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

Thursday, June 21, 2018

How it feels

I don't always have words for how I am feeling in the inside, but I often get an image that shows me how I feel.
I painted Is how I am feeling

Friday, June 8, 2018

Pretty hopeless and depressed

Dealing with another exhaustion shutdown from our trip to Portland yesterday. Another big stress trip this weekend.
Therapist moved my appointment time to a busy office time. Now I feel like another simple clog in a wheel. It's her job. Just another peon.
Therapist is like all the others. Nothing special. Just a stranger from another world to talk to. I guess. Not interested.
Working to save money for a trip later this year.
Found out my food stamps were reduced by 30% a few months back. Explains the grocery bill.
Family issues unable to share that can't ever really be resolved. It's like an ongoing crisis.
The police may show up at my door for an interview. Can't talk about it. Might happen, might not. On high alert. Unpredictable.
Less and less can I accomplish as the shutdowns and exhaustion seems to grow, not improve with age.
Seriously searching for ways to reduce any and all social interaction. It's majorly confusing and highly upsetting.
Things just aren't going right, in a big way.
Wish something was easy.
Wish life didn't hurt so much.
Tired of the constant tears.

Monday, May 28, 2018

I have the strangest therapy sessions

Being a Multiple and in therapy for years, you'd think I'd get used to these unusual sessions. But, I swear, it is so weird. I'll be talking and then all the words just stop, abruptly. I mean, there may be thoughts in my head or feelings and physical sensations that I experience but, it's like a heavy curtain comes raining down and I'm left completely speechless.
My hands move, my eyes are usually teary, and I think parts of me are communicating with therapist, just in a completely non-verbal way.
In a way, I have half sessions. I'm there and aware half the time and the other half, I've got zero control and zero conscious.
Life with Multiple Personality Disorder is a highly odd experience, for sure.

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

The Barrier Between Us

There is forever an unseen wall, a barrier if you will, between myself and those I interact closely with. Today the walls were thicker, denser and more perceptible.
I had an appointment with my doctor. Everything went wrong from the new receptionist, to the offices under construction to the never before entered treatment room. I felt terrible and inconsolable. I couldn't sit still. I continually searched for my friend, the shoulder high window if the other offices. I felt enclosed, trapped and highly claustrophobic. I wasn't sure that I could find my way to the safety of outside and my vehicle in the expanded parking lot.
My doctor seemed distant, a football field away even though we stood no more than a foot apart. I was rattled and rushed. My brain speeding around hairpin turns. Doctor seemed curt, rushed and short. I spewed all the things I wanted to say and forgot half of the ones unsaid.
The wall so thick. It's as if I didn't even have an appointment as I felt invisible like chalk melting in the rain and doctor never looked up to see the chalkboard.
I was lost and on my own again, still. Wasted time in a scary, unsettling, foreign room. Disconcerting. Had I known about the construction, long and strange hallways and rooms, I never would have showed up.
Had I been aware that my doctor was that distant and unreachable, I would have better spent my time in bed. But I never know how I will feel or what the conditions will be like when I go to an appointment, a store, a necessary errand place.
Unpredictability is Unsettling.
Flapping and pacing my way through this appointment reminded me of the futility of comfort and the ability to actually make useful contact with someone that has the power to assist me.
I was invisible, a talking head and persona non grata.
It's such an empty, helpless feeling to seek help and be unable to connect. Futility.
Yet another frustrating day in the life.
Hear my sadness
Feel my pain
I am so very alone
Behind thicker walls

Tuesday, May 8, 2018

Here's what I know. I'm a misfit toy

I know I'm no expert or genius. Living a reclusive lifestyle does not allow me to be full of wisdom in how the world works, how to make money or find the person of your dreams...but I do know this...
I know that I have experienced a number of unusual situations. My awareness of what happened, examining my emotions and relaying this information can help those who have been through the same things. This information can possibly help those who are treating and working to mend those who suffered as I.
It feels like some friggin' miraculous treasure that I can articulate these secretive events. So few, so very few have escaped their prison of shame and silence. I want to speak out, loudly and clearly for myself and other survivorsho have yet to find their voice
Part of the reason I blog, I've recently surmised, is that I want people to know that I'm not this strange, sullen, depressed human who never leaves her house and nobody knows her. Whew, big sentence there (in meaning not so much as in length.)
I want those that knew me, old teachers, fellow students, coworkers, past friends, that there are very valid reasons for my oddish behavior.
To those friends that I treasured, then offended or dropped all contact with suddenly and recklessly.
These events, they shaped me, morphed me, into a human with very little control over things like trusting, communicating and being stable.
My life is an unpredictable roller coaster of autism, abuse reactions, Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (this one, in and of itself accounts for 90% of my behaviors, my exhaustion, etc. It's so complicated. Read about it!) and chronic low energy.
It's like I could exhaust myself trying to explain the reasons behind why I'm exhausted. Everyone would like an explanation. All my life, I've had to explain and be accountable for my behaviors. It may look like I've let people down but it wasn't intentional.
Most people have predictable behaviors, energy levels and social lives. They aren't required to explain themselves because it's a large group and each knows the others qualities. It's only those of us on the outside that are put under the magnifying glass and picked apart for being, ya, you guessed it, different.
Different, different, different. Make the oddballs, the ones who struggle to find the right words, make them speak and explain themselves. It's heaping crap upon crap.
No one is ever going to sit next to me, put their arm around me, look in my eyes, and say "Yes, I can see you've had a rough day. I'm sorry. I get why that menial disturbance was highly upsetting. I know how that must have triggered you. I get you. I understand why. It's going to be okay. You're okay."
So I write to maybe be heard and to maybe be understood just a little bit.
I'm not a freak
Really, I'm not.
Just some really odd genetics and some really bad things happened to me weekly throughout my youth that affected me deeply.
Ya know????
These secrets, events, crimes, misdemeanors, insults, episodes of torture, manipulations and my emotions and thoughts around them need to be released so that I can finally be free.
Books have been written by experts on the subject of childhood abuses. People that have never experienced such egregious malfeasance. And they are the experts??!
I know this stuff.
I was there.
I know how it felt and the impact upon me.
I know the road to healing.
And I can talk and write about it!!!
See, I've lived an extraordinary life. Trust me. Validate. Understand if you can. Know how to help others.
I have knowledge....take it

I'm a misfit toy and that's okay!