A Bitch Post, April really sucks

I can't recall a month in which so very many things have gone terribly awry. My only positive thought is that April end next week.
May may be better.
It started off with me making two egregious and self-deprecating errors with funds that put me in the negative and brought a dark cloud to all things financial. Two supremely stupid mistakes that could have easily been avoided. I mean, if I had made just one mistake I still would have been short but fine. To make two was simply unheard of and crippling.
Then the car needed repairs. My usually stellar car garage royalty messed up. It took a lot of courage on my part to confront the garage and help them see the error of their ways. Hence, another 4 days with the car in the shop but It Is Repaired and I picked her up today. To say that I am ecstatic about having her back and running like a dream is an understatement.
I messed up an appointment with a therapist which caused me to go postal for a few days. I get Autistically and Multiply irate and it's like this massive emotional blackhole that I fall into. It would be too much to try and explain myself. Hell, I can barely figure out what happened because I hit autistic meltdown And I switched into a most unpleasant, foul mouthed alter personality. So, I'm not sure where I stand or how to handle that situation.
The post office damaged severely not one but two packages I sent. I think I've only had one package damaged in two years so this was another unforeseen setback.
I struggle with my own therapist this week as, you know I can't even put that into words except to say that therapy was an epic fail.
I haven't heard from my best friend in days.
My boyfriend canceled an impending date because he was called out of town.
My neighbor died suddenly yesterday. He was six months younger than me and I had just spoken to him a few days ago.
My dog got sick so I took her to the vet. Sure, she coughed up blood all over me but the vet said she looks fine, 100$ later.
Some days, some weeks and an errant month, nothing goes right. It's raining garbage and my umbrella broke.
I plan on spending as much time as possible in bed because I have had enough of this shitstorm. Seriously. It can stop, like, right now.
Too much weird, painful, unexpected shit.
It's risky to get out of bed or answer the phone.
I am putting my self temporarily out of service.
I am so done with April. So upset, befuddled and disappointed. Currently, it is a suckfest being thrown in my honor.
I'm not attending this party anymore.

Life in AspieLand

So I've developed a new obsession with driving to my local Dutch Bros coffee house and grabbing an Americano each day.

I've learned to expect and respond to the three standard questions each Oregonian Must answer at every checkout, cashier or reception area:

1) How's your day going? A mumbled Fine, Good or Great seems to be the appropriate response that will not invite an unexpected follow-up.

2) What are you up to or doing today? This requires a little thought, so I've come up with a standard "running errands".

3) What are your plans for the afternoon, evening or weekend? Sigh. This is the toughest one. Usually I answer "grabbing dinner and kicking back" or if it's that open, nonspecific "weekend" question, I answer "nothing special" or "taking it easy".

Yikes! The Pacific Northwest is freakishly friendly compared to the stoic and sober Midweste Michigan.

This is just how they roll here, with small talk and congenial banter. I've learned not to put any weight into these exchanges. It's like, instead of a handshake as a standard nonsensical greeting, they chat. And there are no wrong answers just responses that don't beg more questions. Keep it standard, short and simple. It really doesn't mean anything.

Anyway, today as I placed my order, the Dutch Bro guy says, "Hey, what's you're name? I see you here all the time. My name's Guido."

Me, in my head, um, like No, too much info. You have just invaded my privacy and I really Don't want to answer that but I can't come up with a pseudonym fast enough.

Bleh, so I felt forced into telling him my name, secretly plotting to never get my coffee at This location again and trying to figure out how many more miles I would have to drive to a subsequent location.

Or, I could simple do a drive by, see if Guido is working and decide whether it would be safe to get my brew, in my preferred nameless fasion.

Dang. And I'd been driving there for a couple mo tha until this Mr. Friendly ruined it for me. I just don't like to call attention to myself or for strangers, even delicious coffee carrying strangers, to know such intimate details as my first name.

Well, tomorrow when the lack of caffeine propels me out the door, I'll have to decide whether to drive 1 mile or 4. Thanks so much Guido, Not.

I do love my Dutch Brothers Coffee, though. One reason I started drinking it is that on the first of every month they give away free stickers. I mean, I'm too ancient to have had teachers giving away stickers in school. And my kids always got stickers for going to the doctor. My kids made me jealous for free stickers all my own. So, I go Dutch. 

I'm bummed because a fun everyday thing just got more complicated, or rather uneasy and a little invasive. I'd rather have just been known as Hot Medium Americano, you know?

The Complexity of Simple Things

I'm hard pressed to find anything in my Autistic life to be classified as simple or easy.
I attended my son's high school choir concert last week, and it served to remind me why leaving the house was a delicate, well-thought out dance of problem solving, one after another.
The first issue was dress. What to wear in terms of social norm and comfort. I drew on my two previous concert experiences enough to know to dress casual and cool. The performance is in an auditorium and it leaned towards being too warm last time.
Next came parking at the school. Last time, there was a congested row of cars waiting to leave, so I settled on a spot far from the door and nearest the street.
Seating. This proved to be most problematic as I remember that sitting in the first half of seats seemed to intensify the sound to the point that my ears hurt, so I settled on sitting in the first row of the back half of seats.
I got all comfy, spread my coat in the seat next to me to prevent anyone getting right next to me. I looked over the program and saw that my son's group was third in line to sing, out of the seven different groups. No problem.
Then a small group of people decided to sit directly behind me. It is almost as if I could feel their knees practically bumping my head. They emanated strange, powerful smells like coconuts mixed with flowers and aftershave. It quickly became evident that they liked talking to one another, and not in soft whispers.
This was not going to work for me. I waited the prescribed few minutes, so they wouldn't think I moved my seat on their account, gathered my things and headed for the nearest restroom. Bathrooms are great places to escape to and think. I had to figure out where next to try sitting.
I opted for the back again but this time I picked a handicapped chair near the exit. This way it would be stealthier and quicker for me to leave or move again if needed.
I settled in.
The first couple of groups didn't hurt my ears as they sang. The clapping was abrasive but shirt lived enough not to severely bother. A few of their songs were sung in foreign languages and I quickly became irritated and aggitated.
Why??? Why would they sing songs with lyrics I could not understand? I had no idea what they were singing about so their voices just become nonsensical droning that made no sense. My Aspie logic was lost of this. I became irritated at feeling so confused. I hated it. I really did.
Thankfully, my kid's group appeared and sang all their songs in English. I felt like such a proud Momma as I could readily pick out my son's beautiful, bass voice from the mix. It was awesome seeing him on stage. Once his group left and the next one came on stage, I left the building.
I had figured out that I was required and pleased to hear my son sing, but I was under no obligation to continue to feel uncomfortable listening to any more drivel. Plus, I would avoid the formal choir group whose voices so bothered us last time.
I went for a walk.
Because I was in an unfamiliar area and prone to getting lost, I picked one street and walked straight down and straight back. No turning corners or crossing streets. I checked my time before I left and gauged how far I could reasonably walk so that I would return guesstimationally before the whole concert ended.
Ah, I planned it so well. As I reentered the building, the auditorium doors just swung open and throngs of people filled out. I'm grateful my kid is over 5'8" because I could readily locate him.
Mission accomplished!!
I did it! I was so proud of him and so proud of myself for navigating through the complexity of going to a relatively simple event. I unwound with a drink and some mindless television. I was quite exhausted.
Nothing is ever easy. But most things are doable.

Me, hiding out in the restroom.

All I have is this moment...

And what I feel right now. What if I learned how to put words to what is happening in the now...would it help me to put words to the past?
I'm not used to Now because it's a place I became habituated to run from.
But now, what are the images,the feels?
The image I see is of therapist as I am present and engaged in the banter of the ordinary and sublime. I'm wearing the face and body of everyday, not of "the Multiple" or "the Autistic" but the way I wear myself when I'm pretending to be normal and not those two traits that I define myself as most of the time.
I wasn't pretending but I felt weird, like a bird landing on a live wire insure of whether I'd get fried or live.
Sheepishly, I admit to studying this strange human before me as the majority of the time my gaze is on the floor, or the ceiling or turned inward.
I feel...swollen with life much like the nearby stream that has dramatically doubled in size overnight. It rushes past and I like that sound, the sound of chaos contained; the sound of rapid flux and change. Watching the creek, each second it is anew, everywhere, each drop of surface, changing, transforming, twisting and unpredictable without any fear or certainty of what it will be in the next second. Fearless.
I'm fascinated by movement, moving water, flying planes, birds cascading. Movement catches my eye and engages me in this mystical foreign place of now.
I feel anxiety free if I can stay in a moment. If...
I feel powerful in that I can shut off the part of brain that says and hears words. When I do that, all the rampant thoughts stop because thoughts are made of words. Is that normal? Can others do that?
I flip the switch by focusing on listening. I hear my footsteps. I listen for each drop of rain as it hits the puddle. The ripple sound, like wind chimes of bamboo. I count the number of birds I hear singing, laughing and praying to find a mate. I just listen so hard that I can make the words stop and it makes me feel peace and power and alive.
It rains here. Lots and lots of rain here. And I love the sound of raindrops dying and transforming, conglomeration and being absorbed. Each drop is unique and makes a signature sound as it hits. Is it willing? What bravery or stupidity or blind trust it must carry as it falls knowing it will be injured, may, transformed into something different. Does it hurt, the raindrop, as it hits the grass, the puddle, the tree, the bird? Does it feel, pain? Gladness? Or nothing at all?
There are a million mysteries that no one notices. Just listen...just listen.
I am not who I was yesterday or an hour ago. I change with each breath. Nothing is ever the same from moment to moment. I know that. Every now and then. I know that.
Dynamic.

A Dream Analyzed

I had a dream twas the other night and I thought I'd dissect it to figure out where I am in my life.
An unseemly man and I rent a boat. I'm comfortable with this guy so, though he remains unseen, I can readily surmise it is my boyfriend that I am currently cosmitten with.
We rent a boat to go out fishing. The boat is sturdy and seaworthy.
The atmosphere feels and looks like the Caribbean although I've never been there. These are brand new waters for me, which means I'm in uncharted waters, which is so true that I've never been in a healthy relationship before.
The water is calm, crystal clear, light bluish green, so clear I can readily see through the shallow few feet of water. No turbulence or choppy seas; smooth sailing, an easy ride.
It is a beautiful sunny, blue sky day. All is well.
I'm trying to figure out how to get to where the fishing is, to where the other boats are but I don't know how. Then, I notice there is a fish finder radar in the boat and on the screen I can see where the other boats are. Analysis, I'm not sure how to proceed but I find assistance on board. The other boats represent other people, and or couples, just others.
My male companion guides our boat in their direction but we stop quite short of being in the pack of boaters. I ask if we should drop anchor. He says it's okay to drift.
Analysis, we are near enough to see others but we still like our own space and a little distance from others. We don't want to "join the pack" but having them in sight is nice. I want to anchor, put down firm footing lest we inadvertently get to close to others but my male companion is comfortable and confident enough to know that we will be just fine. My BF is a calm and confident kinda guy.
Once settled, I reach for the fishing poles. There are two identical poles somewhat entangled. My companion and I easily untangle them together.
I notice the identical hooks, each baited with about seven, small, light blue beads that are set just behind the sharp hook. My BF and I are of the same ilk, both Aspies. The blue beads signify throat chakra, communication. He and I communicate in the same autistic way.
While he is still fiddling with his pole, I set mine into the water. Immediately, my line starts slowly moving away. There is something on my line but it isn't behaving as if I've caught a fish. It actually took me a few seconds to realize that there was indeed, something on my hook.
I'm on to something. There is movement of the line but it Is different.
I shout, "Hey, I've already got something!!!" All excited and surprised.
I feel in and am thrilled to find that I have caught...something unexpected and unusual in appearance. In my mind I call it a "turtlefish" because it has the head of a turtle but a squarish body with fine.
Analysis, BF and I are together in calm waters, communicating and trying to get something. I catch something. I easily get a catch but it is different than I expected. Still sought after. Still a prize, just in a form different than I thought it would be.
Then I awoke.
What a change from the usual dreams of storms, tornadoes, ice and hurricanes.
It really does feel like the waters are calm and easily seen through. I enjoy having someone kind in the boat with me.
Life is Good