Prepare to enter the wild and wooly world of an adult with Aspergers Syndrome, a form of autism characterized by intellignce, quirks, social difficulties and downright strange and oddish behaviours.

People with Aspergers generally are high functioning in everyday life but have great difficulty connecting with others due to the inability to read faces, body language and subtle verbal clues. They also tend to take words literally and have a hard time multi-tasking.

Oversensitivity to touch (clothing has to be soft and often the tags removed), light (do not leave home without the sunglasses), sound (loud noises and noisey places are avoided), taste (many Aspies have quite a limited diet and are frequently very picky eaters) and smells makes the everyday existence more of a challenge.

Fasten your seatbelts and come on in...
To find out more about what Aspergers is..please check out my earliest blog entries

Friday, October 24, 2014

She was never pretty again...surviving incest...Art

 My first creation of "raw art". Sharing and showing my truth, how incest made me feel...degrading, open wound.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

I feel like...

an animal, a starving, beleaguered lion in a heavily barred cage. I'm hungry, starving, restless, I can't lay down or find a spot away from the bars. From all sides people poking me with sharp spears.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

No, You Don't Know Me

I have done nothing but lie and try and force on a mask of "I give a shit" when I actually don't. I feel completely disingenuine, lying to myself and everyone around me, for fear their expectations and needs will not be met or they will think less of me if I disclose how I really feel.
 I am not a nice person. I am an angry, raging, deeply wounded, up to my knees in a boiling, seething cauldron of despair. I feel put upon, required, trapped, stuck and enmeshed in a daily struggle from which I can find no respite. 
 I have sparse moments where I don't have to hide how I feel...and I cry and rage incessantly. I am so wounded and I saunter through my day clutching my chest and searching for a way out. 
 All I do, is what others need doing. I appear as others want to see me. I'm lying to myself and protecting those around me. Lying is the number 1 Aspie sin, and I am guily as hell.
 It's as if a large portion of the unpleasant and painful emotions that I have stuffed away all these decades, are now floating at the surface constantly. I am drift in a burning boat and not allowed to jump in the water. 
 What I feel is not common sharing fodder. No one likes a mean and angry person. So I wear my mask and coat and carry on like an imbecile, a feeling less drone. 
 I want away from everyone and every shoved down my throat responsibilty. But it is not mine to be had.
 The one time when I feel truly who I am and I hide it. The progress has reached such a point that I have to shove the truth away and pretend it doesn't exist...pretend I'm not real and valid.
 This is who I am. This is how I feel. And I am not nice. I am struggling within to keep what should be out, in.
 In writing it looks even more ridiculous than it is. 
 I suffer. I retreat. I hold an invisible white flag and give up on all this trivial, daily shit for it means nothing.
 I'm full of such emotion that I'm not free to discuss. 
I wish the world would go away and leave me the fuck alone.
This is what inadvertently happens when one is enraged and clenching a fist too long. An outward expression of the strength and depth of my feelings that I keep bottled up day after day. 
 I guess it's matter of processing and time in learning how to integrate these old, disjointed feelings into the realism of today. 
 Trying to get back to the present, the Now, is like trying to lay out a picnic cloth in a wind storm. Red and white checks catching with every little gust. No calm in this storm.
 I spend my best days in indisturbed sleep. It just really sucks being me.

Monday, October 13, 2014

I cannot win

I detest the sound of broken glass. It crashes and splinters through every neuron in my body. I worry about small, invisible splinters for days.
 I cannot win with a kid in school. The ridiculous, detrimental nightly hour to two hours of homework seems like constant, unnecessary stress for me, the kid and the family. It takes away from any individual or family time. Whips and chairs and jumping through flaming hoops...and it Nevers Ends. And it never abates. Forced into ridiculous paradigms, they I don't believe.
 No alternate school that makes sense. Home schooling is a nightmare and offers no solace. The kid craves huge amounts of social interaction.
The only answer is to let it ride. Back off. Allow the kid to make his own way and barely squeak by again this year.
 I've had more than one person accuse me of being negligent. When I wasnf. Having to defend myself against false allegations, which goes against the very fiber of my being.
 I return, retreat into my quiet, internal world to avoid some of this chaotic nonsense and drivel. At least I'm not being attacked if I keep my mouth shut and staying offline. The less direct communication I have, the less misunderstandings. 
  Seems like the trivial have-to-dos are fucking running my life. And there isn't a way out. Retreat. Retreat. Hide and let all this crap blow away. Enough already.

Saturday, October 11, 2014


For what is real
Cept that which I touch
With fingers, toes and noses

Thoughts are whispy figments,
Fractured pictures that
Form, collapse, take hold

Those little beasties
Unable to touch
Cept with shudder and tear

Nothing sacred about a feeling
Grabbing hold of cellular structure,
Adhering, parasitic hostage
That festered, smolders and grows
Growling in the darkest recesses,
Panting, savoring it's increasing hunger
As the longer it sits and stirs
The more it devours, disrupts
Taking, taking, stealing, coveting
The space where happy, gay and smiles
Once rested and glowed

I pray for peace
Amongst this war-torn landscape
That stutters and trips my every move

Living in a land overrun
Of emotions carrying noises, big guns
And ammo to last years

To disarm, jump, take hold of nary one
At a single time...
To wrestle it passionately, vehemently
Into the ground of submission
To tear it apart
Limb by limb
Piece by manageable piece
Grab hold of
Hold high with the cry of vengeance
And victory
To smear upon myself this forlorn emotion
That I forsake in lieu of sanity

Damn, these vile beasts
Untamed, hidden, reticent
Wild beyond feral
Scary past nightmarish
Haunting more than icy shivers
On a summers day

I cast myself
Into this ring of fire
Standing no more
Idly by
And allow this battle
To hold me aprison

I forged these chains
It's safe now
To look at my greatest work

Raise awareness
And dismantle

Only the maker
Holds salvations key

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

That Post Therapy Confusion

 Living with DID it isn't uncommon for me to leave therapy and only having recollection of the last five minutes I was there. Typically, the remainder of that day, along with parts of the week are spent foggy, dissociative, pondering and processing what was said in that one hour session. It comes back in little snippets here and there.  One sentence here, a small sensation there, very scattered. Yesterday and today have been confusing, as one minute I know what I'm doing and in the next one I've forgotten. The day has gone really fast. Time flies when you are not fully in the present. Why do cookies taste so damn good but make me sick and I still eat them? It's just pretty disjointed here. Kinda amazing that I accomplished as much as I did, what with the flightiness, hand flapping and twitching, pacing and costant mumbling.
 Yesterday's session has a definite intensity to it. Heavy stuff. Lots of emotion. I'm fine, just dealing with the post therapy confession is all.

So Wrong