Worthless

Worthless is

Looking in a mirror, and not seeing your own face

Walking in sand, leaving no footprints

Being a shadow, an outline, empty, hollow

Never feeling wanted, usefull, needed

Feeling no ground beneath invisible, naked feet

Whispering in a forest

Pinching yourself to make sure you are real and can feel

Eagerly anticipating therapy, because someone listens to you there

An empty plate and being okay with that

Giving your shoes, to a person that has no feet

Being on no ones speed dial

There is no knock at the door, no invitation in the mail

Nobody believing you when you are telling your truth

Your voice carrying no farther than your own ears

Wonder if anyone cares or knows where you are

Sleeping on concrete

Finding friendship in a glass, a bottle, needle or smoke

Never having cake and giving away the pie

Feeding everyone else, taking none for yourself

A penny cut in half

Half a zipper

An apple core

A glass with a hole in the bottom

A shoe without soul

A beach without water

Garbage that refuses to leave the curb

Having no demands just whatever's

Paint without a brush

A watch with no hands

Trying to stay numb and not want

It's safe and true to say that all of my life, I have felt absolutely worthless

I can count on one hand, the peoples that I have truly connected with...at least...for a while, a short spell, a season, through one storm or another.

I am not pleasant sunshine....I am the clouds.

I am the rock, alone, on the shore, in the ocean that the sea flows around but never moves

I stand amongst a bustling crowd watching the people's go this way or that...but no one stops...no one can see me there...for I make nary a sound...even as I drag these heavy, noisy chains.

The island has flowed out farther...to the sea...to the sea

It's just me

I lived in utter, unspoken desperation...so painful, silent screaming, inner torment, never believing I deserved any better than scrapes. I'll share the dog dish, just don't throw me out on the street. To keep a roof over my head, I would bend, twist and completely contort. Cause no trouble, follow the rules, take whatever little morsel was given. I allowed myself to be passed around and tossed aside. Adrift in water a mile deep

I wore the chains they gave me. I knew not that I could take them off.

Worthlessness, desperation, lostness, loneliness, hopeless, cold, vacant, empty,confusion, resignation, invalid, unwanted, unmissed, unwarranted, useless, vagrant, beggar, drifter, loiterer, weak, I just wanted someone to care, someone to look for me, to find me, make me real

A Tale of Woe

After writing the previous post...a flood of surpressed, long hidden and denied emotion. Wow, that's just plain sad. I was trying to think of a time when I felt...wanted. I know that from time to time people have needed me, but who even wants to be around me?

Maybe it's the barbed wire necklace, but no one seeks out and asks for, enjoys my company. I've trained my friends and acquaintances well. Other than my Partner and my boys, no one calls me up tp chat, get together, ask my advice, share a story or new recipe...sometimes I feel just as invisible as when I was homeless.

Are my walls still so impenetrable? Is there continually a small neon sign on my forehead that says, "go away"? Is my introversion and reclusivity so vehement that I am such poor company? Am I rude, crass and so self-absorbed to be on the do not call or bother list? If I disappeared tomorrow, how long before anyone would notice?

I am in the same sense of space and place as I was twenty years ago. Maybe this is my norm and personal best. Well blow me away. I just don't know what to think. It appears that, in some ways I have grown, but in others I am completely unchanged. I take full responsibility for my shortcomings and lack of interactions. Hey, I'm the one directing this show....I just didn't know what was playing...until now. Suddenly....I see. And it doesn't make me happy.

I am really good if you need someone to use or abuse, just ask my parents. But who or what am I? People don't want to be around me. Am I still breathing and behaving like the Pyrrha of my youth and younger days.

I'm suddenly struck down with deep sadness and awareness.

Truth be told...I don't want to walk alone.

It's like I've suddenly discovered what's been missing all along. Another one of those things that may very well be completely out of my reach.

I'm not the wise sage living atop the mountain that people seek out.

I am the hermit, inthe cave, that people are warned to avoid.

This is the very same conundrum...the chess board hasn't changed and neither have the pieces. I throw down the queen, stand up and walk away.

Nowhere to Run

Even now, some twenty years since my last psychiatric hospitalization, I hesitate, slightly shudder and debate whether I will be able to find the right words to convey a very troublesome time in my life.

You see, I used to come to points, in my life, where I felt mired in quicksand, completely immobilized and unable to formulate a way out. I had nowhere to run...so I would breakdown and get admitted, voluntarily or involuntarily to a psychiatric hospital.

The first time this happened, I was 25. My three year marriage had run its course. My then husband who was twice my age and a Vitenam vet with post traumatic stress along with poor mental and physical health, had helped propel us into pure financial ruin. I was forced into the role of bread winner. My stress level had peaked and my brain and body shutdown. I stopped speaking, eating and being anything resembling functional.

At first, the idea of becoming an inpatient was terribly frightening as my only experience with psych hospitals was the movie, "One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest", which did not paint a flattering picture on the mental ward. But really, seriously, I had no choice. I was pert near catatonic.

The psych ward at Sparrow Hospital was just plain strange, foreign and inviting. I wasn't forced to do anything. People, therapists actually wanted to talk to me and they kind of listened. I met other people there. Regular looking sorts of people. I recall the depressed young man who got his then girlfriend pregnant in he back of his camaro because he used a Baggie instead of a condom. He felt trapped in his marriage.

There was the young man who worked for a state senator who was questioning the morality of his job. Then there was the adolescent who ran around, jumping on furniture saying, "Shazam" and juggling imaginary balls. The only woman, I recall, was a delicate twentish pregnant woman who was battling depression and trying to remain medication free. She had the privelage of having her own room. I'd interact with these peoples for group therapies and outings. We'd sit around, drink coffee, tell stories and cry.

Mostly, I remember the forest green carpet that flowed into every corner. It looked so soft and inviting. It felt like a very strange vacation and temporary, surreal removal from all that was real. It was a respite from reality. I stayed for two weeks and figured out that I wanted out of my marriage. I called my Gramma. She offered that I could come and live with her and Gramps. She even voluntarily paid for my divorce.

My first hospitalization helped me to find my next step. I proceeded to go to the psych ward about once every year or two, whenever I found myself stuck.

Before my disability payments started, I lived with whomever would take me in. After many months, I felt I was taking advantage of Grammas kind nature. I moved on and lived with one of my sisters. Then we moved in with an aunt. Oh my, there were a couple very brief stints of living with complete strangers...scary to even think about now. I lived in one woman's basement, because she needed the rent money. Another time, my therapist suggested I live with this Christian couple and another mentally ailing roommate.

Wow, it never ceases to amaze my how much insight and clarity emerges from the simple act of writing. For all intents and purposes, I truly was homeless for about two years. I had zero stability, no one to hold onto, no place to call my own and zero self-worth. I felt completely and utterly lost onto the world. There was no security, no one to talk to, just pure dumb luck survivalism.

I remember the feeling, the lostness and unworthiness. I felt so very scare and all alone. There was no one to hear my tears. I buried my fear and just did whatever people told me to do.

I slept in strange beds and associated with even stranger people.

I had nothing.

I was nothing.

I was the beggar on the street, except with nicer clothes. I kept my hands in my pocket and just prayed that someone would throw me a bone...or a warn, foreign bed, or a leaky roof.

Low self-esteem or downright aspieirritation and nonconformity, would force me to move frequently, usually every two to three weeks. I know what it's like to be a nobody, a castoff and castaway. I know the empty, hollow feeling of being completely unwanted and unneeded. For years, I have been on my broken, bleeding knees, with both hands outstretched.

No one wanted me...not even me.

My days were spent either trying to figure out the current house rules or searching for escape. Where would I sleep tomorrow? I was a speck of dust in a chaotic wind. I was an annoying burr waiting to adhere to the next living thing that strode by. I was the gum on the sidewalk, that someone spit out last Tuesday. I spent my days dumpster diving and my nights lying awake in fear.

My social ineptness and constant moving prevented my from attempting friendships. Seems like this was the time in my life that my only "friends", the only peoples I spoke with were psychologists, social workers and therapists.

I can't count how many times, how many hours, I simply sat in my car because I had no place to go. I was just an empty shell. I was a nobody.

I Live in a world...

I live in a world where I seek the right direction but the signs are all upside down, backwards and skewed. The path of least resistance is fraught with thorns and blisters as sharp, innocent looking pebbles arise from nowhere and cut my feet. This town I wander through as no discernible name, or not one that I can pronounce, anyway.

I can't tell if they are all speaking the same language or naught. The accent is so foreign and thick.

They all wear the same expressions but each carries a different meaning. Their faces fall and whisper, hushed tones and secrets unbeknownst to me. The paper masks, on Popsicle sticks, wave to and fro with the slightest hint of breeze. Their words, how strange, each word has a dozen meanings...but they all fall onto my deaf ears.

No longer do I believe their feigned smiles or open hand. Too oft it simple ends in a slap. My face has grown red and sore. The thousand page dictionary that I need for each encounter, grows heavy and cumbersome. I set it on the low shelf. It makes a hearty bookend.

She walked with tiny tornadoes twisting about her. I see her face and no longer know what, if anything, it means.

My weary, holy rucksack, ascends from the floor. I pull on my hood and shag it low enough to partially cover my eyes and the view. I leave my two cents on the counter. There are no farewells, just another dashed hope and series of misspoken words. I'll leave it to the barkeeper to figure out. I don't really want to spend any more time nose deeply imbedded in that dictionary manual thingy

trying to figure this one out. I was reading it all wrong anyway.

I am this mixed up box of jingle this and resounding that. I try so hard to adhere to my moral compass and keep it pointed in the right direction. If only the earth wouldn't shift so dramatically and without warning.

I just want to do what is right, fair and the bestest. I want a quiet life with gentle friends and mini, harmless adventures. I want to be able to adjust to the unexpected ups and downs without needing surgical or psychiatric intervention. I can stand on a pedestal, as long as I build it and alternate between standing upon it and being the crowd.

I want my whispers to be heard and my words to be taken seriously, or, at least taken into account, stamped with a Validation sticker, and contemplated.

I complain and whine, to no avail, because I know where my reality lies...it's borders and fringe. Time to put that bottle down and fall off this stool.

I like my Shoes

I have unusual affection and a deep attachment to my shoes. Currently, I own 2 pair in good working order. I typically buy one pair a year, and wear them almost everyday throughout spring, summer, fall and the milder spells of winter.

When I purchase a brand new pair, the year old shoes hangout on the shelf in the garage for rough outdoor use. Thus encompasses my shoe buying and rotation schedule. It's not too complex...just the way I like it.

I feel very strongly, obsessively so, about my footwear. I decided to wander around through the valley of thoughts, memories and remembrances in an attempt to discover from whence these feelings arise.

I can easily guess, that one of the reasons I become so attached, is because I wear the same pair for hours, each and everyday. They are like an extension f my foot, an outermost skin. The sheer number of hours, days and months that we spend in intimate contact breeds fondness:)

From the "free association" point-of-view, shoes are freedom....I am running, running, up a gently ascending hill, on a soft bed of white, crushed limestone. The sun shines. A cool, shaded forest beckons along my left. I appear as I did when I was thirteen. My face...impassive and slightly determined. I have no worries, in this vision, I just want everyone to leave me alone so that I can just run.

If I have no shoes, I cannot walk. I cannot escape. I can go nowhere, unless I have a pair of shoes.

Hmmm, unsettling thoughts arise from ages past and times long forgotten. Ensuing panic of a small child that had outgrown her shoes, to the point that a parent had to cut off the shoe toe part, so that her growing feet had something to wear. I remember what a helpless feeling that was...wondering how I could just be able to go outside, if I had no shoes. I would be trapped. Immense sadness filled me, as I suddenly believed that I might become a prisoner of indoors, my parents house. I was quite terrified at that prospect.

There wasn't any money to spare, so I was always very grateful when we went to Meijers on new shoe day. To this day, I do not take shoes for granted. In a backward, aspiesense, they are a link to the outside, the out of doors and outside the confines of my head.

I really like my shoes.

Social Awkwardness, Socially Inept

Time for more truths and views from inside this Aspie mind of mine.

The vast majority of social situations, acquaintances and friendship styme the hell out of me. Frequently I can tell if someone likes me...I am just clueless as to what degree. Do they like me and never want to see me again? Do they want me to call? Will they say hello and chat when I see them in the hallway or at the store? Or did they like me when I first met them and the conversation lasted too long and now they want nothing to do with me?

I have no idea when someone is trying to get rid of me or give me the brush-off. When is a person telling the truth...."I'll call when I get the chance" or do they really, quietly and politely want me to go away? Was our last conversation abrupt...or did they really have an appointment to get to?

To sum it up: I don't know when someone likes me, if and when they want to get together and, most importantly, when they want me to go away.

When I say that the common, everyday friendships and acquantances cause me great confusion...trust me...I kid you not.

When I can't make sense of things and suffer from hours of confusion due to an external situation....just giving it up and flying solo looks pretty damn good!

They just don't make manuals for this shit And Every Single relationship is Different!!

Bite Me!!! Relationships Suck!!!

I Am Simplistic

Well, I was going to title this post, "I am a Simpleton" but I looked up the meaning of simpleton and Big Red said a simpleton is defined as being a fool. Whilst that may be true, I more agree with simplistic as I enjoy things in my life being as easy and uncomplicated as possible.

I don't ask much from life. The first item that actually comes to mind is...I don't want to be hungry. Hunger is a ravaging beast. I spent so many days, weeks, and years in pursuit of nothing more than a decent, wholesome bite to eat that food is the number one thing that I request from life.

Shelter and warmth would be the second items on my list of wants and needs. Those two conditions provide me with a sturdy foundation and sense of safety and security. I very much enjoy shelter and warmth.

Growing up, I kept asking God for a number of things: food to eat, heat for the house and for warm bath water ( you may have already guessed this, but as a child heat from the furnace and hot water heater were quite sporadic. When bills could not be paid the gas bill was the first to suffer.) ; that my father would meet a swift and untimely death (okay, I do understand why God did not fulfill this prayer...I get it); that I would stop being beaten and raped, and that I would have a swift and early, hopefully painless death (again, I do understand God not answering this prayer.)

Thus, some of my most heartfelt prayers have been answered. I can't remember the last time I went hungry. My boys have never once experienced empty cupboards...which is absolutely huge in my book.

I guess there is something that I did forget to ask God for. Someone to love, adore and worship me, exactly as I am. Maybe that is, the idea of a simpleton.

See, I am beautiful, kind and caring and most deserving of love and adoration. I know and believe that. I guess I wish that was innately understood by others.

I think that I am a kind, caring and considerate individual. I believe that I am doing my bestest. Granted, with my autism and abused child mentality, my bestest does not show through or is equal to other people without A(autism) and A(abuse mentality). I get that. But it doesn't make me less worthy of receiving respect, compassion and love.

Looking around me, I have a lot of wonderful things to keep me from struggling and stressing. Do I even have the right to ask for more?

Do I sometimes feel that I am entitled to and am deserving of a little more? I wonder.

I am a wonderful, pretty damn amazing individual. That I do know for sure.

Be well.

I Miss the Feeling

I miss that feeling that I have hit a little bump, but everything is going to be okay. You know, the ol, I've slipped and fell but I can get up. That feeling, that small ray of hope....I miss it

Emotional vs Physical Pain

Hi again. I'm oscillating between sharing my issues and concerns at risk of being crowned queen of idioticdom. What's worse, the confusion or the risk. I don't know...I don't know much these days.

I heartily miss my imprisoned son..but it doesn't do any good to mention or acknowledge it. Nothing anyone can do about it anyway and it's been a long running storyline. The feeling of his loss comes and goes. I try not to think about it too much as that type of emotional pain makes me want to scream.

Emotional pain is quite real. Not sure who will believe that or not. I think, yet am unsure, that I feel emotional pain quite acutely and more sharply than most. I have no comparison so add another IDK, I don't know, in there.

Body memories are also real pain. They are a mixture of emotional and physical pain. Say that someone grabbed your arm and twisted it behind your back, sharply and soundly, for ten minutes causing excruciating pain. Then say that you could only handle the intensity of the pain for two minutes before you disassociated, left your body to go hide in the inner, far reaches of your mind. Those eight minutes of physical, body pain are still hanging around. Sometimes they, the body memories, resurface. I would have used the more common example of being raped and overwhelmed but, maybe you get the idea. If not goggle body memories. Some things are rather difficult to mention.

Regular, everyday physical pain...I handle with great irregularity and little semblance of sense. Take my recent TMD, jaw pain incident. The first five days, when my jaw was so swollen that it was pressing on my trigeminal nerve, sending shooting pain thru half my face...that pain I probably felt identically as a Neuro-typical would. Nerve pain is quite severe. On day six when the nerve calmed down, I was left with regular ol displaced, swollen jaw pain which was about 50% as painful as the nerve thingy.

So I continued to religiously take my Motrin and I could easily tell when my dose was due as the pain and swelling increased. I could feel and visually see when it was med time. My jaw has continued healing to the point where I am forgetting to take meds at the regular intervals. Let's say this pain is a four on a ten scale, with ten being intolerable. Once the pain gets below five, I don't recognize it in the normal way. Instead of physically feeling and noticing the pain...I get irritable, crabby and my hands twitch a whole lot more than usual. It's almost as if I am somewhat numb to the actual, local pain, but my body still hurts and tells my hands to tic so that I'll take my pills.

This is simply another one of those things that makes no sense. Another example...my back was sore from a little overwork. I didn't recognize the back pain, rather, once again, I became extremely irritable. As soon as I thought about it, took some meds, than I could tell that I must have been in pain.

Forgetting has it's disadvantages. I'll try eating a semi-normal meal or talk for an hour and then I am more acutely reminded that I need to take it easy...take smaller bites, talk less. Oh yes, I am reminded that I forgot, surely and sorely.

It's like I easily recognize pain when it's at ten, but if it drops to anywhere below five I am at a complete loss. I remember the gallbladder surgery. The scenario was the same. As long as I took prescribed doses at exact times, I was ok. But if I missed one dose, the pain quickly roared back up to a ten.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that my sense of pain is complicated. I don't always know when my body is in physical pain. Emotional pain sometimes presents as body pain. And body memories are very real physio-emotional pains.

Here's the thing. All you need to know...if I tell you I am in pain, I am. It may not make sense in your head, you and I may not understand it but it is real. Bottom line.

Lots to say but verbally challenged..weird dude

I've been trying for three days to write a single post. Seems that there is so much that I want to say that the kettle is boiling over into one big mess. I'm going to try and separate out all the ingrediants. It may not make perfect sense now, but in a couple of days maybe things will congeal, separate out and I'll have the semblance of a handle on things....maybe I can make some sense.

First off, I don't have the ability to sound out words. I learned to read by pure memorization as I think the brain device that can sound out words, is completely missing in my head.

If I come across a word that I havent experienced before, I am stymied and stuck. I have to just spell the word out, letter by letter, instead of trying to figure how the word is said. Then I store the written word, along with a visual picture in case I run across the word again.

When speaking with someone and they present a new word that is not in my memory banks, I frequently have to ask the person to spell it out, three or four times before I can attempt to process it and add it to my mental dictionary.

I have an incredible photogenic memory and I did really well on my spelling tests so no one, teachers felt that I needed more help understanding spelling and sounding out words.

Another thing, that makes me feel pretty stupid, is that I use words, big words and I have no idea what they mean. Here's the weirdy thing...I use them perfectly appropriately but have no idea what they mean. My Eldest and I also share the same penchant for being (see, I knew I wanted to use the word "penchant" and I did, then I had to look it up in the dictionary for the definition. I think I would know how to pronounce it correctly, but I'm just not sure.) able to solve algebraic problems of a medium difficulty...but we don't know how we arrive at the correct answer. Its like we know that x+y=z, but we have no clue what y is. Once again, teachers in school admired the right answers but were a bit upset that we would fail to write out how we came to the solution. Sometimes we simply do not know. Math teachers were not all that interested in showing and reshowing the much needed formula because we already had the answer right. They had no idea of the sheer frustration of not knowing or comprehending the formula. It was enormously irritating to go from x to z and never being able to comprehend y.

Well, that actually does cover one of my topics of interest. Whew. On to the next

Invalid entry

There's nothing like being completely invalidated by someone you trusted, believed in and admired. Feels like I'm a goldfish in a barrel...swimming upside down.

Because my emotions become physical sensation. Because my past resurfaces in my present. Wrong answer. Invalid. Try harder next time. Stop seeking attention by faking illness. Stop being who you are, enough of this autistic shit and survivor mentality. Yeah, you can suck it.

It seems so hopeless at times...

Trying to figure it all out. Working to find the words that express and convey how I operate and feel. Sometimes, you just have to play the hand you are dealt....swimming in the quagmire, hoping your toes continue to touch bottom and that that Really is a life preserver off to the left.

A number of events have transpired....wish I knew how to wager and educatingly guess. Wish there was a mighty oracle or sacred book that would magically appear, flopping open to the appropriate page with detailed, easy to follow instructions. Yeah, and little green leprechauns will magically appear and carry me off to the wee little land of fun, easy street and trees that grow gold.

Kinda useless...frustrating...confusing...upside down and askew. I'm not even sure what progress is...in answer to the question posed in my head...I don't even know...how to measure or what to measure against, compare to.

This is crazyass shit and I will not even raise my hand, for I know not what the answers...but I want to raise my hand. And ask....for a little, heap of clarity here

Why does my world turn on a dime and unbeknownst to me? When I'm not looking? When I turn my back?

Sometimes it feels like I'm dead already...locked in a room, my hand on the doorknob that refuses to turn.

I don't relish confusion, pain that is hard to quantify, too much going on, demands and expectations, forced meanings, unwritten rules, mandatory this and required that. I don't like that the thick, shiny, metal chain with links seven inches long was severed with a single axe blow. I don't like it but it is.

Tired of the arguing, controlling, juvenile tendencies and mother may i's. It's just a bunch of bullshit and my hands are filthy dirty

Bathroom Bunkers, Hiding Out in Restrooms

Hmm, I hope I'm not giving out too much information here...but this Aspie tends to take refuge in restrooms. Bathrooms are one of the few vestiges that one can linger in and find near perfect privacy. When in doubt...hideout.

If ever the stress of trying to deal in this upside down, Neuro-Typical world becomes too much to bear, seek refuge. In the privacy of the privy one can calm down, space out, spazz out and collect ones thoughts without interruption. People typically respect the sanctity of the almighty commode.

When I venture to new places, new buildings, the first order of business is checking out the restrooms. It's good to know exactly where they are located and whether they are a single, private room or communal with stalls, in case a quick sanctuary is needed. You do not want to start melting down only to casually run to a restroom that's a single with occupant without knowing where another room of respite is located.

I have sought refuge on dozens and dozens of occasions, even within my own house. When you are on the verge of meltdown, stress out, panic, or have completely lost your wits...take the time to calm yourself by counting the tiles of the bathroom floor, read the graffiti on the walls, count to 100 and back again, pop your doctor prescribed medication, or do a little destressing tricky dance and bounce off those walls.

There isn't a time limit on using the bathroom. Use that fact to your advantage.

Just another helpful time from AmyAspie :)

Hmmm

It isn't easy to feel this alone amongst a group of peoples. One must diligently work at it.

How do I feel? In a picture...

As if my right hand is empty and I dare not reach for one of those damn, fragile, thin-skinned glass ornaments because as soon as it is in the palm, of my hand, it will shatter, of it's own accord...or mine, cutting me up into bleeding, jagged pieces. The confusion and hurt of relationships just ain't worth it. I will not reach out and grasp more...

Conventional Wisdom, Doctors Advice

I really liked it, way back when, when doctors were sages and wizards. They'd look in my ears, tell me what's wrong, prescribe a course of treatment and I would be cured. Sometime in my mid-thirties, the myth changed. My body became more high-maintance and oversensitive to medications as my physical symptoms became more diffuse and harder to read.

Lately, I've surmised, that a doctors advice is like a complex little puzzle that I must churn and review, over and over and over again in my hand and mind. I have to figure out how much of the diagnosis is true, along with what my real time medication dosage is, based on my bodies previous reactions to similar medication. This is not an easy process.

I used to hold physicians in the highest of regard, because they used to always be right. Now, every illness is a challenge to be "best-guessed" through.

Case-in-point: yesterday, I grew weary from the incessant pain of the past week. So I succumbed to my doctors original prescription in dosage and duration. I took my meds at the prescribed intervals, at the mandated doses. Boy, did I get screwed. Yes, my pain completely went away, as did any semblance of functionality, as I lay in a heavy, stuporous, sleeping state for about the past twenty hours. I consider it a big, unnecessary price to pay.

Silly me, I heartily enjoy functionality. Once again, I made the mistake of trusting doctors over my own sound, experience-ridden intuition. My body is a high maintenance machine that needs very fine tweaking and highly conscious care. Damn, this was a mistake to ingest the nt sized dosage and not the AmyAspie size. I am learning.

Writing a Book

For the past few months, I have been actively engaged in writing a book. It primarily focuses on my life with Aspergers, as a woman and a mom with two sons, one with Aspergers and my Neuro-Typical boy with a physical disability. My severe child abuse story finally gets told. The secrets, horror and truth are revealed and put into print.

A majority of the information comes from the pages of my blog. I've made chapters out of my most popular and favorite postings, condensing and editing them into easy to read format. I so enjoy sharing the view from inside my world, along with the everyday, hard to see struggles of managing my Aspergian existence in a Neuro-typical world. The past couple of years have provided oodles of insight and awareness that I believe to be beneficial to Aspie and the NT alike.

My healing journey involves sharing the wealth of information and insight.

I have completed one rough draft. In reviewing the manuscript, I have surmised that rough draft #2 is in order. I am committed and dedicated into putting my "all" into this very important project. I can easily see its value and worth.

My life has been anything but ordinary. I am one of those survival stories you used to watch on Oprah, about the person who survived horrendous and insurmountable odds. For years, I lived in the silence, the speechlessness of autism, abuse, confusion and pain. My story needs to be told.

It's time. I want to share who I am. I want to let people in...on the remarkable beauty, insight and strength...that is me. The hiding is over. Let the truth begin.

Trying to figure me out

A number of events have taken place, in the past two weeks, to put almost everything to question. Relationships that I believed were solid, melted away exposing....things I did not know we're there. Misgivings and misunderstandings that I never knew existed. Thought it was foundation turns out not to be the case.

I thought I held a rock...turned out to be dust in the wind.

What I thought was a casual backdrop, has since become a stage with bright shining light.

The understudy has become the star.

You have to learn to be flexible and to respect peoples where they are and how much they choose to be in your life.

I am learning this new thingy about being my own best friend. And I am getting quite good at it. I honor my struggles and victories, even when no one else can see them. I'm kinda content with me and where I am at. It's just some of those peoples outside that have changed and now fly different flags.

Yes, the less I talk and interact, the more visual I become. I've noticed that. Thinking in pictures makes sense to me and is my natural, native tongue.

I know I am often a freight train with my thoughts, feelings and emotions at times. I am aware of my ability to overwhelm and overdoit. I am sooo much more comfortable acknowledging and communicating even with heavy emotion dripping. It's just who I am. And I, my personality and isms, am definitely, definitely not for everyone. It's just a fact, Jack.

I hold my own key now. I take steps in the direction that I Want. I am more in touch with my abilities and I've learned to distinguish an ass from a horse. And I realized its okay to use my voice, my angry voice and call an ass, an ass.

I don't feel wrong or slighted, maybe a bit misunderstood but some days I educate and other time I let others do the homework. Everyday is a mixed bag of mood, mandatories and maybes.

I'm just observing. Watching the little plastic globe and all it's little snowflakes and pieces, shaking, turning topsy-turvy and moving in erratic ways. Funny thing is...I didn't pick it up and shake it.

Shock and Awe

When I suddenly find out...big news or information, I frequently fall into an awake stupor. It's like being on a train at ninety miles an hour and someone pulls the emergency brake. All stop.

Like the proverbial "deer in the headlights" whereby a deer will literally stop dead in its tracks if confronted by bright, blinding light, I am stunned. Whatever thought processes and ideas had been rampant in my brain suddenly cease to exist and disappear into the blackening, foggy mist.

It is a very surreal experience that hasn't happened in many moons. I am stunned. Unable to process or grasp this new information. Or as they say "wrap my brain around it". Hmm, obviously there is an emotional component to this as that is the criteria for stun. Processing, processing......

Dealing with Injury and Abilities

I'm doing fine. My jaw, TMD injury is a whole new arena for me as I have no previous experience with jaw problems. I received pretty good instructions from my dentist. He says it will heal on its own in two-three weeks. I am supposed to take 600 mg Motrin every six hours but that has proven to upset my stomach too much. I take as much as I can comfortably ingest. I supplement with lots of ice packs to help keep the swelling down. I have currently pilfered a bag of rice from the freezer as it can freeze and thaw without damage.

It was also advised that I buy and wear a mouth splint all the time except when eating. Well, I bought the darn thing, followed instructions, tried it twice and gagged both times. It shall not work.

I have the greatest difficulty eating...anything. It appears that jello followed by applesauce are my two foods most consumed with the least discomfort. Idk, I guess one positive of jaw injury with pain is that I have no appetite. Meds require food, thus I comply.

Talking is the second greatest challenge. I had to try and wager whether it would be more beneficial to talk with my therapist or stay home and rest. I went with the therapy appointment because I hadn't really conversed with anyone for awhile. I continue to be ambivalent about whether or not I made the right choice as the ensuing pain was much more than I could have possibly guessed. But it was a good talk:)

I've had a lot of time to think. It's hard to know what is the right thing to do. Like with this injury...it was scary not knowing what it was and I wasn't able to get prompt answers. Maybe the ER would have helped, maybe not. I struggle to be independent and make my own decisions yet I long for friends to talk to and share opinions. I have to realize that my aspiecommonsense limits me a bit at times, but it's all I have to work with. That has to be good enough:) I'm working on learning to live with myself in a healthier way.

I continue to try and figure out what I am capable of, what I need help with and what to try, that which I should give up and, simply, acceptance.

Yeah, life is a bit painful. Not used to injuries that take weeks to heal. I have to be on guard to not overdo things. Teaching both my dog and my boy some new and interesting hand signals. Working on monitoring meds so the pain doesn't get ahead of me. Lots of ice, resting whenever possible. Yeah, I'm doing okay:)

Temporomandibular Disorder..an answer

Finally, finally, finally got in to see My doctor! She said more Vicadin and sent me over to my dentist. Dentist diagnosed me with TMD. Basically when I over extended my jaw to try and out scream my son, I popped the little cushion at my jaw, out of place. Treatment is 2-3 weeks heavy duty Motrin, periodic Vicadin, constant use of the newly bought mouth guard and it should start healing. Recheck in two weeks.

Sources say I was remiss in Not going to the ER for once as Er docs probably would have taken x-rays and maybe would have seen it. Sigh. It doesn't help to have all these extra pain sensing neurons on. Eating mostly jello and applesauce these days. Loved the little crushed meal of meat and veggie yesterday but the after pain negated the wonderful taste. Another sigh.

Yes, it is truly incredible pain...time for drugs and hopefully a little relief after being poked and prodded the past hour. Sigh

Silence Speaks

I turned everything off, lights, computer, tv. The silence speaks volumes.

I hear the softest, most beautiful sound, rain gently falls on roof and eaves, carelessly caressing branches, impacting ground without weeping.

In silence there is no passing of time for darkness hides the clock.

I am the only illumination and I sit listening to the rain. Tis a more agreeable sound than the reckless noise in my head beckoning for another pill, another wave of calm, of peace to wash over and subdue, enchant.

No, I still don't know what I'm doing here spending hours in nonproductivity...trying to find some acceptance in the neutral zone I guess.

The noise in my ear grows and growls louder than the rain. Must be medication time.

But I did so enjoy the rhythm of the raindrops. I had to write to make it so.

Update

Well, I'm still here

My facial nerve pain feels reduced by 50% and is being controlled by lesser amounts of drugs than yesterday

I washed, dressed and took myself to dairy queen. I had a few bites and it tastes okay.

Still on a soft, no chew diet without much appetite...although I may melt some cheese here soon

Less napping. I'm making myself sit up straight in bed for short bits of time.

The swelling has gone down a lot since last night. Whew

Noises are not so loud, although I haven't reached the point where the sound of running water does not hurt

I had no idea how loud my cars turn signals were until today

I dreamt of pretty pink flamingos last night

Still a lot to figure out but at least it hurts a little less

Asking for help

Here's the thing.....one, I have a whole lotta time to write, so I been thinking.

Peoples have accused me of being "stubborn" and overly independent because I rarely ask for help....reason being...I wouldn't know When I am supposed to. Completely clueless. It's one of those foreign thingies that I wasn't gifted with the judgement to comprehend.

Of course, it never worked in my parents house and I have yet to figure out how That mechanism works. You have no idea how many different issues I be working on in therapy. Lettuce...lol...add this one to the list.

Asking for help is kinda like pain..it's either 0 or 10. I have yet to find 12345678 and 9. Don't get it. Someone help me please. That sounds as strange writing it as it would sound totally weird trying to even say it. Damn. Sounds like something I need to practice.

IDK..how does one know when...outside help is available? Needed? Warranted? Oh, yeah warranted. Is there some kind if rule that says ones distress has to hit a certain level to serve the warrant? I'm not even sure there be an answer to such a rudimentary question.

Hmmmm, time to go back to playing Dragonvale and popping bubbles. It's getting kinda heavy here.

Visual Images and Nightime Dreams

Some days I spend most of my time among the personal imagery that takes place within my very own head.some days the outside world looks like a watercolor canvas that has the ability to wash away in an instant.without anchors, the ship will surely drift.

Sometimes I'm the painter with wide crude brush dipping into the night sky, swathing deep blue across the walls. Ahhh, she always did manage to make the most Fantastic of escape routes, portals and doors.

Hmmm, question pop from nowhere in particulare....do I want to be here? Good question. Seems we are thrust into this world with nary a choice. This comes a time when we get to decide if we want to be here and how often. Ahhh, those sorry, sad peoples that have never experienced the joy and pain of the doors of disassociation. They know not of what I speak.

My choice. Didn't have Options before. Now it's My Choice.

Why does that make me haptearsad? Worried I'll make wrong choice. Damn you lack of self-esteem, I say as I take out the whip and snap it back into the corner.

I hear or rather see that it is spring outside. I haven't been out to explore that whole changing crept for the momentary dropping off of son at school.

I dont know, at least my dreams have been pleasant and relatively pain free.

Thought my life sucked till I watched poor Mr. Frodo and his Aspergian loyal and fearful Sam wandered into that whole saving the world shit plan. His life Really sucked. And his adventure was lightly more perilous with those motherfucking orcs. Yikes. That movie only lasted one revolution due to its loud and incessant violence. I switched the DVD back to my buddy Thor as he is easy on the eyes and has a pretty shiny outfit complete with way cool hammer...Hammer.

Managed to find the right mixture of meds to subdue the pain and sleep without scary side effects. Ahh, it be a most delicate balance. Sleep was very, very good to me. Sound isn't quiet as painful this morn and the swelling is down a bit. Gluten free toast for breakfast, I don't recommend for sore jaw and ear as the " bread" does not melt and requires copious chewing...but I really wanted something solid as opposed to the soft, sparse diet of yesterday. Ending up having a midnight snack of melted cheese that tasted a bit like heaven.

External twitches indicate that while my pain is not as rampant as runaway horses, I must exercise great caution with my physical actions lest the pain turns from snake to large beasty.

Methinks the time nears for rest and meds. Just wanted to write, the Ol vent and connect:)

In the Quarry

Pick axe in hand, chipping away at large stone, examining small chips, carefully, methodically with magnifying lens in hand. Trying to figure out how I got here. The train wreck, up above, slipped off the rails and it be still smoking, smoldering, ruins. Thrown from the train. Hiding out here, down below, in this limestone quarry. At least the sun is out. No dirt at my feet, just small, piercing chips of this....place.

It's quiet, no running stream. I have no wish to run as the whistling of the wind would cause nothing but torment. The silence...I can only hear my self, here. It be a shiny white foundation. Sure some rocks were mislaid here or there but it's mine. It's peace. It's empty, save me. Think I'll sit on this step and examine the hollow. My feet covered in dust but they no longer bleed. Guess I'm supposed to be here...as opposed to the out of control train, I guess it's pretty good. Easy to find myself here, gathering my thoughts like spring berries, bright and red, popping up here or there. My little basket made of dried grass holds them well and is full.

Hard to believe, say or fathom, really, but I guess I'm possed to be here. At least I'm out of the dark woods and free of the swamp.

I'll be sitting here for a spell...chipping away...maybe I'll find my value here

It's weird

Like everyday I just become more and more isolated, even if I want to be out. I fail to see any progress. One step forward, three back. I fail to understand this long string of anomalous, bizarre and painful incidents. Do I still have hit me, hurt me written on my forehead? Thought I erased that. No sense. No relief...long long days to any even small relief. Helpless, frustrated, questioning, searching for some small kind of help. Shaking the flashlight, yet still it fails to shine. I'm walking into twisters I can't even see. Falling down circular stairway unable to find a handhold amongst slippery moss sopped bricks. Not sure what the revelation be that will free me from this chain. I don't get it. Can't figure out how to stop it.

Lots of Pain, Complain and Whine

I fail to grasp the meaning of such pain. The scream yesterday did not shatter my ear drum, just something else deeper within my ear. The pain is exquisite as anyone with severe ear or toothache pain can attest to. (I'm with you, Roia). I take 600-800 mg of Motrin constantly in addition to my newly appointed "little friend", Vicadin. At least now I am actually upright, with a semblance of clarity and minor physical movements.

Chewing and talking are challenging...they cause pain. Thus I'm on a soft diet of jello and pears so far today. I just dragged Meself down the stairs and threw sweet potatoes, the soft, canned variety, in to the oven for dinner. Yum, can hardly wait.

I'm stuck in bed, for the most part, so I figured I'd watch the Lord of the Wings(lol) series on little to no volume. I had been hypersensitive to sound all my life, but this injury takes it to a whole new level. Sigh. Every little mundane sound hurts.

I ventured ten miles out of town to see a foreign (not my usual) doctor. I practically felt a chill walking in to that cold, non caring place. I was assured their was no ear drum rupture, that my pain required an ear doc, given a prescript and sent on my way. Bunch a cold hearted, callous bitches. Never felt more like a number in my life. Not an ouch of compassion. Three very rushed minutes with the doctor. Sorry, I somehow interfered with their day. Debating this whole my doctor moved into this new practice thingy as she is not as available and now sleeps with these deep water sharks. Next time I'll take the Er over this vacant and empty office. Hell no, I won't go again. Not even enough time to ask my questions...don't know what new symptoms I need to worry about and which ones are normal. In and out...wipe your ass on the way out the door. I gots no answers....just pain and pills. Fuckers. One of those times I wish I was nt and could think and talk fast enough to get my needs met. Bastards.

I'm tired of staring at the walls in my room. Silence is friend And foe. Just kinda lost in it. Helpless, again, still, stop. I'd blow raspberries to the whole idea that sometimes things happen for a reason, if it didn't hurt so much. That whole random thingy gets an equal invisible raspberry.i can't begin to make any sense of this shit. I'm not sure what purpose life has for me spending so much time cooped up,injured and unable todo anything but drink this whine. I fail to understand the reason....if there is any.

So, Pppllllllffffffffffffff and Plfffff and like, whatever. Pain tends to make me bitter and sullen.

Sometime next week I might get in to see the ear doctor. Yeah right.

Up all night...

Taking Motrin, trying to take the pain away. Pretty sure I have a busted eardrum as my ear is ferocious and the whole side of my face hurts. Chewing and eating makes it worse. Every little, everyday sound hurts. Can't get comfortable. Younglink was shrieking right next to me and that is when the intense pain started. Exhaustion, pain and misery seem to be the key players all week. Hoping my doctors office is taking appts first thing in the morn. I've had earaches but nothing as intense as this, ever.

Everything Gets Louder with Motrin, Noise, Sound Oversensitivty

I have this really weird habit. If I am in pain from an ache or a pain I take Motrin. I have learned to take it only when I absolutely need it because it has one very troubling side effect.....everything gets incredibly loud. My normal hypersensitivity to everyday sounds doubles. Frequently, on days where a pain killer is needed, I can be found in a very quiet house or with ear plugs and noise-canceling headphones. Sound becomes very painful.

I learned not to take even one baby aspirin. My body overreacts to it and I turn crabby and rather nasty if I ingest even one small aspirin.

I know there are other remedies on the market. At some point when I am feeling brave enough, maybe I'll try them. Motrin works exceptionally well on my physical pain, it's just that one blaring side effect that I have to try and work with.

Aspergers Special Services vs Neuro-typical

It is becoming crystal clear that it is ten times harder to get special education services for my Aspergers son than for my neuro-typical boy. Throughout my Aspie Eldests schooling, school personnel looked the other way and ignored the plethora of symptoms he was experiencing. I begged and pleaded for help for him, But It Never Materialized until he was in jail!!! Year after year, I beat my head against walls trying to get someone to comprehend that he needed help and lots of it. Eldest is highly intelligent, received good grades with ease and rarely got into trouble so he was completely passed over for services. No one had eyes to see.

Younglink, with his very obvious physical disability of being one-handed, has always had offers of assistance Pouring in! Just last week another special ed member requested he join Younglinks team. I kid you not. Peoples routinely hold up there hand, say "Pick Me, Pick Me" and practically beg to help. One of Younglinks primary speceds routinely suggests any other services that may be needed. There is very little red tape with a child who has such a visual difference.

I find myself much embittered by this layout of how things work. I look back at all of Eldests silent cries for Help and my incessant pleading which fell onto deaf ears. All Younglink has to do is walk in to the school building and assistance is there.

Being mom to an autistic boy and one with a physical disability has shown me more than I care to know.

Another Truly Bizarre Incident

There is a reason that I don't like to leave my house...strange shit happens with alarming frequency. I collect and experience anomalously bizarre incidents like some people collect figurines. Really.

The latest event, which happened today, started off with me helping out a friend of mine. My buddy, Betty, needs a wheelchair lift van. I found one in town for sale and drove it the ten miles out to her place. Along the way, I thought the van smelled odd and had a weird vibration, but I think that of any car, other than my own. My Aspie senses were on full alert and definitely picking up oddities. As per my usual, I discounted my physical sense and told my self that I was overreacting...again.

My friend looked at the van and I headed home. A friend of mine was minding Younglink for me and I needed to get back toot sweet...as quick as possible. For starters, the van was very reluctant to start back up. Once I got er going, the engine continued to feel...reluctant needy more gas pedal action. So I gave it to er and rushed homeward.

As soon as I hit the highway and brought er up to 55, she started shaking. Okay, well, something ain't right but I have to get back. Every mile, the shaking grew more and more violent, to the point were both hands were stressing out holding the wheel and I had to drop the speed to 40 to maintain control. It felt as if the entire front end of the vehicle was gonna fall off....I kept driving.

Here's the thing...any person with half-a-brain would have pulled over, 5 minutes ago and called a tow truck. I kept my self in serious harms way because my Aspie brain could not get passed the "I wouldn't know what to do, if I pulled over" and "I have to get to get Younglink, right away." My lack of common sense, my rampant autism and my childlike thinking kept me plowing down the road.

Finally, as the cars behind me piled up as I was only going 40 in a 55, I pulled into a parking lot. Immediately I saw and smelled acridic smoke pouring out from the front right wheel well. I thought the car was on fire and jumped out. I was scared shitless. I figured I must have broke it and done something wrong. Abused child thinking was rampant. I didn't know who to call or how to fix this. I was sure if I called the lady whose van it was, that I would be in trouble.

Long, long, stressfully story short. I picked up Younglink and my friend wasn't mad. She could see that it wasn't my fault....why can't I?

I want to run screaming into the wilderness.

I want Gods phone number, because we need to talk.

My plate was so full, that it broke and is in pieces all over the floor and my feet are bleeding.

Really? Really? You have got to be kidding me!!!!! Nough

Someone.....please make this shit Stop

Everyday Stress...Appointments

One of the greatest stressors, for this AspieChick, is setting up and attending those mandatory appts. Now some I actually look forward to, such as my weekly therapy. The other ones, doctors, allergist, dentist, and such are quite the disruption to my everyday routines. When I schedule appts, I try to make sure there is only one in a day and optimistically, no more than one or two a week.

I'm kind of funny in that I will physically stop at my dentist or doctor to schedule as opposed to a telephone call. I lose a lot in translation on the phone. I find phone calls to be quite confusing at times. I like the personal touch and clarity of face-to-face communication. My health care providers have proven to be very understanding in this regard. I am probably one of the very few who walks in to set things up.

On an appt day, my entire morning and afternoon is dedicated between getting dressed and making sure I am there on time. I have already preplanned a few different scenarios and made a mental list of everything I want to say and ask. One little fifteen to sixty minute appointment consumes an entire day of my life. I kid you not.

Upon my return from the outing, I usually spend the rest of the day recovering and recouping, going over the entire "event" and garnishing out what I need to write down and remember. Than I like to nap:).

Yes, today was an appt. day. I had my yearly physical and I am remarkably healthy!

I'm not sure if I am the only Aspie who gets so anxious and disrupted with these everyday tasks. Sigh. I'm just sayin'