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

Sunday, December 9, 2018

The Autistic Parent and Parent Teacher Conferences

As any parent knows, parent-teacher conferences are mandatory events to attend at least twice a year. Being a single parent with Asperger's, conferences have been proven to be a challenge that I have had had to modify.
Via my first disastrous, panic attack riddled attempt to attend conferences the normal, neurotypical way, I needed to find a way that works for me.
The typical conference setting is having all the teachers at individual tables scattered around a single, large, echoing room like the cafeteria or gymnasium. Parents are required to stand in line and wait for their turn to come and their child's teacher to be a available.
As I stood in line eyeing the length of the line, listening to the din of the crowd grow larger as I inched my way toward the room, I broke out in a sweat, couldn't stand still and felt compelled to bolt from the building.
With age comes wisdom.
This was my son's first year at a new middle school so bolting wasn't a doable option. I ran into the office, tears streaming down my face, in full stammer/stutter mode and asked the secretary for a room to calm down.
The secretary readily read my distress and ushered me to a small office whereby I blurted out that I was autistic with PTSD and I just couldn't do it (handle going to conferences in this format).
The secretary helped me decide on a different course of action. She said that she could get my son's report card from the gym and Then she would be able to set up times and dates whereby I could meet with the teachers individually away from the maddening crowd.
This Worked!
Whereas moments before I saw no options, no way to complete this mandatory task that I wanted to do, a solution arose from the ashes of my panic attack.
Thus, every parent-teacher conference these past two years I have gone to the office, spoke with the office manager or one of the assistants, and scheduled One-on-One conferences with each of my child's teachers!!
This works for me!
Sure, I go to the school 4 or 5 different days but the sensory stimuli, the difficulty of meeting new people that each talk and use words in unique ways, it is easier for me to handle.
I did inadvertently agree to meet three teachers, back-to-back in one day and needed to shutdown and nap the remainder of the day, however, next time I will schedule no more than two in a row.
I continue to learn how to manage being an Aspie mom navigating this crazy neurotypical world.

Sunday, December 2, 2018

No Friends so I Hire My Support Team

Since the act of forming friendships seems beyond me, I've learned that with the help of decent insurance coverage, I hire people to listen to me, talk to and assist me with functioning.
Currently I have a therapist, acupuncturist and a chiropractor with whom I can engage in varying degrees of conversation in order to feel kindof human. And I saw them All last week. Hence this post.
All three I have been seeing for over a year. I have a positive working relationship with them and I have something to look forward to.
Lacking friends, these relationships are far more important to me and my emotional well being than to the average person on the street.
In my empty, deeply lonely world, they are life preservers that I get to cling to for short bursts of time. They keep me floating in these ever trembling waters, like guideposts or buoys, directional arrows and rest respite stops.
Sure, each one is only an hour at a time but thems vital hours.
Just sayin
If you can't make friends, hire replacements.

Saturday, December 1, 2018

Sudden System Overload, Meltdown

Omg, all I did was walk into a store that I had never been to before. In those 20 seconds inside, every system was assaulted and I bolted from the store in a panic.
The first thing that went very wrong was the smell. It reeked of syrup! Why, I have no idea but this was very wrong for a Target store.
I kept thinking back to the Target store I used to frequent in Traverse City. In Traverse the store opened up on the left with a wide doorway that led into the rest of the mall. This new place had a solid wall, so I immediately felt trapped. (Trapped is a recent issue I've been dealing with in therapy and daily life.) I didn't know where any other exits were.
The aisle I could see had things haphazardly arranged, strew apart; it looked like a mess.
Random shoppers were clustered and scattered to and fro. There didn't appear to be any order: Chaos!
I spied the checkouts and, again, it looked disorganized. No way.
I turned around and ran for the exit.
I can't think straight. My stomachs upset. My head hurts and I feel very off.
I just want to go home and crawl into bed with the covers over my head and never leave.
Sure, there are more things I was supposed to do today but forget it.
Sudden system overload. Bushwacked. Done!

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Sometimes it's easier to pretend I'm normal

Lately, with the decrease in energy due to illness and a dramatic uptick in necessary activity, I'm beginning to remember why I used to just go with the flow, push myself to do unpleasant things and keep my mouth shut.
Its proving that explaining myself as to why a relatively easy NT task, like going to this place or making this phone call or addressing this problem, is more work than the struggle and stress of meeting others expectations.
I'm barely functioning and bordering on overwhelm yet I'm tired of all the thought and words that go into my explanation of why simple tasks are so difficult. Sorry, the words don't flow smoothly at the moment.
I do remember why I spent years not saying anything about the discomfort and distress I endure on a regular basis.
Maybe it's just my current predicament that is coloring my thinking. Sigh.
I guess I'm just starting that knowing the reasons for my daily challenges, autism, DID, and CPTSD makes me more inclined to defend myself in verbal ways and its wearing me down.
I'm doing my best. I know that. I just need to believe it more.

Friday, November 23, 2018

Why am I here? Escaping hurt

It seems like most of life can be boiled down to living to avoid hurt, in essence, alive to seek love.
Avoid hurt by generating income so you can eat and have a decent place to live. Dating, coupling and marrying to avoid the pain of loneliness.
Busy drowning our hurts in drinks, pills, shoveling food in our face, drowning in trivial make believe dramas of reality tv and gossiping about the neighbor down the street.
Our bodies hurt because our hearts hurt and we don't know how to feed ourselves right and feel good about who we are.
I'm odd and strange, because my pains are understood by the small majority who suffered similar crimes. We all hurt, just in different degrees.
Life doesn't make sense in that there is no joy, or feelings of happiness that I can experience on a weekly basis. I live scarce, scant and acutely aware of this emptiness in my soul because I was unlovable...rephrase that. I was entrusted to adults, to caretakers that were unable to love me.
And the counseling choir screams "you just need to love yourself more" and "love is the answer" as if they expect me to suddenly conjure up exactly what this love thing is that I never experienced.
How can I feel something that was never given to me? I know not its parameters, its width, its depth, its feel.
Like a blind man walking in a cave told to open his eyes.
Its ludicrous really, this unending game of seeking something that was never given me.
I see, I fully understand the dilemma of being Autistic and unable to find a single friend, much less an intimate one. I believe that loneliness and having the capacity to know you need someone and not being able to attain it, is the single greatest, most depressing problem facing those of us on the spectrum.
Trapped within ourselves With the knowledge of what we need And knowing we cannot attain it....sigh. Life is about figuring out how to endure this great a trivial world where others have what they require.
The emptiness...the aloneness...Life is great sadness, nothing more. Pointless, yet, I persevere.
Words of wisdom, I scoff, apply only in the neurotypical world where people live on the surface, not for the depths of the autistics.
I used to think Aspergers was a step in furthering the evolutionary process. Now I realize I'm just a caveman seeking fire and I have no flint. And I can see the glow of many distant campfires.
Life is about avoiding hurt and trying to find enough to fill the void of being unable to connect to anyone else.

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

I'm exhausted, helpless

When I become exhausted, I become helpless, a word I do not use lightly.
My extended, necessary social interactions these past two weeks coupled with my current bout of physical illness, shingles, has left me temporarily incapacitated.
The simplest efforts, sitting up, brushing my teeth, speaking, etc, require herculean, pain effort.
I hate this.
Thus, I must be continually diligent in self monitoring my every day activities.
Did I mention I hate this?
Don't know when I'll be functional again.
Being autistic, in sensory overload and shutdown, f*cling sucks. No one can help me. I can't help my self.

Sunday, November 11, 2018

Dissociation, Living in the Now

As a child, there wasn't a compelling reason for me to stay present, in my body, in the now.
I was miserable with being raped, tortured, sold, shared. My home life, outside of the sexual abuses consisted of hunger both physical and emotional, neglect, ridicule and lack of love. I couldnt find the pros of having a body at all, much less staying in it for hours at a time.
Happiness was a brief cloudburst, like when we would play on the swings at the playground far from home and untouchable. I always knew that positive feelings were fleeting little wisps. It would hurt to leave happy to go home. It was better to avoid the positive emotions all together as it would hurt worse returning to my reality of pain.
It hurt worse to visit and know the peace of paradise and then leave, than to deny all happiness exists. I stayed away from any feel good emotions as I saw them for what they were, freaky little cruel bits of cake in a world of moldy bread crusts.
I walked out, as much as possible, those erratic small feel goods.
I'd rather pretend that they didnt exist at all. It's like, you never miss candy if you've never tasted sugar kindof mentality.
So, somewhere locked away inside, I think, is my ability to feel happy and the thick wall that encloses it.
It's strange being me. Trust me