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Location:Christmas is
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Hatred...not for the faint of heart
I hate that people say and think, "it happened so long ago, why don't you just get over it?", "everyone had a lousey childhood, so what? Move on", "why do you keep bringing up the same shit over and over and over again?", "why don't you love your mother and father...what's wrong with you?"
I hate that most don't understand my wretched pain. I hate that I have worked so fucking hard to keep it hidden inside. I hate that I believed hate was wrong and that I was evil for secretly harboring hateful thoughts All These Years.
I hated life for days upon days and years upon years. I hated waking up still fucking alive, knowing full well what each day would bring. I hate the people that I mistakenly believed loved me. It was all lies...but I believed it, everyone around me wanted me to believe them, mom and dad were so fucking sure they loved me and I was fucking sure they were wrong and I fucking hated them, their every breath, an insult, I wanted them dead so very badly. I wanted to wake up to shotgun blasts and find them murdered/ suicided downstairs in the living room. It was my only hope of freedom, that they would off each other in a murderous rage. And it fucking never happened and I hated myself for harboring such ill will.
I hated that my siblings professed to love them. I hated that other amity members loved them, that anyone thought well or highly of them...I hated that, cause they didn't know, didn't know what they did in their own house, to their own kids and I so wanted to set the record straight and I could never find a way to tell them, to say the truth. I hate that I was a secret, deviant pleasure that was used as an outward expression of how much they hated their own piddley lives. I hate that I was a fucking punching bag, child sex toy and the embodiment, the target of every ouch of anger and hatred they had ever experienced.
I hate how much they hated me with every fucking fiber of their being, with their eyes, stares, angry, spittle flying mouths and venom filled words. While professing such deep, abiding love for their children, they looked at me with lust and hate.
I hated living every day. I hated breathing, being hungry and never being fed. I hated craving affection only to find it in dark basements. I hated the needs my body had, it needed, wanted, craved so much..denied, denied, denied. Why on earth was I fucking put here to suffer so? I didn't get it. Some fucked up sick joke. I hated being born over and over and over.
I hated walking amongst people and kids who looked happy, content, loved and fed whose biggest worry was trying to get an A in class, or a date for the prom. I hated that I had to constantly try and find ways to steal money to but food, think of ways to dissuade parents from hitting me, and of not being caught alone with my dad.
I hated the fucking secrets, secrets and lies. I had to always say that everything was fine, I wasnt hungry, I wasn't hurting, i wasn't being forced to have sex with my dad.
I have such hatred, jealousy, anger at no one for fucking helping me. No one. No one. Not a single soul. So I figured I must have deserved it all. This was my lot in life, nothing more. I became thoroughly attached to that identity. Fully believing I need to suffer to be alive. This my karmic truth. Didn't know what it was Not to suffer. Not suffering is kinda confusing when it was all that I knew and experienced and no one wanted to hear it, acknowledge it, but pretend it didn't exist. Who lives in a fantasy word now? Let's not believe what she says...it's too painful and heart breaking to truly know how much pain she is in and how much she really suffered.
I sometimes hate that I didn't off myself a long, long time ago. Hate that I got weak when opportunities arose.
I really hate that no one loved me. I do really hate that.
Childish thoughts..I hate I wasn't good enough, pretty enough, worthy enough to someone earn love. Hate that I always thought their actions were a direct result of something I did or didn't do, which was never the case. Hate that I was such an easy target, victim, autistic, quiet, loyal.
Hate that no one....listened to my silence.
No one saw the truth in my eyes....the frail, sickly little bruised body.
Felt life deceived me, was always tricking me, hope was a stupid, absolutely absurd word. I had no hope.
Hated living like an animal, with dirty hole-filled clothes, eating small scraps and stealing food when I could. Relegated to a very subpar station in life and seeing all around me the opulence of normality, of the non-animals who had warm beds and full bellies.
Hate that my adult life is a day to day struggle to heal my broken childhood...and few people can really understand it.
Hate that I think I still hold on to that need to suffer because I was bad, because I lived it so long. Hate that I thought god hated me along with every body else. Hate that I thought I needed punishment, suffering, malady after malady because it's what I deserved.
Probably always hate that they didn't, couldn't love me....need to get over that...outside their capabilities.
Wonder if under all these heaps of hatred...if I can ever love myself....and forgive. I wonder.
Maybe I'll stop hating myself.
Maybe I'll stop lying to myself and continue to be honest about my feelings good and bad.
Therapys a Bitch! And kind, caring people continue to befuddle me with their extremely strange behaviour.
Deserve it...yeah, working on accepting this new breed of people surrounding me.
Not gonna beat myself up for beating dead horses, for repeating old lines, for rehashing things that bother me.
Heart chakra issues....releasing hatred trying to find ways to love myself, genuinely, for the first time.
Acknowledging, letting go of so veryvery much hatred that I've kept hidden inside, afraid to offend anyone with my truth.
Time to let go of hating myself, my thoughts and feelings. It's just me.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Monday, October 21, 2013
The Heart Speaks...
....softly, timidly, in hushed whispers
I think we all come in to this world
Believing we will be welcomed
With open arms and love
Like an unspoken promise,
A pinky swear
We come here, expecting to be loved and cared for. Sometimes that doesn't happen.
I will never know a mothers love towards me. Never felt it. Never will. There are no replacements or stand ins...it just wasn't meant to be. There will always be grief, a sense of loss, of injustice, but it is true. I can't change it. Just accept it. It's ok.
The heart speaks of wanting to be physically close to others. Yet the price is too high or misunderstood. People that like touch are often ridiculed. I just want someone close, near, warm, tell me that I am really here, that I am not ostracized and alone.
I live within a very tight, small sense of the world. I don't take up much space. I have like a 12 inch perimeter in which I experience 90% of the world. It's hard for me to reach out past this space. Don't ask me to raise my hand or gesture, much less...spread my arms open wide. I only experience the outside world within this quite short distance.
The heart wishes for quiet comfort. For people that do not want to take. For someone that can be near, to feel not alone, yet not imposed upon.
The heart is afraid to speak its dreams and longings because they seem to be so simple, almost childish. Acceptance. Someone to sit alone in the dark without the tangle of words or the scent of sex.
Naive, innocent, not taking, not bearing.
The heart has been horribly hurt, but is learning how to warily heal.
The words nice and kind are bigger then you know. A genuine smile is more than money.
Should we tell them how much we can read in their eyes? Their words, tones and subtle gestures? Shall we tell them we can sense their disinterest, distraction and apathy? Everyone so wrapped up in themselves, in old, worn out, tightly embedded ideas. Should we tell them all that we see in them?
Dare we mention...the very littlelittle things that can make us happy beyond belief?
Simpletons in a world that thrives on the drama of complications and social mainstreaming.
The heart wants to sit quietly....and tell its secrets..reveal the wounds of who cut who there, with what and where. The wounds are not pretty. And the telling is likely to hurt everyone in the conversation.
The heart needs to know....that it's okay to talk now. That it's okay to feel now. That it's okay to let go now. I start talking but it rains a lot. So much has been kept held...imprisoned. I'm gonna get me a key. I'm gonna write and I'm gonna talk. And I'm not a sure exactly where or how this will go. But I move forward. I have a feeling that there is a lot to be said.
I think we all come in to this world
Believing we will be welcomed
With open arms and love
Like an unspoken promise,
A pinky swear
We come here, expecting to be loved and cared for. Sometimes that doesn't happen.
I will never know a mothers love towards me. Never felt it. Never will. There are no replacements or stand ins...it just wasn't meant to be. There will always be grief, a sense of loss, of injustice, but it is true. I can't change it. Just accept it. It's ok.
The heart speaks of wanting to be physically close to others. Yet the price is too high or misunderstood. People that like touch are often ridiculed. I just want someone close, near, warm, tell me that I am really here, that I am not ostracized and alone.
I live within a very tight, small sense of the world. I don't take up much space. I have like a 12 inch perimeter in which I experience 90% of the world. It's hard for me to reach out past this space. Don't ask me to raise my hand or gesture, much less...spread my arms open wide. I only experience the outside world within this quite short distance.
The heart wishes for quiet comfort. For people that do not want to take. For someone that can be near, to feel not alone, yet not imposed upon.
The heart is afraid to speak its dreams and longings because they seem to be so simple, almost childish. Acceptance. Someone to sit alone in the dark without the tangle of words or the scent of sex.
Naive, innocent, not taking, not bearing.
The heart has been horribly hurt, but is learning how to warily heal.
The words nice and kind are bigger then you know. A genuine smile is more than money.
Should we tell them how much we can read in their eyes? Their words, tones and subtle gestures? Shall we tell them we can sense their disinterest, distraction and apathy? Everyone so wrapped up in themselves, in old, worn out, tightly embedded ideas. Should we tell them all that we see in them?
Dare we mention...the very littlelittle things that can make us happy beyond belief?
Simpletons in a world that thrives on the drama of complications and social mainstreaming.
The heart wants to sit quietly....and tell its secrets..reveal the wounds of who cut who there, with what and where. The wounds are not pretty. And the telling is likely to hurt everyone in the conversation.
The heart needs to know....that it's okay to talk now. That it's okay to feel now. That it's okay to let go now. I start talking but it rains a lot. So much has been kept held...imprisoned. I'm gonna get me a key. I'm gonna write and I'm gonna talk. And I'm not a sure exactly where or how this will go. But I move forward. I have a feeling that there is a lot to be said.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Autumn Colors in Northern Michigan
I don't believe that I have ever appreciated the colors of Fall until this very day.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
What is a meltdown?
When the long-toothed, snarly, rabid emotions find the key and set them self loose from the reinforced locked room, take over and run rampant dragging you by the ankle, in circles at 100 mph
Complete and utter lose of footing and control.
Meltdown, Comfort Me Suzanne Vega "Gypsy"
Sometimes I feel like I'm a powder keg....and someone has thrown a lit match
Meltdown
"You come from far away
With pictures in your eyes"
Unexpectedly, I was put in a situation that caused me great internal strife. Couldn't figure out what I was supposed to say, how to escape, how to stop the verbal barrage...
"Of coffee shops and morning streets
In the blue and silent sunrise"
And this...person, would not shut the fuck up.
Then she realized I was upset. Asked what was going on. Wanted to take me to another room, away from my highly distressed son, and Talk Some More.
How can I make these fucking idiots realize that there comes a point in which words become flaming weapons of hurt?
At these times, I have to, have to, for my own safety and protection, figuratively Slam the Door, shut them out, pretend they have disappeared off the face of the earth because The Words Hurt Too Much! In the interest of stopping pain, I run. I'm a runner. When stuck, stymied, on the verge of uncontrollable emotion, I drop everything and I Run.
I slammed the door.
And then she tried calling me at the house.
I cannot deal anymore. I refused to "pick up and deal" because I cannot!!
"But night is the cathedral
Where we recognize the sign
We strangers know each other now
As part of the whole design"
I feel like a bird without wings, completely useless to fly outside. Do you think, if others knew....how precarious and fragile the autistic survivor is.....that they might hold me up? Off the damp ground? And help me find my wings?
Do you think that they might look, before they throw the match?
Because once I'm lit baby, once I start to crumble and melt, it's easily hours and days before I can find my feet and open the door and step out again.
Forgive them, for they know not how easily we hurt.
"Oh, hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you through the heat"
They don't realize the toll of this everyday existence. They are clueless to the strategies, planning, maneuvers, strife and electrified wire we must cross to make it through this minefield.
Why is solace easily found alone? And what of comfort? Can an Aspie find comfort in someone else's arms? Can a survivor? Others are so complex, manipulative and they talk too damn much.
"You are the jester
Of this courtyard
With a smile
Like a girls"
I keep thinking if I arrange the pillows and blankets just right...maybe it will feel like someone is holding me, comforting me.
"Distracted by the women
With the dimples and the curls"
And there is comfort in music. In the warm, mystical lyrics and rhythms of Suzanne Vega:)
"By the pretty and the mischievous
By the timid and the blessed
By the bowing skirts of ladies
Who promise to gather you to their breast"
I'm guessing many have favorite songs that offer some relief. That allow one to drift to soft visions and away from the pain.
"Oh, hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you through the heat"
My faults, weaknesses are showing, like a slip showing, or toilet paper stuck to my shoe.
I hadn't cried in front of this person before. Can't fathom meeting her again face-to-face. Can't even deal with the thought of speaking to her.
Know what? I Don't Have To
Yup, I care about myself enough to avoid any further deep distress.
"You have hands of raining water
And that earring in your ear
The wisdom on your face
Denies the number of your years
With the fingers of the potter
And the laughing of the fool
The arranger of disorder
With your strange and simple rules
Yes now I've met me another spinner
Of strange and gauzy threads
With a long and slender body
And a bump upon the head"
Wow, didn't realize how exceptionally well this song fits.
"Oh, hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep.....
Thanks Suzanne
Hi Lis
Maybe tomorrow will be even a bit better
Meltdown
"You come from far away
With pictures in your eyes"
Unexpectedly, I was put in a situation that caused me great internal strife. Couldn't figure out what I was supposed to say, how to escape, how to stop the verbal barrage...
"Of coffee shops and morning streets
In the blue and silent sunrise"
And this...person, would not shut the fuck up.
Then she realized I was upset. Asked what was going on. Wanted to take me to another room, away from my highly distressed son, and Talk Some More.
How can I make these fucking idiots realize that there comes a point in which words become flaming weapons of hurt?
At these times, I have to, have to, for my own safety and protection, figuratively Slam the Door, shut them out, pretend they have disappeared off the face of the earth because The Words Hurt Too Much! In the interest of stopping pain, I run. I'm a runner. When stuck, stymied, on the verge of uncontrollable emotion, I drop everything and I Run.
I slammed the door.
And then she tried calling me at the house.
I cannot deal anymore. I refused to "pick up and deal" because I cannot!!
"But night is the cathedral
Where we recognize the sign
We strangers know each other now
As part of the whole design"
I feel like a bird without wings, completely useless to fly outside. Do you think, if others knew....how precarious and fragile the autistic survivor is.....that they might hold me up? Off the damp ground? And help me find my wings?
Do you think that they might look, before they throw the match?
Because once I'm lit baby, once I start to crumble and melt, it's easily hours and days before I can find my feet and open the door and step out again.
Forgive them, for they know not how easily we hurt.
"Oh, hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you through the heat"
They don't realize the toll of this everyday existence. They are clueless to the strategies, planning, maneuvers, strife and electrified wire we must cross to make it through this minefield.
Why is solace easily found alone? And what of comfort? Can an Aspie find comfort in someone else's arms? Can a survivor? Others are so complex, manipulative and they talk too damn much.
"You are the jester
Of this courtyard
With a smile
Like a girls"
I keep thinking if I arrange the pillows and blankets just right...maybe it will feel like someone is holding me, comforting me.
"Distracted by the women
With the dimples and the curls"
And there is comfort in music. In the warm, mystical lyrics and rhythms of Suzanne Vega:)
"By the pretty and the mischievous
By the timid and the blessed
By the bowing skirts of ladies
Who promise to gather you to their breast"
I'm guessing many have favorite songs that offer some relief. That allow one to drift to soft visions and away from the pain.
"Oh, hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you through the heat"
My faults, weaknesses are showing, like a slip showing, or toilet paper stuck to my shoe.
I hadn't cried in front of this person before. Can't fathom meeting her again face-to-face. Can't even deal with the thought of speaking to her.
Know what? I Don't Have To
Yup, I care about myself enough to avoid any further deep distress.
"You have hands of raining water
And that earring in your ear
The wisdom on your face
Denies the number of your years
With the fingers of the potter
And the laughing of the fool
The arranger of disorder
With your strange and simple rules
Yes now I've met me another spinner
Of strange and gauzy threads
With a long and slender body
And a bump upon the head"
Wow, didn't realize how exceptionally well this song fits.
"Oh, hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep.....
Thanks Suzanne
Hi Lis
Maybe tomorrow will be even a bit better
"Grace" Shadow Box
I made this a while back. Thought it was time to share. It features a photo of my great grandma Grace:)
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Info for those who love an autistic, spouse, partner, boyfriend, girlfriend
Found a very interesting blog, Dancing With Ludwig, written by a boyfriend who is NT and his girlfriend is Apergers. Just wanted to recommend:) it isn't often I find good material for the caring NT.
Friday, September 6, 2013
People I have told, informed I have Aspergers
I've seen this question frequently on Aspie groups....who needs to know I have Aspergers?
First off, I usually mention that I have "Aspergers which is a mild form of autism." I'm never sure who is familiar with "Aspergers", but I believe most people can understand "mild autism".
My Partner was the first person to be informed about my Aspergers. Actually, she and I found out together so it was easy. If she hadn't known, she would have been the first person I talked about it with. She's my partner of 18 years and my best friend:)
After my Partner, I mentioned it to my family physician. My Nurse Practitioner has a mental health background and is very Smart. She has helped me find the right medications to manage my high anxiety (a hallmark and bane of Aspies) and my chronic insomnia.
Next, I told family members. I had a lot of explaining to do there, but I think it helped them understand why I've behaved in different, unpredictable, anti-social ways. I'm glad I could clear up their misconceptions about me. I'm not difficult, rude, inconsiderate Or self-centered...just an autistic with oversensitivities normal for my species:)
My older son also has Aspergers, so I needn't have explained much to him. He and I share the majority of Aspie traits. My LittleGuy, who is almost ten, I waited until he was about five or so, and let him know why mommy is different and stays home a lot. As he has grown and matured, I've been able to share what makes me different and what is very challenging for me due to my Aspergers. He asks questions, now and then, and I answer truthfully and based on his comprehension.
It seems like...some people might harbor shame or uncertainty about being autistic. It's just who we are. I feel no need to hide it. It no longer makes me feel vulnerable when I mention it to others. On the contrary, I keep finding more people that want to help and understand me.
Back to the original question.....It's important that close friends know I'm autistic. I have very few, but I talk to them about it. My neighbors, whom I frequently run to when I'm in distress or get horribly scared and confused, are also on my "need-to-know" list. This helps out especially when I am overwhelmed in tears and distress. I don't have to work so hard to make words and force msef to talk. I have great neighbors...now that I think about it.
Another group of people I feel should know, are my LittleGuys school teachers. I deal with these people on a daily basis and I know I am different. I often need to ask questions more than once; I need help understanding forms and assignments NTs usually comprehend. I oft get emotional, (yup, I'm a bust out in tears when I get stressed person) when discussing tough issues and they tend to be pretty darn understanding and try and help me. So teachers are important to inform.
My dentist is another person that comes to mind. Although I have the greatest, most compassionate dentist and techs, I'd like to think they treat me just a little more gently than most. Hmmm, if that is one word of the wise, that I could share with everyone..."Treat the Aspie more gently".
One topic I keep reading, is probably the toughest to decide upon.....do I tell my employer? This one is so individual as each employee and employer are different in understanding. I really don't know. I haven't been employed or employable for years. I could probably only get a job if my employer knew about my autism and was a disability-friendly workplace. I wish I could be of more help on this issue.
I just wanted to share my knowledge on this subject. I hope it helps:)
First off, I usually mention that I have "Aspergers which is a mild form of autism." I'm never sure who is familiar with "Aspergers", but I believe most people can understand "mild autism".
My Partner was the first person to be informed about my Aspergers. Actually, she and I found out together so it was easy. If she hadn't known, she would have been the first person I talked about it with. She's my partner of 18 years and my best friend:)
After my Partner, I mentioned it to my family physician. My Nurse Practitioner has a mental health background and is very Smart. She has helped me find the right medications to manage my high anxiety (a hallmark and bane of Aspies) and my chronic insomnia.
Next, I told family members. I had a lot of explaining to do there, but I think it helped them understand why I've behaved in different, unpredictable, anti-social ways. I'm glad I could clear up their misconceptions about me. I'm not difficult, rude, inconsiderate Or self-centered...just an autistic with oversensitivities normal for my species:)
My older son also has Aspergers, so I needn't have explained much to him. He and I share the majority of Aspie traits. My LittleGuy, who is almost ten, I waited until he was about five or so, and let him know why mommy is different and stays home a lot. As he has grown and matured, I've been able to share what makes me different and what is very challenging for me due to my Aspergers. He asks questions, now and then, and I answer truthfully and based on his comprehension.
It seems like...some people might harbor shame or uncertainty about being autistic. It's just who we are. I feel no need to hide it. It no longer makes me feel vulnerable when I mention it to others. On the contrary, I keep finding more people that want to help and understand me.
Back to the original question.....It's important that close friends know I'm autistic. I have very few, but I talk to them about it. My neighbors, whom I frequently run to when I'm in distress or get horribly scared and confused, are also on my "need-to-know" list. This helps out especially when I am overwhelmed in tears and distress. I don't have to work so hard to make words and force msef to talk. I have great neighbors...now that I think about it.
Another group of people I feel should know, are my LittleGuys school teachers. I deal with these people on a daily basis and I know I am different. I often need to ask questions more than once; I need help understanding forms and assignments NTs usually comprehend. I oft get emotional, (yup, I'm a bust out in tears when I get stressed person) when discussing tough issues and they tend to be pretty darn understanding and try and help me. So teachers are important to inform.
My dentist is another person that comes to mind. Although I have the greatest, most compassionate dentist and techs, I'd like to think they treat me just a little more gently than most. Hmmm, if that is one word of the wise, that I could share with everyone..."Treat the Aspie more gently".
One topic I keep reading, is probably the toughest to decide upon.....do I tell my employer? This one is so individual as each employee and employer are different in understanding. I really don't know. I haven't been employed or employable for years. I could probably only get a job if my employer knew about my autism and was a disability-friendly workplace. I wish I could be of more help on this issue.
I just wanted to share my knowledge on this subject. I hope it helps:)
Monday, September 2, 2013
Grand Rapids Press...Aspergers Group
A
By
on August 30, 2013 at 12:59 PM, updated August 30, 2013 at 3:30 PM
Tom Rademacher: Haven for young people with Asperger's reminds us quirks are good
By on August 30, 2013 at 12:59 PM, updated August 30, 2013 at 3:30 PM
We all need a haven.
Some of us seek it in books. Others try exercise, bird-watching, Sudoku, ceramics.
And then there’s “Puzzle Partners.”
I’m not referring to jigsaws, but rather a program where teens and young adults with mild social impairments can gather and not be judged too keenly for the simple fact they have Asperger’s Syndrome or high-functioning autism.
Part of me deplores the fact they need a special place to meet at all.
But then I remind myself that while we may all be equal in God’s eyes, we humans have a long way to go before we embrace people who have special needs with the same sort of hugs we give to those who are ostensibly normal.
Says Puzzle Partners member Mike Allen, a graduate of Kenowa Hills High School who enjoys computers, electricity and YouTube: “This is pretty cool. To be with people who have some quirks like I do.”
Mike is one of more than a dozen young adults from Kent and surrounding counties who show up regularly at “The Vault,” a youth center where the group convenes that’s owned by LaGrave Avenue Christian Reformed Church, and located on Sheldon Blvd. SE.
Puzzle Partners is a service of Hope Network that exists to provide opportunities for social growth and expression to those in need.
“I’m one of those people who likes making friends,” says Doug Halbeison, 25, who enjoys theater, works two jobs and is making his way through college.
Hannah Jo VanKoevering, 22, expresses it this way: “Friendship and acceptance … and the ability to let loose.”
And that they do, through animated conversation, and by taking part in everything The Vault has to offer – a kitchen, sitting areas, and entertainment that includes television, billiards, Foosball, air hockey and more.
Something amazing occurs when you step into the room and spend time with members of Puzzle Partners. You quickly begin to notice not what makes them different, but beautifully human.
Hannah has her own line of jewelry, entitled “Hannahtudes.” Tyler Riley works in retail, loves concerts, tattoos and piercings.
Ethan Robert Patterson volunteers at Guiding Light Mission, Habitat for Humanity and Noorthoek Academy, a school within Grand Rapids Community College designed for students with special needs.
Rebecca Flanagan, 21, is working on her GED, loves animals (especially horses), and calls herself “an aspiring writer.”
Sarah Frisch, 24, is a graduate of Calvin College, and not at all embarrassed to share that “The first time I knew I was different was during preschool, because all the other girls were playing with dolls, and I liked driving cars through pudding.”
If you see a little bit of yourself – or of others you know – in the above, then good. Your hug factor is growing.
“Puzzle Partners allows kids to take skills and go from being by themselves to being with others, and encouraging others,” says Mohan Krishnan, M.D., director of children’s services for Hope Network.
“Then, hopefully, that transfers to making friends and partnerships outside of Puzzle Partners, and that can lead to jobs, relationships, more opportunities.”
One of the biggest hurdles for those with Asperger’s is landing meaningful work. The problem often lies in a young adult’s inability to score well during job interviews. They may have the cognitive and physical abilities to perform, but fall short in social expression.
Puzzle Partners is designed to overcome that hurdle, one evening at a time, and usually under the watchful eye and generous heart of group facilitator Ann Mary Dykstra, a teacher “for a bajillion years” who “always had a heart for the kids who didn’t fit in well.”
Dykstra encourages each kid to use their voice, express their desires, showcase their gifts.
“People hear the word ‘autism’ and just assume certain behaviors,” she says.
“I was asked once, ‘Could you tell me what a teenage girl with autism is like?’”
Dykstra laughs. “Could you tell me what any teenage girl is like?”
For Dykstra, “I just enjoy each of these young adults personally, and when I’m with them, what I feel is that we don’t need to have them change to conform to society. I wish society could understand their gifts and challenges.
“Our goal is to help each person realize they’re so special beyond autism or Asperger’s.”
Dykstra’s dream is for Puzzle Partners to one day have a place of its own, so they’re not limited to two Thursday evenings a month. But that would take resources for which she and others are still searching.
In the meantime, they meet and celebrate their exquisite who-ness.
“We’re not lesser,” says Hannah Jo, “just different.
“You know. Like bird-watchers.”
Editor’s Note: For more information about Puzzle Partners, visitpuzzlepartners@hopenetwork.org
E-mail Tom Rademacher at: rademachertom@gmail.com
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Monday, August 19, 2013
Monday, August 12, 2013
Pariah Solitary Living the Autistic Life
A
\pə-ˈrī-ə\
noun
Examples
Origin: Tamil paṟaiyan, literally, drummer.
First use: 1613
Sometimes. I wish...others knew...the solitary existence of the autistic life. The sense that one is different, indifferent, trapped behind an invisible barrier.
Pariah, avoid, go around, don't approach
Living in the bubble, small, safe, confining, self-actualization bounces off the walls, unable to leave...to venture...to partake.
The strange world...always out there...somewhere, beyond reach and comprehension.
Within, working to understand the flecks of feelings, emotions, oft only realized once they grow and loom large, overpowering.
Predators lurk, outside. Appearing as innocent as bystanders.
The separation, the barrier...never leaves....just lowers for short spells.
Pain isn't "valid" unless it can be put into words and understood by self or others....therefore we feel naught.
Confusion. Yet another tangled web, and another, and another.
Streamers, like flypaper, catch, hold
Walls ebb in, flow out, constant movement but forever there
There is no room, in here, for anyone but me....no other fool dare get so close.
Walking, numbing, the treadmill of my mind.
The only thing real is touch....sometimes even that hurts
The sensors forever searching, feelers, antennae, small hairs, reach, analyze and let go. What is it I forever seek?
Slow down, turn off, isolate, drift away. The boat has no oars, and I care not.
The running in circles Stops. The reaching out for drifting anchors Stops. The praying for rain Stops. I've learned that adrift is best.....the path of least resistance....smallest pains
I drift
I stay afloat
To escape the bubble, the glances, judgements, confines of normality, the senselessness of it all......I am
adj.
1. Existing, living, or going without others; alone: a solitary traveler. See Synonyms at alone.
2. Happening, done, or made alone: a solitary evening; solitary pursuits such as reading and sewing.
3. Remote from civilization; secluded: a solitary retreat.
4. Having no companions; lonesome or lonely.
5. Zoology Living alone or in pairs only: solitary wasps; solitary sparrows.
6. Single and set apart from others: a solitary instance of cowardice.
n. pl. sol·i·tar·ies
1. A person who lives alone; a recluse.
2. Solitary confinement.
\pə-ˈrī-ə\
noun
Examples
- I felt like a pariah when I wore the wrong outfit to the dinner party
Origin: Tamil paṟaiyan, literally, drummer.
First use: 1613
Sometimes. I wish...others knew...the solitary existence of the autistic life. The sense that one is different, indifferent, trapped behind an invisible barrier.
Pariah, avoid, go around, don't approach
Living in the bubble, small, safe, confining, self-actualization bounces off the walls, unable to leave...to venture...to partake.
The strange world...always out there...somewhere, beyond reach and comprehension.
Within, working to understand the flecks of feelings, emotions, oft only realized once they grow and loom large, overpowering.
Predators lurk, outside. Appearing as innocent as bystanders.
The separation, the barrier...never leaves....just lowers for short spells.
Pain isn't "valid" unless it can be put into words and understood by self or others....therefore we feel naught.
Confusion. Yet another tangled web, and another, and another.
Streamers, like flypaper, catch, hold
Walls ebb in, flow out, constant movement but forever there
There is no room, in here, for anyone but me....no other fool dare get so close.
Walking, numbing, the treadmill of my mind.
The only thing real is touch....sometimes even that hurts
The sensors forever searching, feelers, antennae, small hairs, reach, analyze and let go. What is it I forever seek?
Slow down, turn off, isolate, drift away. The boat has no oars, and I care not.
The running in circles Stops. The reaching out for drifting anchors Stops. The praying for rain Stops. I've learned that adrift is best.....the path of least resistance....smallest pains
I drift
I stay afloat
To escape the bubble, the glances, judgements, confines of normality, the senselessness of it all......I am
adj.
1. Existing, living, or going without others; alone: a solitary traveler. See Synonyms at alone.
2. Happening, done, or made alone: a solitary evening; solitary pursuits such as reading and sewing.
3. Remote from civilization; secluded: a solitary retreat.
4. Having no companions; lonesome or lonely.
5. Zoology Living alone or in pairs only: solitary wasps; solitary sparrows.
6. Single and set apart from others: a solitary instance of cowardice.
n. pl. sol·i·tar·ies
1. A person who lives alone; a recluse.
2. Solitary confinement.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Female Aspergers Syndrome Traits 2 Section B
The second section of the video is Section B: Innocent
Right from the start, I want to say that I feel vulnerable writing and sharing this info. Whilst a lot of it Is definitely true, I feel a bit overexposed. Thus, to alleviate my anxiety, I will only comment with personal info on the items I feel comfortable.
1) Naive
Argh...it is tough to admit and I've gotten less so, as I've matured. To me, naive is dangerous because people take advantage of the naive. It's great to have a child-like innocence, just don't hang with predators.
2) Honest
Very True. And might I add, honest to a fault and also to ones owns detriment at times? Honesty Is one of the Many very Positive Traits of being Aspie!!!!
3) Experiences trouble lying
My Eldest Aspie son didn't learn to lie until he was ten. My NT LittleGuy figured out lying at four. And the LittleGuy is very good at it.
4) Finds it difficult to understand manipulation and disloyalty
5) Finds it difficult to understand vindictive behavior and retaliation
6) Easily fooled and conned
....leading to constant fear of embarrassment, unfortunately. I think this contributes to my complete dislike....nah, hatred, of April Fools day and any and all pranks.
7) Feelings of confusion and being overwhelmed
Sigh, I think I have always lived in a fog of confusion.
8) Feelings of being misplaced and/ or from another planet
Hence, the name of my blog. I frequently feel like an alien, stranger in a strange land, visitor from another planet...that I'm a different species...that the Mothership dropped me here, by accident and may never return.
9) Feelings of isolation
Frequently. An island in the middle of a vast ocean.
10) Abused or taken advantage of as a child but didn't think to tell anyone
True
More later:)
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