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, April 9, 2017

Just Sad, Living with the memories

I don't know. Just couldn't motive today. Zero energy and ambition. I wonder if I'm continuing to process that big bad memory from 10 days ago. A memory that I can never fully share because of its hideous and grotesque nature. The memory Is mine now, not hidden away in some garbage filled back alley protected by a dozen fences of various strengths and materials.
It's not garbage...it's just one in a long series of traumatic memories that I have to figure out how to cohabitate with until the day I die.
It's...difficult to image how a body/mind/spirit can live so overridden with wounds both seen and unseen, known and unknown.
The memory of the rabbit Snowball will always be with me, to some degree. I hear the grief will somehow, slowly abate...but part of me will always know..and remember..and be sad. And this is Just one of my horrendous incidents...how will I deal with and survive even one more...or a dozen?
It seems overwhelming, unfathomable.
How can I process out and find some relief? Is there any relief?
It's like I'm living with a stranger that has always been in my house but previously unknown. I don't know what to do with it.
It feels like I'm juggling three balls, yes it happened, yes I was there and it truly was real. And I'm just tossing these balls around, not holding onto any one for more than a few seconds cause I Don't Want To but I can't throw the balls away. Can't smash them against the wall because the wall has melted away.
Ownership...maybe this is all that I was given. A bag full of grenades whereby each one needs to blow up in my face in order to see who I really am and what events have turned me into this shape...and remind me that I ferl, don't feel and react certain ways because of these...horrid things.
Is that all I am is a series of hidden horrible incidents? That I can't or can barely look at, much less show to others.
Always partially hidden behind the curtain...never able to say all that I am.
I do feel great grief for Snowball. Inside, it's like he's lying in state and people are filing by, becoming aware...the spreading grief, bubble burst and water everywhere.
If an incident like that...took place...was readily and easily perpetrated...I'm scared for what else happened, you know?
The Snowball death was the first full, complete trauma memory fully processed out and I don't know how to carry on with the day or how to live with this knowledge. I'm lost. And I feel very much alone.
Grief and sadness

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