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

Monday, January 31, 2011

Zoning Out

Oh, this is a pleasant place. I have caught myself in the neutral zone. Granted I have spent many an hour, afternoon, day here but for some reason, I just seem to be aware of my different "states" more often these days.
Zoning is when I am just sitting and being. The hands on the clock keep moving. Whatever tv station is on changes from one program to another and I am, quite simply, just not completely with the program. What is so cool about that it is really calm, non-stressful, an absence of...hmmm, just about everything. I mean, thoughts are like, there, softly moving to and fro but I don't focus on anything in particular.
Its like the calm before the storm without any storm or impending doom. Different than a shut down because there is no exhaustion to overcome and there is no numbness anywhere.
I can probably best describe it as a really good, fairly deep daydream....NICE!

Its something that takes place most often at night after everyone has gone to bed and I sit in the master chair, the comfy lounger and have my feet kicked up. Although, (I scoff), I have noticed that when this happens during the day, say, when I am sitting at a particularly long red light, it takes a lot of work to get back in focus.
The lights are on, but no one is home or rather, no one is willing to answer the door. Its a very welcome break. And, yeah, I can do this for hours on end. It just seems like it has been a very, very long time since I have been here. My brain is on a little vacation...later

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Behind the Glass

There is a certain peace, walking the streets at night, that cannot be attained when it is light. Every passerby is more diffuse and vague, head down yet wary. Footsteps in the silence of streetlights.
The illuminated window beckons. I answer the call. The pretend peoples in their fancy new clothes pose with a distant glaze. I am fascinated by the sheer irony of these that never move, never sway and that endure the stares of so many who are so strange.
I walk into the closed store, grab a chair and proceed to the window. Its very quiet here, behind the glass. I examine the mannequins up close and personal. The tall one, I'll call her Veronica, Ronnie, for short, looks like she has been here for awhile. Dust has settled on her plastic hair and outstretched hand...her outstretched hand...looks faded, worn, almost fragile at this close view. Hmm, not as real and true as I would have thought. I can see now, that it is definitely, definitely fake.
I wonder how long she has been like that...forced to pretend that she wants, that she can help.
How has she been able to deal with all the gazes and gawkers? Does it bother her that others see only what she is on the outside? Only that which she can give away for a for sale.
I sit down. Its been a long day of walking the streets, hiding in subtle corners, trying to be part of the scenery, waiting for the darkness to become real and free. Even here, in the openeness where all can see...there is no one to look or stare.

Friday, January 28, 2011

More Thoughts on Selective Mutism

I've been thinking about SM lately. I hope I'm not giving away trade secrets here because I don't want my official Aspie card revoked..maybe they will just cut off one of the corners. There are some things...that are rarely spoken of. Almost like an unwritten code of honor, that we don't share.
Eldest broke one of the unwritten rules a couple of weeks ago. "You never ask for something that you cannot get". It just runs against the grain to ask for something that is unobtainable. We are unusually extremely careful about what we ask for because of the fear of rejection.
I don't know if it is "our", mine and Eldests unwritten rule, that of all Aspies or mine alone. No clue really.
Anyway, I guess I used to see SM as just a part of the visceral, physiological exhaustion process. When the body/ brain overloaded and shut down in response to too much stress. More and more I read where brain chemistry and hormones dictate behaviors and that Aspies and Bipolars share some of that chemistry in the phenomenon of vivid dreams and some roller coaster moods. This past month, I saw and maybe for the very first time, the separateness of SM from pure physical exhaustion. Maybe SM is an it a separate experience? Or a precursor of the shutdown? Honestly, I didn't think it could exist on its own until recently.
But I digress...its hard to let people in to some of the sacred things. Then I think, well, its not like anyone can stop me from going there or that i will run in to anyone I know there..because it is mine alone.
How does it feel? Its like you are in a stadium for a major sporting event, you know, with lots and lots of noise, people scattered everywhere all yelling and screaming, loudspeakers going with music and cheers, and you see the tunnel...leading out of the stadium. And only you can see the tunnel. And you don't necessarily have to walk towards it because it slowly is moving towards you.
All you have to do is stand up and take a few steps and you are in it. Sure, you can still hear the crowds with the first step...but it gets a little more distant with each one. And more distant..and more..and more. Its like in slow-motion...until you hear the most beautiful of sounds....absolutely nothing...silence.
The lights are dim...there is only breathtakingly beautiful silence.
Physiologically, in real time, real life, my lips and face get heavy and form a sort of mask. I can actually feel it. Almost as if my lips gently clamp shut and on the inside of them there is a slight smile, a subtle turning up of the corners of my mouth that no one can see. Other times I describe it as an invisible vice. And the amount of effort that it takes to verbalize....think Incredible Hulk. It really is very challenging and a monumental effort to get anything through and out.
In a small way, I think part of this might be what the Neuro-Typical feels in that all the rushing, speeding trains of thought that describe my normal thought processes on most days, stops. The trains dissolve, as does the station. Even the tracks disappear. All is calm.
It is Nirvana in that all suffering stops. Ouch, that must be my way of saying that the external becomes too painful..or that the internal simply cannot tolerate anymore.
Maybe a more apt term would be Shangri La, a mysterious, harmonious valley. I know is extremely peaceful and a lot like twilight. Its a resting place, a respite and easily the greatest place of healing. Besides, its the only "off" switch that I own.
It is both beautiful and frightening...and I don't really care for the completely out-of-my-control aspect. I must say that that is the most bothersome part about it..that, and the not knowing if I can ever find my way out of the valley or when that will be. Yeah, the first few times i noticed it, that was the most frightening part...not knowing if or when it will abate. Its a vulnerability, because you can no longer defend yourself verbally. What if a teacher (my most usual opponent) screwed up or challenged me? Then what? Thats the negative part.
On the positive side..omg, it is close to pure heaven...the sky is a slightly overcast blue, you can smell the flowers, even the stream is flowing gently and silently. If I listen, I can hear things happening on the outside. Nothing can hurt me here. Yeah, I become pretty numb here. And no one can hurt me not even me.
And part of me would love nothing more than to live there forever and a very equal part of me wants nothing more than to leave. But it is a fight without fighting. A battle with no weapons or even harsh words. Mostly, its an opportunity for healing and respite. I take it as a genuine, soundless cry.
I guess the only real problem, in my mind, is when it interferes with the everyday existence...when there are things that need doing and only I am the one. And, probably, if it lasts too long...but I cannot really judge time there or what is too long? Can a vacation ever be too long? Is there a time limit on how long a treatment can take to restore one to health? I don't know.
So how does it is it that I leave this place? I never really know, I guess I already established that but usually, almost always, I would think, it is gradual. Maybe I wake up in the morning and I can sense thoughts, words, partial sentences forming slightly overhead. Or maybe I am thrust out when some situation arises in which I am forced, compelled to act.
There have been times when I sensed that Eldest had a lot going on and he wasn't able to articulate anything. I would give him a great big hug or I would call him down stairs from his lair, and have him sit next to me on the couch. It seemed that being in close proximity and gentle physical contact, would "break the spell" or "force the issue". He seemed to come around shortly there after and start talking. More often than not, he would reveal something he had been thinking about, wondering, contemplating..something bugging him. Sometimes not...and we would just sit there for awhile..then he would go outside or upstairs for awhile only to return hours later in a more expressive mood. So physical contact works pretty good. i know of no other way of dealing that is effective.
Anyway, I don't know, it seems like this is the first time that I have had a lot of clarity and been able to see and sense the selective mutism. The biggest thing to remember, always, always, always, it is not a conscious choice. And it is a true quandary.

The Curious Batch..Grey Squirrels

We have a red oak tree with a most convenient hollowed out nesting area. Every year we "hatch" one or two batches of grey squirrels. Often times it is about 5-6 little guys with an average ratio of 1 or 2 being black. The baby squirrels are simply adorable being so small that their tails are longer than their bodies and they look so darn fluffy and soft.
During the winter time, we always put out a heated watering dish for all the wildlife, on our deck, along with throwing out sunflower seeds every day or two. This can sometimes be problematic as food is scare this time of year and the squirrels usually do some heavy-duty squabbling, fighting and quite often attack each other to the point of drawing blood.
This current odd, mutant batch is the first in many ways. One, they never ever fight amongst themselves. In all our 17 years here, this is a first. Second, check out the ears on these guys...they have fluffy, white, longish hair on the outsides of their ears. Most of them have the white ears very pronounced but two have a more normal, grey color to them. Three, they are quite friendly to humans. More than once, I have gone out to throw food and they will just stop and look at me without running away. They are so peaceful and calm. Very rare among squirrels that I have experienced.
They have the most interesting of colors, mostly silver grey backs, white bellies, silver streaks on the outer tail, light brown eye liner, a rusty brown vest and those funny, adorable ears.
Yeah, pretty you know where my hours spent home alone are used....staring out the window

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Suzanne Vega - Solitude Standing (Live)

Okay, so I have been listening to this song for an hour and a half. Yeah, not many people can be that dedicated.
Sometimes few things move me and I like that which does.
There are few songs that I know all the words to and can relate to so deeply. Its profound and inviting.
Take a listen

One-Hand Challenges..Momma Steps Out-of-the-Box

Having one-handed Younglink has really forced me (in a nice way) out of my box. I have to be more aware of those everyday things, that the average person doesn't think about, so that I can help him adjust. I have to look more, see more and be much more aware for potential challenges. Its a learning curve, as this is all new for our family.
Sure, playing the piano would be a challenge but so are simple things like zippers, putting on socks (seriously, try it sometime), buttoning jeans, putting on a stocking cap, opening and eating a banana, carrying trays and certain things like large dinner plates, cutting food, riding a bike when you can't reach both handlebars (we had an adaptive device made special) and...and ice skating.
Today, at school, was take the class to the ice rink day. Sure, it was written in the school bulletin and I had actually read said bulletin, I just failed to retain that little tidbit. So, I get to school and Younlink balks and gets upset at the idea.
Hmm, last year for this event, I accompanied him and it was so extremely chaotic and stressful that I just didn't have it in me to do it ever again. There were not nearly enough helpers and as I helped Younglink get his skates on three other kids would ask for my help...then out on the rink I kept picking up the ones that had fallen and then, usually, they never let go. And I like to help but I couldn't help everyone or as many as needed it so it was very frustrating.
Younglink needs one-on-one because he is not proficent at ice skating and yeah, his one-handedness comes in to play. If he falls, he is unable to protect and brace himself like others. Because of his foreshortened arm, he falls towards that side and usually ends up hitting his head. Yeah, one of those odd challenges that we quickly learned when he first started walking/ running at eight months. LOL, he never really walked...he just ran. I did briefly entertain the idea of getting him a helmet but would he really like looking that odd compared to his peers? I think not.
So, instead of all that, I opted to call the school, pick him up before the procession to the rink and drop him back off once his class returned. Younglink was absolutely overjoyed when I showed up to get him.
Yes, I do love the box within which I live and its comfy and cozy and extremely quiet...but for the love of my little guy, I venture out.

Feeling even a wee bit better today...maybe as high as 90%. I engaged one of Younglinks teachers in conversation (his music teacher who I had not previously met) and whilst I was able to convey my could have been a bit clearer, less choppy, haltering and erratic. But, overall, momma done well!

Monday, January 24, 2011

More Thoughts on Existance...

The other thing I figured out when I was underground...yeah, sometimes i find some real of the most important things is that you have to like yourself. Because if you don't like who you are and are not comfortable in your own skin...ain't nobody else going to do that for you and nothing else really matters.
We went to Meijers and I saw everyone else in a completely different light. Appearances really don't matter...sure, they are an outer reflection of what is some degree, but the outward appearance is not something to judge a person with. We all choose the clothes we wear and how we want to portray ourselves...everyone is in the costume of their own choosing. Who am I to judge who is the wiseman and who is the fool?
Each person is,like, this singular orb, spinning and weaving their life, their tales around themselves. And i don't know how often anyone really sees or cares about what is out side of themselves.
No longer did I see...everyone else as staring or looking at me and casting judgement. The paranoid anxiety-ridden delusion had melted away...and I just saw people..people wrapped up, spinning and creating their own experience.
If you can't find your own one can do it for you.
The past doesn't matter so much in the retelling, its in the how we deal with the we separate ourselves from all the opinions and feelings of others that have been hurled at us....when we find our self..and realize that we are all good..and what happened to us may have made us who we are but we don't have to carry it and wear it like a burden or a glove.
There are no victims, only volunteers (love you Lis)...what are you going to do about it? Get over, deal with it or don't...the choice is always ours.

Maybe that is why I am having such a hard time picking out what to wear each day...the clothes in the closet are not me..they are what I used to be

A Little Death....What Am I doing Here?

Nothing like a little death to make one realize they are alive.
Now what? I spent a fair amount of time, this past week, questioning the reasons for my existence. I have always been that way..searching for the deeper meaning of life.
Seriously, entire days, weeks, and yes, even months, have been spent seeking answers.
So, my big question, that arose last week was...WTF? Yeah, what am I doing here?

I think I have come up with some possible answers...enough to satisfy my soul, anyway.
I draw upon a couple of books by Neale Donald Walsch, plus the movie Eat, Pray, Love....
I am here, in this life, to experience my experience God alive in discover who I am.. to be fully engaged and explore all my aspects and tread where others have always arise from the deepest of pits and ride the tall winding rollercoasters that even thrillseekers refuse to find love and overcome the tallest of climb that mountain, not because it is there, rather, because it is in my way and I want to get over explore the Damn, it seems like I have been thrown into the very pits of hell and I spend the vast majority of time just digging, examining, and figuring it all out...discarding, shedding and growing.
I don't think many others have been through, have experienced even a hint of the magnitude.....I have explored so many dark corners that I found myself caught in...experiences ...damn...trying to convey here....I have visited and lived in the darkest most painful of feels like so many lifetimes have been rolled into this one...this one, man....Im not sure if I am relating this clearly enough....
You know, I am really quite extraordinary..let's just say my life, this life of experiences thus far, could easily fill volumes...and it isn't pretty, flowery pages of poetic longing, dreams realized and wishful, its extremely raw, gritty, dirty, the kind of stuff that you read and say, "Whoa, I am sooo glad that that did not happen to me" shit. And "How in the hell did you live through that?" stuff.
Yeah, those who know me...those few, privileged, kind, remarkable people that I call my "Peeps", those who know of the valleys, back alleys and wasteland where I have slept and crept...yeah, they know that of which I speak....
I am Here...Get used to it...I am
I keep reading/ hearing that life is something to be enjoyed and, thats my next destination
Peace Out

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Knight Moves (Live)- Suzanne Vega

Small Blue Thing-Suzanne Vega

Back On Line...Love,Paint, Me

[Word of caution...what started out on a playful, upbeat note, quickly turned...more tales of an adult nature.....Proceed at your own risk...really]

I came across my old Suzanne Vega Cd, picked up my paint brush, drug out all my paint supplies, and came back to the world. Sometimes I just get a bit overstressed and everything turns off...for awhile..then the lights come back on and there is this rapidly flowing stream of thoughts, words and ideas. Listening to Suzanne Vega and "Marlene on the Wall", "Small Blue Thing" (truly a marvel!! If you have never heard it, you simply MUST) and "The Queen and the Soldier" often has a profound, life affirming effect. She talksings in pictures...a very deep, visual artist who embraces her pain and can portray it in a non-threatening way, like its ordinary and just the way life is.
My first thoughts,as I listen to Suzanne, is of when my sister, Joy, was still alive (funny, its been so long since i have ever actually spoke her name) and we shared an apartment and her friend Leebos (oh gosh, that wasn't even her name...okay, Lisa, we just called her Leebos) were sitting up one night,listening to music and analyzing songs...and i ...hmmm...hesitated...Do I really want to go there? But I took the chance..and yes, the music is very moving with verbage and memory...profoundly bittersweet.
Onto another topic...Love and the twisting of the word. Whenever I think of the word "love", the visual memory of having to give my mother a kiss goodnight and tell her I love her...oh, I am quite repulsed at the thought, immediately springs to mind. The word, to me, is twisted, perverted, sickly, wanton, flagrant, bullying, a tool and a weapon, a gun at my head that threatens, a doormat, laying on the floor, please walk on order...fuck...Ummm, how could such a simple little word that, hmmm, typically, denotes some sort of happiness reflect, gotten to the point that it means the exact opposite. I say "love" and I see hands wringing tightly trying to squeeze something out of nothing. And I remember thinking, in regards to my mother and her endless request for my saying the vulgar and perverted This Is....a woman, a person who so desperately wanted my love yet was unable to show the same to me? I mean, I never felt love from her...shouldn't the saying of the word actually mean one feels it? How empty....It was then that I consciously became aware that words are often said that are empty and have no real meaning or feeling behind them.
She was an empty shell of a woman...damn, I don't mean anything against her...she did the best she could and I bear her no ill will whatsoever...Yeah, she failed to "protect me"...what a was a cultural thing, incest and abuse was so rampant in my family line, she was simply following suit...whatever...I have moved on from that...Ya Think?
Anyway, back when I was 17 and I had to perform this nightly ritual...I vowed...OH Big Lightbulb...that I would never, ever be so shallow as to say things without feeling and meaning them. Damn, my words come back to haunt me, yet again. Thus, since I said it, it was written in stone and i have adhered to that principal. My word is my bond.
Getting back, I think I need to find a way to untwist this I hear it is really rather pleasant. Somehow find a way to disengage from this particle of the past that continues to haunt and mislead.
So when I think of her....I feel ill...its like she was so consumed with, oh gosh, there must be some fun psychological terminology out there that would best describe her other than, "The woman had some problems...some deep-seated issues..." She was so full of anxiety, I can sense the palpitations coming on from here...So chock full of fear and warning...fear that someone would find out what was happening in the house (and it was dreadful and sick and twisted and perverted, let me tell ya)...and that her beloved (Phff..I spat, please excuse) children would be taken away because they were being beaten and raped and they hadn't eaten in days and there was no heat in the house...blah, blah, blah...shit...(one of these days I sooo want to let go of this shit)....and afraid of doctors, medicine, prying teachers, microwaves, drinking the water(Ahh, for a glass of Kool aid right now), foreigners, strangers, demons, dementors, police, you name it.....Seriously, she was afraid of everything and everyone and she felt it her motherly, smootherly, and paranoid duty to espouse and share those lovely fragments of her imagination with her eldest daughter.
And I, the dutiful Sponge, absorbed and took it upon myself to Believe her and her rants because....Because I wanted her to love me and to allow that to happen...hmmm, I validated her "claims" and absorbed all of her fear lest she feel alone on that island where the palm tress were evil spirits trying to steal her soul and the conch shells were really ticking time bombs..shhh,only she can hear them and the antichrist lived in the about to erupt volcano.....This is sooo not amusing, not fucking funny at all. Shit, this is her...and it became me...little children are little sponges and being so faithful and being so Aspie and having no clear definition of boundaries, OMg, yeah, its a butt-ugly truth.
She made me promise things....promise to always take care of her...promise
I don't know...whilst I may have been tainted by her...I didn't become, to roll back the hands of time and try and untangle her from me. hmmm, love,foul, empty, meaningless, there is sooo much wrong with that picture. I'll have to work on that...
Its kindof like, hmmm, having on a lifevest that is two sizes too tight and it is slowly filling with sand...hmm, funny, in one of her many wise moments, she talked, asked about which manner of death I thought would be the least painful...I know..What the Fuck kindof question is that to ask your 13 year old daughter?....yeah, she thought drowning would be least painful...well, it is far from painful...
but...if I remove this vest...fuck, her fear is the only thing tangible that she ever gave me
but...maybe its time to let it take it off..damn, that thing is fastened on pretty darn tight...
for letting go of that...this painful, suffocating feeling of constantly drowning, this fear that the world is sooo extremely unsafe, dangerous, strangers will fucking snatch me and do unspeakable things...fuck..yeah, the irony....but I sidetrack..try the ol' avoidance trick...yeah, if I will...willingly remove this is all I have of will be a surrender..a giving up...of the hope (ouch, theres That word) the hope, that she ever, ever will love me...oopps there slips away my fairy tale dreams...hmmm, the fucking quandry...drown in the hope, holding on to the only thing she ever gave me...I clasp my hands around the thorns on the thin sickly stem....blood pours from the wounds....and I have an extreme fight with myself...give me a minute............
I think its a common fallacy, that when someone is born that they will have parents that will love them.....thats logic talking.....I don't hate her...really, she is a good person..just incapable of ever loving me..maybe I should let that go...cause, honey, it ain't ever going to happen...
okay, so I look at the bleeding of my now empty what...they'll heal...everything some point....whatever....
how could I have ever actually reached out for anyone, if I had kept hold of that?, the stem of the rose?
And I start untying the knots....see, I had put a couple lengths of this really heavy duty rope around this life vest, lest it fall of in my sleep...or when I wasn't looking....and those knots,man, have they kindof eroded and corroded after being there so long and being dragged thru all the mud and shit of these, nimble fingers, do thy work....
and the first one, the first knot, is the biggest and tightest...take a breath, .......okay, one down...I rub my hands together..they hurt from the effort...then its time for the next one, smaller than the first, but just as tight...i feel so dirty..hmm, like i promised to drown so you wouldn't have to go it alone..she hated being alone, doing anything alone, i think she was helpless, never even learning to drive because...because then someone would always have to help her, the only way people would be willing to be around her...she delighted(perverted) being helpless...the only way people would pay attention to her..if she were helpless...see what lessons she taught her kids
the second knot, on a different level then the first, a bit more visceral, less emotional, more of a plaything and a way she viewed outer rim, on the outside, the external world.....the games she played and taught...hmmm...bullshit...its just another level of garbage....
anyway, this second knot, okay, bit more complex....because it encompassed more years, more tactics, everyday existence...all the ways she adapted to meet her needs..and, hmmm, ways I also learned....its time to change my ways...i can let this go...
and the ropes fall to the floor....and I take a deep breath...and yeah, it hurts...don't think that I have ever .and I can picture her sitting across the table from me (yeah, many reasons my sanity has been previously questioned...whatever)...
And she sits there smiling...she always smiled for everyone, the greatest clown face, exterior mask that she always wore for everyone, outside of the house....(its a ploy...don't believe it...means nothing)...
And, still wearing my vest, my present, She says "Are you sure you want to do that?" in reference to me getting ready to remove it...and i say "Yes"...I look her in the eye...yup, it is empty in there and I feel no guilt, remorse, not even pity....and I ask her to've got work to do.
....with only a few seconds of thought...I remove the heavy, calloused, weeping, poky vest, and I give it back to her..."this is can have it back now...."
She leaves...and I let her

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Silent Running, Frozen River

I stand beside the frozen river...scratching my head. Its silent here...the screaming is far off in the removed it is nothing but a distant hum. Snow gently falls making the most lightest of birds landing on a nearby can hear it, if you listen.
My feet, once frozen are showing signs of warmth...I can feel my toes again. I wear seven layers yet I still feel over exposed. I think I will walk a few steps..just to see how far the river is froze. Methinks it will stretch for a mile or so.
My path is blocked by the massive boulder of snow and ice. Taller and broader even than I. Not sure if I want to attempt to move it, to try and break it down into smaller chunks and toss off to the side. Maybe if I close my eyes and just grab a handful and toss, it won't seem so imposing and it won't hurt so much to do.
I think I'll just sit here awhile...until the sun comes and slowly starts to melt me.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Aspergers, How it Feels...Awareness..Living in My Own Little World

Having Aspergers, for this alien, is like walking through life with a blanket over my head. Its a heavy, brown and opaque (not letting light or anything else, for that matter, pass through) impenetrable barrier. The blanket is completely within my control. Sure, some have tried to lift it up, from the outside, but it proved to be too mighty of a task.
That is kindof what it feels like for me. I am separate from others unless I "lift the veil".
It is a source of protection as it attempts to keep out all the extraneous stimuli...It helps me to not lose focus or be drawn into inconsequential drivel, small talk and gossip.
I have to remember to lift it up.. I can literally spend days conversing and interacting with, say, my partner and not "see" her. I don't know if it is purely physically, and i fail to look her in the eye at all, or that I just am unable to focus on her at all. She may get, oh, a new haircut or something as odd as a little scratch on her nose and I,literally, will not notice it.
I took my seven yr old to the dentist and the guy remarks that my son "has a deep bite, which you probably already noticed.." Ahhh, nope, I just see a beautiful little guy and never really focused on what type of bite he had. Plus, it was simply something that I was totally unfamiliar with, so I asked hi to explain it to me, which he promptly and kindly did.
I am not real aware of the outside world, at times.
I often don't know when school is off for the day or only half-day because its hard to pay attention and read i the dark the bulletins sent home from school. Thankfully I have a great partner and some friends that now know to mention such things to me.
I rarely look in the mirror...I guess I don't know how they work.I went so far as to buy one for right beside the door I always exit. Hmm, I guess one is actually supposed to stand in front of it and peer. Obviously, it is a pretty decoration with little practicality for me.
When you live in your own are your own best friend and worst enemy rolled into one. It becomes so comfortable and familiar in there that it is hard to venture out of it.
Lately, I have been teaching myself to do new, more aware when my partner comes home from work, I have to stop whatever I am doing (Not easy) and give her a hug and ask her how her day was...then I Have To Listen and Look at Her. Yeah, its new, but I have been doing it with my boys so I have some practice in it :) It is a conscious effort but worth it..she is great!
Anyway, thats it for now...later

Thursday, January 13, 2011

My So-Called Life on DVD...a review

For christmas I ended up with the DVD Collection of My So-Called Life. Since that time, I have had ample opportunity to watch it a few times. Now, I remember all the reasons why I liked this short lived television series from 1991.
MSCL was break-through tv. It was the first show that portrayed what life was like from the inside out. Angelas narrative thoughts were and continue to be, quite profound and very insightful. A glimpse into her world allowed other teenagers and parents to feel what it was realty like to be a teenager in the early 90's.
It is raw and gritty with the pumped up beautification, valley girl lingo,pimped up hair dos and clothing of Beverly Hills 90210 removed.Its the real deal.
Clair Danes is fabulous as central character Angela Chase. She is introspective and looking for love...trying to find herself amongst the ashes. Her mother, Patty, is a rather annoying character who reeks of perfectionist tendencies and over achievement. Ah, another child who never lived up to her parents lofty expectations. Yeah, she can be pretty hard to watch sometimes.
Her father, Graham, is well meaning, kindof searching for himself as well and extremely henpecked. He cowers to his wifes every whim and he don't wear the pants in that family, Patty demasculanized him ages ago. He does play the concerned, caring, even-keeled parent very well.
Wilson Cruz plays Rickie, the feminine, gay character that brought teenage homosexuality, homelessness and abuse out of the closet for all to see. I remember the weird feeling I got when he would just walk into the girls bathroom and like, no one tried to show him out...the girls just accepted him for, well, just another girl. He was a cool gay guy who wasn't constantly on the prowl...a great character and a good, caring, trusted friend.
Sharon is Angelas once childhood friend. Somehow they part ways in high school but manage to have that "sisterly" feeling towards one another. They still care for each other, just at more of a distance. Sharon turns out to be the character who engages in and talks about her sex life. OMG,teens have sex?? Yeah, it really was pretty darn honest and somewhat informative.
Rayanne, oh I struggle with liking this character. Rayanne is the flower-child of the single, "new age", liberal, hands-off parent who drinks cocktails in the morning and has no visible means of support. Rayanne is absolutely obnoxious in her manner of speaking, clothes, hair, you name it. She is the typical teen who skips school, drinks to excess, has sex with as many guys as she can and she is Angelas new best friend.
Angela and Rayanne are total opposites...maybe thats why they ended up as close buddies...each wanting what the other one has. Rayanne is smitten with Angelas caring father and Angela longs for the freedom of expression and non-overbearing, tolerant mom.
Brian Krakow is the guy next door, the boyhood friend we all grew up with. He is a straight A student, kind, never gets into trouble...and he harbors a long-hidden secret crush on Angela that he can never fully admit to. Yeah, Angela would have been so much better off if she and Brian had just got wild and naked one night in the bushes...but No, Angela falls for a boy named Jordan Catalano.
Jordan Catalano is nothing but pure, physical animal lust and attraction. He is gorgeous but not too smart. Heck, he can't even read but Angela falls for him. His goal in life is to be one of those guys that runs the snow making machine at a ski resort. And no one ever just says, "Jordan",..its always "Jordan Catalono" as if it is, like, one word. Jordan has problems and issues of his own from the illiteracy, abusive home life and being a tool for his friends, his guy buddies who practically drag him around on a lease. He is a cad for wanting to hide his relationship with Angela from them. Its almost like he is ashamed of her...and she takes it, for awhile.
Tino, who the heck is Tino? His name gets mentioned in almost every episode. He is some invisible, cult leader-like figure who: named the band Frozen Embryos and is the lead singer, gives rides to Rickie and Rayanne, arranges music gigs and doesn't show up, finds empty houses for the kids to party in, etc...
I like this series because it really was the first tv that was honest and true, not sugar-coated and fluffy. It told it like it really was..High School was uncomfortable, a jockeying for position, a conundrum of expectations from every direction, mass confusion, hormones,etc...
If you ever get a chance to watch this series or rent the dvd, check it out

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Making Strange Noises...Theres a word for it...Vocal Tics & Aspergers

For quite awhile, I have been searching for the word or term for my various odd utterances...those moments were words escape me and I produce a series of vocalizations, grunts, animal noises, or otherwise strange sounds that are not words. Things such as aarrgh, which I call my pirate sound and tht, tht, tht, tht, in which it sounds like a rapid fire machine gun or phewsh, which is more like a cannonball hitting the water. These are some of the sounds I produce when I get stressed and my word/ verbal center shuts down or short-circuits and I am reduced to mere utterances.
Well,I finally found the name for it: Vocal Tic (also similarly verbal tic or phonic tic)- an involuntary sound produced by moving air through the nose, mouth or throat; VTs include throat-clearing sounds & sniffing to grunts & verbalizations of syllables & words, utterances of inappropriate or undesired statements or obscenities.
There are two types: Simple- single sounds-eg. throat-clearing, barking, sniffing and Complex-verbalizations- expressions of words-eg. coprolalia (from Greek kopros "feces" + lalein "to talk", involuntary swearing or the involuntary utterance of obscene words or socially inappropriate and derogatory remarks), echolalia (repeating of the persons own words), palilalia (repeating ones own previously spoken words)
VTs frequently change and vary in severity and over time remissions and exacerbations are common.
Whew, now that makes some good sense. That is what I have from time to time. I seem to only have vocal tics when I am stressed out or feeling strong, conflicting or overwhelming emotion.
I love it when I find the proper term for things and it drives me nuts when I fail to locate it. Every thing has an appropriate term and once i can find that term, it all makes sense. Its like I keep trying to build this house of cards and if I can't find the word, I can never get to the top...that one level just refuses to stay in place and support the next. Dang, thats a very strange analogy but it is the immediate visual that I experienced..somewhere, deep within my head, it makes sense :)

Monday, January 10, 2011

Being Alone...Feeling Lonely...

I don't know what it is about the past few days...but I have been caught in quite a personal dilemma. I want to be alone and i shudder at the thought of going out and running into people. I would enjoy going to the gym, I crave a workout, but the mere thought of running into anyone, known or unknown, squashes that possibility.
Its like I want to be alone...but with someone else. I have thoughts to share but I don't want to put out the effort. I feel alone in and amongst myself yet part of me desires human contact.
It seems like I am in a place where I just can't win either way I go.

And there are some things that I really wish I had an answer to... Why is it so damn hard to ask for anything? And why does rejection, saying "no" hurt so bad? It's not like I am a little kid and I can't have cookies fro the cookie jar but the fear of rejection does tend to keep me from asking questions.
Maybe its the whole "oversensitivity" thingy...I don't know.

Seasonal Affective Disorder....It does seem like my sensitivity level does go up and down and I realize that right now it is at a high point. Its really best for me to stay in and work on getting some better shielding in place. So, I guess I will settle for feeling somewhat lonely instead of being easily overwhelmed and unnecessarily hurt by well-meaning or average remarks.
It seems easier to feel alone and slightly lost when the ground and everything is so bare, raw and exposed.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Conversation and this Aspie

Believe it or not, I very rarely have face-to-face conversations. For the most part I have brief discussions with people as we are walking, at the same table side-by-side or sitting in a car. So, today, I had a face-to-face convo with a good friend and I was kindof surprised with how my Aspie behavior went.
Okay, so it was a bit longer than most of my talks...over an hour. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, don't get me wrong...I just had a heckuva time maintaining eye contact for even short bursts of a minute or so. I didn't feel that I was being polite by continually glancing out the window or away so i tried the "fuzzy" thinking whereby I looked in her direction but took on a "not really looking" approach.
Eye just seems so intrusive. Not when they are looking at me but when I am looking at someone else. I just really wasn't able to do it well today. Yeah, I surprized myself there. And I do realize that some days that social function does work better than others and it depends on who I am with but, really, I thought it would have been easier...much easier.
My second dilemma....I couldn't figure out when she was done talking or finished her sentence or thought. I mean, I am really listening, but I couldn't find the appropriate pauses or indicators that said she was done.
After interrupting her repeatedly, I noticed an interesting thing...When she was talking, after a while she would look away and continue her story. It was as if by looking away she was telling me that she was still on the same subject. Then when she did look at me, I understood that she had finished. Its almost like she, both very patient and probably tired of the incessant interrupting, was giving Me a clue.
I tell ya, I really fully watched and listened and I had no clue as to when her story was done. I watched her face very, very closely...and i looked for those pauses that were my cue.
And maybe it is partially simply her manner of speaking in such a calm, easy, not up and down tone that gave me more difficulty. Some people have lots of up and down and when the tone goes way down, its my turn.
Hmmm...I do apologize for my interrupting. I tried my best but this Aspie ain't perfect, darling. Yeah, I'm okay with that. I am so glad that I was able to have lunch with her and I hope I can read her a bit better next time :)

Thought of the Day....

I have traveled great distances

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Acheiria...Younglink is a Natural Lefty

The above is the reindeer picture that Younglink made at school. He became quite "nervous" and uncomfortable when the teacher talked about what they would be creating. After consulting the teacher, she did everything possible to make it easier for him to complete the project and be proud of his work.
Anyway, I I finally got his occupational therapist to admit that Younglink is a natural-born lefty. Of course, the rub is...he has no left hand.
Honestly, as his mom, the funniest and quite amusing aspect of all this is that I had asked his OT on numerous occasions if his handwriting was so challenging because he was a "Lefty". She would just shrug and move on to something else. It made her uncomfortable. So today, when I said, "he is not naturally right-handed, is he?"...OMG, she turned the brightest shade of red and shook her head,"Yes".
I'm not sure why it made her sooo embarrassed to finally admit what my partner and I have thought for so long. Maybe its that its a new situation for this young OT.
So I told her.."I know there isn't a damn thing we can do about it but work with him." And I gave her a friendly arm punch and chuckled and said, "He's going to be working with you for Quite Some Time". (which, on the positive, is great news as his OT is a wonderful, patient caring person who very much enjoys working with Younglink and, likewise, Younglink adores her :)Plus, I wanted to lighten the mood because...Because..
It really doesn't matter what his "handedness" is!!!! Sure, it is a little more work for the little guy, but he is a trooper and he can do this! I will talk to his teacher and explain the situation so she can help him with his handwriting and be more understanding when she cannot read his writing.
Its okay people! For some reason, this amuses me to no end. Its just nice to have the answer sometimes, you know? There is a reason that he has to work so hard at making his writing legible...and its ok...we can deal...
Just wanted to share.
Oh, yeah, I did make an appt to have his "helper" prosthetic refit so it wears better. Maybe it would be helpful if he decided to wear it more often. We'll see.
Have a great day :)

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Playing Games, Losing, Physical Discomfort

I have noticed a very odd thing. I play online poker rather frequently and lately, when I lose, I get a bothersome physical reaction to the point where I decided to stop playing. I have noticed this previously. It seems to be something that comes and goes.
The sensation is unlike anything that I can compare it to. It definitely takes place in the solar plexus, the area below the sternum and between the bottom of the a hands width above the navel.
And it feels like, a pseudo blow...being punched, but vaguely. It is a sense of feeling ill, uncomfortable...not sure I would call it "actual" pain because its not as strong as that. It kindof makes me want to double over and protect myself there. It is definitely distressing and bothersome.
I have kindof felt twinges of it off and on, the past week..and today it just became way too much.
Looking back, I have had previous episodes. The only treatment I know of is to stop playing games for awhile until it is completely gone. Not a bad thing.
Its like losing is physically uncomfortable. Winning does have an effect, in that same area...hmmm...very weird.
I haven't read about it anywhere and I would like to find out more info about it. If anyone has heard of such a thing, or has experienced, please let me know.