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, July 3, 2015

Fed Up and Constantly Agitated

I've been distressed for a number of days, constant and unrelenting. It could be from a number of factors: the irrepressible pain in my back, neck and shoulder, the disparity of the return of Lyme symptoms, the realization that there will never be a place where I feel safe, secure and stress free.
I can't get enough sleep, always tired and my body is having difficulty moving again.
I am agitated and angry and fed up. I've had enough of the gun rights, in your face, bill of rights, armed to the teeth, statistic bending, gun death suicides, accidents and innocents killed. I don't think I can be friends with people that perpetuate violence, fear mongering,  the senseless mass murders, suicides and innocent victims any longer. Good riddance. Good by.
I'm fed up when people stand at the town square and slam migrants, immigrants and anyone who isn't white. I'm sick and tired of rich, white men thinking it makes their penises bigger just because of their skin color and because they need to step on others to fulfill their bloated-ass egos.
We all hail from immigrants, except Native Americans, but obviously we have forgotten. What if our ancestors had been turned away with bullets and arrest when they arrived on these shores?
Racism, racism is alive and well, but we pretend it is not. It doesn't get much air time unless killings, murders and riots are happening...unfortunately the police murders of innocent African-Americans has finally forced us to the realization of the ongoing racist divide.
Yup, let's fight over flags that said we don't want to be part of the US and we don't want to free our slaves. Let's constantly remind them who has the power and stay submissive.
I'm sick and tired of rich, white men, politicians and religious leaders treating women as subservient and dictating what they can and cannot do with their own bodies.
I'm fed up with female rape victims being treated as if it their fault for how they dress or for not screaming loud enough.
I am fucking sick and tired of a society that doesn't teach young men how to keep it in their pants, that rape is wrong and women are not here purely for their pleasure whenever they want.
I'm tired of a society that spends billions on animal rights, filling our screens with pictures of sad, neglected animals whilst thousands upon thousands of children are raped, neglected and abandoned. Where is the outcry for the kids? I support animal rights, but I care more about the children...because we still cannot talk about it freely and the suffering continues every fucking day we turn away from acknowledging it.
There doesn't seem to be a way to escape the hypocrisy, the density of the patriarchal majority, the racism, inequality and brutality of this messed up daily life.
I'm not keeping my thoughts to myself. And I'm not looking for arguments or followers.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

It Feels Like a Revolution

and that we are all at war, within ourselves and our society. We are struggling to find out who we are, what we are made of, what makes us tick and what ticks us off.
We are yelling and screaming to be heard amongst backlash, fear and amidst the other revolutionaries.
It's suddenly, dramaticaly, become clear that we can no longer lay in a bed of complacency and android order. We have stopped following the blind who we once had faith in.
When we all close our eyes, the path of least resistance is to stumble along in the footsteps of whomever is in front of you, along the smoothest, most well-worn path.
I see it. I feel it. I hear it....the blindfolds have fallen and we can hear our own thoughts and look in the mirror with acute clarity.
Our leaders and future leaders have started slamming and perpetuating racism, loud and clear. It's alarming how accepted it is to put another skin color down, call names, make egregious general slander as people are applauding. As if we have failed to remember slavery, the Holocaust, war upon war and women's suffrage.
We are all immigrants. All of our ancestors came from different lands. Now, now they are sub-human garbage to be turned away with bullets, curses, fences and firearms.
We have always felt the need to be the Superior ones, and have steadfastly throughout all of history, found a scapegoat, a race or class of people to belittle, step upon and slander. If all people truly were equal we would lose our bloated egos. Heaven forbid.
In a way, some of us have faded into acceptance of the loudest shouters. We became complacent and accepted that our personal thoughts and opinions had no sway, carried no weight and who are we to go against the mass hysteria we choke on everyday on the news?
There is no truth, everything is an opinion. Maybe we are beginning to see for ourselves. Maybe our trust has been misplaced. Maybe the shackles and chains of "what I say and think doesn't matter," have finally been released, shattered and fallen into the muck.
  Passion, angst, dismay are running hot and high.
Speak and say what you've always wished you could, what you feel in your heart and what moves you to tears.
We don't become free unless we become real and unafraid.

Love yourself...if you can't, then at least like

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

The Autistic Bubble, What it feels like...

I forever seem to be casting, creating defenses around me. Barriers, thick veils, semi-permeable walls, door locked, shut tight, bubbles made from unbreakable goo...anything, everything, to try and stem this incessant sensory tidal flow.
Seems it's roaring in all directions, even with eyes shut and hands over ears. Hiding under blankets, amongst blaring car steroes, nothing seems to calm the ever present screaming din.
I'm starting to feel that I can never win the battle, the barrage of discomfort, pain and stress. I can think of no place to safely lay anchor till this bruhaha storm shall pass, if the winds ever change.
Every moment feels like a fright, a fight, a good reason to hold up clench fists. And I can sense no winds of respite.

Monday, June 29, 2015

I Hail From a Long Line of Child Molesters

Somewhere, at least four generations back, the accepted practice of sexual, incestual cruelty began and became an acceptable, viral practice within my paternal line.
My main abuser, my dad, Don, must have been maliciously, repeatedly, denigrated and sexual molested from a generation above him.
My best guess, based on personal experience, would lay that devious distinction directly at the feet of his mother, my grandmother, Stella. I only say this because of a specific memory in which she, my father and I were in her basement...preparing wild game for cooking. As Stella brandished her fillet knife, she paused for a moment and pointed it directly to my neck, not more than an inch away. She held it there (I choked, froze) and she said a few words to the effect (forgive me for not being exact as most of my focus was on freezing or accidently moving and that knife meeting my throat) that if I ever mentioned, talked, even hinted or whispered at what my dad and I were doing privately, my fate would be the same as the wild game she was preparing, and she would be the one to do it.
  So Stella was aware of the incestuous, sexual abuse of her granddaughter and was okay with that. Well, I guess she endorsed and enforced it.
My guess is that Stella had suffered some abuse of her own as a young girl. Stella never wanted to talk about her family, especially her dad, Stan. Stan died before I'd ever met him but I had heard he was mean.
Stan married great grandmother in an arranged marriage. The one photo of him that I've seen  was on his wedding day. He looked like a corpse, white, pasty, brutally sharp chin and nose, malnourished without a hint of emotion.
My great grandmother, whom I will refer to as GG, as I continue to recover from her  sexual molestation and cannot think her name without shuddering, had 6 kids or so. I would find it hard to believe that any pedophile would be fulfilled by molesting only one of their own children, be it my dad (who raped at least 5), Stella or GG. So, Stella's siblings, my great aunts and uncles may be infected to some degree.
My father and his 5 siblings, must have been victimized in some way. Maybe it was just sons, or the two or three oldest or weakest, I don't know for sure, but I doubt my dad was the only one.
By the way, I have no problem using actual names. Even those dead and gone will not escape the "tarnishing of their good names" as this child victim had no escape from their sexual violations. Truth is truth. Alive or dead.
Then we move onto my siblings...and maybe I choose to tread a bit more discretely. I can say with 100% certainty, as I personally witnessed, two other siblings being raped, and one close family friend child. I was not the only one.
It wasn't only the abuse perpetrated on me that turned out to be most disturbing...but it was when he forced me to sexually abuse my own siblings. (Hangs head and heavy sigh) In a strange way, maybe that last sentence is what made me stop the generational pedophilia. Harming my siblings hurt more than being harmed myself.
  Getting back to GG...I'm only guessing that she made up for the early death of her abusive, cold husband by having long drawn out, intimate relations with her great granddaughter. Again, was I the only one? This I cannot say with any certainty. 
I've started using my maiden name often, as I don't want to forget the ill, twisted perversions by my ancestors that I stopped.
I don't want my Murphy name to be associated with pedophiles, because that is not true.
I wear my Cavanaugh maiden name like a badge of honor and a pointing finger as that is were the sexual deviants are found. this is what happens when you stopping gaming and social networking. You get real and back inside your own head. You find out what makes you tick and write about all the things that were fucked.
I thank you, dear friends, for being witness to my truth. It takes courage to read such raw autobiographical information.
No more secrets. No more lies

Too Much Facebook

I'm taking a leave from checking my fb, other than my pages, which I'll continue to contribute to.
Too much drama, right fighters and strong opinions regarding the previous taboo topics in my 10 one liners post.
People be crazy. Haters gonna hate.
Sometimes I think my best option would be to live in a tent on a secluded beach where the tide daily washed in all the supplies I needed everyday and there were no bugs, skeeters, tics or snakes.
Each person, friend, acquaintance that is added to my life, is an additional stresser, in one way or another. I'm not thinking of taking the high road, just the road untraveled.
Sheeks, the daily grind never stops milling defeat, dedrama and destress.
It's so difficulty to find peace, tranquility and a decent long enough space for a daydream.
  I don't know that I'll ever get along with anyone enough to be able to feel 100% completely at ease, free and emotionally engaged. So many...little things aggravate and perturb.
Waking up is fine, eating breakfast is good but walking out of the house brings minor chaos at best.
There aren't enough tranquilizers, that are safe to take, to keep me in a non-aggitated, non-nervous state. Let me be real honest here, as Miss Belinda is one never to be lied upon.
Eeks, it's just a tenuous, tumultuous pace that is required to take place from dawn till dusk.
The general mood of drama and angst spreading in the news, on social media, bleeds into the air and I feel that tension. I feel angry, strong willed, up in armsness...I feel elation, joy, disbelief and all sorts of defensiveness.
So hard to escape this...