooper. That was brought home in a real way on the episode "The Closet Reconfiguration." In this episode, as one can see from the preview, Sheldon organizes Howard and Bernadette's closet and he enjoys it. To explain why this hits close to home I have to tell you what high school was like for me.

In July 1995 my family moved from Fresno, California, where we had lived for the past 9 years, to Texas City, Texas. The move occurred roughly 2 weeks before the first day of high school. I went from a place where I knew the majority of the people who would attend school with me, where my best friends went to school, etc to a place where I knew absolutely no one. For an introvert teenager, this was possibly the most traumatizing experience I could have had.

My dad gave me $5 the first day of school to buy my lunch. I did not know where the cafeteria was exactly and when I walked into the Student Center there were so many people it overwhelmed me. Too much noise. Too many colors. I didn't have a map and I couldn't see the walls. I panicked and ended up in the girl's restroom, locked in a stall until it was time to go to Ms. Bergeron's Algebra class. The next day, I made myself a sandwich, grabbed a can of pineapple juice and went to school with an extra book in my backpack.

When I got to school that day my lunch period had been changed. No big deal since I wasn't planning on eating in the cafeteria or talking to anyone. I sat down right inside the door to the Student Center, pulled out my sandwich and proceeded to read a book, slipping into that fictional world pretending the sea of humanity wasn't about to drown me. I heard someone say hello about 20 minutes later and looked up to see a girl holding a sandwich and a book. She asked if she could sit down. I didn't see why not. The next thing she did was probably the bravest thing I think any teenager could do.

She looked me square in the eye and told me she had just moved, didn't know a soul in the school, had a horrible day the day before and wanted to know if she could eat lunch with me every day so she wouldn't be alone. There were only two off-limits topics to our friendship: politics and religion. This was fine by me. Every day for a year she and I ate our sandwiches together in the exact same spot and talked about the books we were reading. We didn't have one class together. She joined the swim team and I sang in the Varsity and A Capella choirs.

The next year, we did the exact same thing. Until this creepy guy walked over, squatted practically on my lap, and asked us if either of us had a boyfriend. She was cool and lied. I do not handle people being that close to me or boxing me in and told the truth. He wanted to know if he could be my boyfriend. I told him no. We never ate in the student center again. I asked my English teachers if she and I could eat in their office in exchange for organizing the textbook/storage closet. They agreed and she and I spent every lunch period our Sophomore and Junior years eating in their office and organizing this mess of paperback books, bulletin board trim, etc. We even hung out with the Academic Decathlon team because they met during our lunch period. (Coincidentally, that is how I got to go to Europe when I was 16 and how I got hired for a job with the School District for which I never applied.)

I loved organizing that closet. If they had kicked us out and sent us back to the masses, I don't think I would have handled high school as well as I did. I know I wouldn't have handled it as well if it hadn't been for her friendship those horrible years. Every time I'm in a new situation, that's my first inclination: can I clean something, do the dishes, help in anyway so I don't actually have to talk and socialize with others. If a picture is hanging crooked, I will stare at it and most of the time ask if I can fix it. Not because you need it to be straight but because that is all I can see in the room.

Wednesday, 13 March 2013, the cast and producers of "The Big Bang Theory" did a Q&A panel at PaleyFest in California. They opened up questions to the audience and someone asked if they had intended Sheldon to have Asperger's when they envisioned the idea for the show. One of the producers gave the best answer I have ever heard. He said that that was not the intention. All they know is the history of the character that has been revealed to the audience: his mother had him tested and there was nothing wrong with him. While he does exhibit symptoms of someone who is on the Autism Spectrum, there is no diagnosis. He is who he is and we need to remove the labels and allow people to be who they are.

I enjoy shows like "The Big Bang Theory" and "Bones" because they show these intelligent people who don't fit the social norm. The social norm is also something that I find ridiculous. We are told to think outside the box but Heaven forbid you don't conform to the box. Sheldon says what he thinks and does what he does without apology. He and Bones are very similar in that if you present them with an idea in a logical way for them to consider, such as why your viewpoint should be considered valid, they will consider it.  It is not a desire to argue or be dramatic or start a fight or express offense. It is simply asking questions, explaining where you're coming from, and looking at another person's perspective.

Many people do not realize, and I am so grateful that these shows have presented this to society, many people who are academically smart or come off as arrogant or--to some people--as creating "unintentional" drama, are very sensitive emotionally. We ask questions because we do not understand your behaviour or why you think we are odd for finding joy in organizing your closets or straightening your picture frames. Our skin is not that thick and so we protect ourselves behind our work and our books. Some things we truly don't care about but when you label us for the things we enjoy or for simply being ourselves, it can be painful.

I didn't realize it wasn't okay to discuss detailed clinical observations from a case study of Jack the Ripper or describe the surgical procedure of open heart surgery while eating dinner until someone pointed out that they couldn't eat during that type of conversation. I can so thought everyone could. When we knew my dad was going to be having a liver transplant, I checked out a book from the library on the specific surgical procedure. I thought my dad would like to know how they were going to cut him up, so I started to tell him how they were going to slice him up. That didn't go over the way I thought it would. Luckily, I had a thoughtful friend and a dad who understood me so they were able to explain in a non-judgemental, logical way WHY they would prefer that I refrain from discussing certain topics with them a specific times. Others have not been so kind or understanding.

Society seems to ask the bird to swim with the fish and then cannot understand why the bird is struggling or dying and the bird doesn't understand why the fish swim away instead of including the bird. We simply ask that you allow us to fly and not label us according to an invisible rulebook we don't understand or many times see as irrelevant. We are who we are and you either like us or you don't. The fact of the matter is, the bird and the fish see different things and should take the opportunity to learn from one another instead of judging.