I feel like an Alien, Living Autstic, Aspergers Syndrome & Me

 Aspergers & the Alien is the perfect name for my blog because having Aspergers, I feel like an alien, like I don't belong and that I'm a perennial outsider never able to get inside. I'm odd and I know it, but can't accurately describe it.

  I feel as if I'm stranded on a strange planet whereby everyone is speaking a foreign language and my universal translator is broke. There are a plethora of social norms that I fail to comprehend. Words are highly confusing and subjective. Each being is like trying to decipher a code. Simple words and phrases, subtle and overt glances each mean something different to each and every individual. I feel perpetual confusion.

 I'm afraid to ask for clarity on questions, paperwork and in verbal interactions because I fear looking stupid, subpar and moronic. If I open my mouth, I risk ridicule. So I keep myself in silent consternation.

I'm not anti-social, per se, I just avoid drama, stress and sensory overload. I prefer to be alone because it is the least painful option. If I'm in the same room with anyone, my stress and discomfort level rises, multiplying with each additional person in the room. Living alone is my best option.

  I feel like a weirdo. I need to eat the same, exact foods everyday and my wardrobe is quite specific with button collared shirts and jeans. I pick my clothes for the day based on mood, weather and environment, if I have any plans or appointments for the day. I try never to schedule more than one appointment on any given day. Leaving the house, any social interaction wears me out and makes my head hurt.

 I am acutely aware that I am different. Sometimes I love it, other times I hate it. I am brutally honest in a world where half truths and bold face lying is rather normal. I have no interest in gossip, talking about or judging others. It isn't my business. I have zero thoughts on a persons appearance, what they are wearing, or how they choose to live their lives.

 I don't understand relationships. I'm not sure if I've ever genuinely felt love but my understanding of hate and anger increases everyday. Feelings, emotions are these dense foggy clouds that are difficult to grasp and name. I feel a multitude of sensations yet have no words to express them. Eternal frustration would be an accurate catchphrase for me. Lost within myself and my own abstract thoughts and waves.

   Social obligations are terrifying and highly unpredictable, to be avoided like the plague. The amount of distress, panic and confusion is immense. I feel misunderstood, as if the only people that can truly understand are other autistics around the same degree on the spectrum a I. 

 Each day is a challenge to navigate. Figuring out what needs to be done and how. Time management is not my strong suit. In a way, I have no grasp of time and how long it takes to do this thing or that. I set alarms throughout the house to remind me of scheduled events and must do's. I have two choices, stay silent and confused or speak up, ask questions, seek clarity and risk looking like a fool. It's painful to yearn vehemently for independence whilst understanding that the simplest things can stymie me. 

 I'm trapped in a bell jar observing a world that I will never fit into or understand. Everyone is kept safely at arms length. Being a reticent recluse is natural for me. Speaking is unnatural, a forced effort that produces distress, exhaustion and produces mixed results. I'd prefer a quiet, silent world where people moved slowly, wore name tags and job descriptions and minded their own business.

 Friendships, like relationships are...funny, challenging, near impossible to succeed or sustain. I've grown to accept the comfort of aloneness. Ships are too risky, too much work, always end up sinking sooner or later.

 I am highly sensitive. I can walk in a room and feel tension, others pain or happiness. I avoid eye contact as I feel I'm intruding on the persons personal space. I see too much private info written on their face, in their eyes, standing beside them. Things I have no business knowing.

 I don't have any interest in television, celebrities, movies or whatever the latest fad is. I have no interest following the crowd, being politically correct or repeating the same mottos day after day. To me, the world is a trivial, superficial place whereby most adults are shallow and emotionally stunted.

 I am extremely polite and can rarely say a persons name without a prefix of Miss, Mister or Sir. I prefer to dress in gender neutral clothing and carry an overall ambiguous style. 

  I don't feel like I fit in anywhere. I've grown accustom to the inherent lostness, confusion, frustration and aloneness...it's all part of this game.

Limb Differences and Staring

As my regular readers know, my youngest son was born minus a left hand, acheiria in medical terms.Part of our daily life is dealing with the occasional stares. At seven years of age, we have been through this for awhile and to a great extent, it is pretty mundane and routine. Its healthy for kids to inquire and ask and we actually welcome it. There questions are nothng but honest and curious..its a good thing.
Kids and adults frequently have that "curiosity" stare or the gazing at the unknown, unusual and different and I get that. It is human nature to look at that which perplexes and is out of sync with our norms. I fully understand and don't think twice about that.
Then there are the problem people...those adults that for some reason or another are not satisfied with a passing glance. Those who are either rude, misguided or just plain moronic who think that it is perfectly acceptable to stare at my boy, unrelentingly.
I have used the strategy of simply giving them one, good stare back and that usually gets my point across. Every now and then...and today was one of Those days, I get someone who completely ignores my stare back not once, not twice and not even, Not Even Three times...these people I will disrespectfully term "moronically rude people" or MRP for short. I tried finding words so the acronym would be ASS, but it wouldn't work.
So these MRP's, I try and give the benefit of a doubt. Maybe they know someone who also has a limb difference. Maybe they are engineers or innovators who are trying to figure out how he uses his palm to achieve certain things, maybe they have a mental disorder, stuff like that.
The stare back usually works so I was quite frustrated and at a loss when it did not. Note to self-work on "angry eyes" and eyes that say "you are being very rude". Plus, the situation, at a chapel for a friends funeral, called for some respectful protocol. The location stymied me even more in that it was irreverent and it limited my ability to diffuse it.
I was not free to walk up to her and say "Hi, can I help you?" which can also disarm and bring ones awareness to their own actions.
Anyway, on to the part that got me railed and rankled and it simply burns my butt...at the end of the service, just before everyone was to get up and leave...she turns to her husband sitting next to her and she had a number of words with him. Judging by his sudden and consistent looking in our direction, it was painfully clear that this wench was telling her husband all about it so he could get a looksie before we left.
Now, her husband, fully understood my stare back and kept averting his eyes...see that was acceptable and the usual response. And it really pisses me off when someone is so amused that they feel they must share the ...be...nice...unusual sight. Really, is it that fucking important that you must share that which you so stared at with someone else and call their attention to it.
So, yeah, this set me off. I mean, she was sitting like, 5 feet away from him in direct view...She wasn't even trying to be covert. And little guy was feverishly playing a little video game and I was concerned that if he looked up and saw this..it would hurt his feelings. Really? Can people really be that rude at times? At a chapel? At a funeral? In plain view? Man, wisdom does Not automatically come with age.
For my part, I did all that I could, but I obviously need some more strategies. Seriously, I will practice making angry eyes and try and get a bit more emotion to my stareback cause it failed to work this time.
And after wars, as everyone left....should I have said something? Had it not been a funeral, I may have seriously contemplated it, but for the sanctity of the event and for the respect for my friends family, it was not an option...but I am entitled to spout and sputter about a stupid ass, moronic, extremely rude being who so callously and selfishly infringed upon my right to be out in public and accosted.
The vast majority of people are considerate but every now and then one idiot has to show...such is life. No biggie...lesson learned..new strategies in the works...tomorrow is another day

Emotions, Jealousy, Acceptance..Remnants of the Day

Its been an odd day...one of those very rare occasions where I am glad that I had a fever and the little guy was home sick, as well. I didn't have to deal. Some days..it is better to opt out.
Interesting how I can see illness in a somewhat positive light...having value and worth. It allowed me to stay away, hide and continue to find some semblance of emotional stability...because, honey, right now,I ain't got that.
Off and on, throughout the day, for no overt or conscious reason, I found myself leaking, seeping, tearing up, call it what you will. That in and of itself is a rather unusual symptom for me. I am attributing it to overflow from yesterdays drama...remnants of the strong, unexpected and turbid feelings that suddenly and with great fanfare poured forth at court.
It was a good day to sit in a darkened room, shades drawn and play video games with the little man. Definitely not a day to be out in the mainstream and exposed to an unexpected and somewhat chaotic outer world.
I think that I used to be quite jealous of the neuro-typicals and how they always seemed so composed, put together and in charge of their emotions. They, those Nt's, appear so peaceful, orderly and downright happy. Yeah, growing up, I spent a ton of time being insanely jealous but I've outgrown that. I actually enjoy observing these other worlds (as if each person lived in their own little world as I do) and checking out how they mange and navigate, hoping to learn something, maybe. whatever. I like my own little world, because quite frankly, its all I've got. Why waste my breath praying for something that is beyond my reach? Why not just accept that this is where it is at and go from there?
Hating, resenting, and being embarrassed because of what one is..is a huge waste of energy and time. This is who I am and its good enough for me.
So, no, I don't dream of suddenly becoming NT and moving into that domain. Who knows, maybe some are jealous of my fabulous ability to escape reality at the drop of a hat? hahahahahah...just had to get that one off my chest. It could happen.

Emotions and the aspie...oh my...think powder kegs of varying sizes and sticks of dynamite strewn haphazardly throughout a very large room. It pretty much sums it up. For some reason, well, for a couple good reasons..and they know who they are...I'm no longer embarrassed or ashamed of my emotional displays. I control and keep in check what I can and when I can't..well, I can't. It is a challenge to be sure. Emotions don't make me appear weak or subhuman..they just make me..well, me. I've grown weary of making excuses for my actions...I'm done wearing shame or hiding because I am reacting differently. Damn, can't I just be who I am and leave it at that?
Acceptance comes in two forms...Self-acceptance and, for lack of a better term, worldly acceptance, and one needs..really needs to have a firm grasp of both. I feel, overall, that anyone with Aspergers is going to have quite a challenge managing the first and definitely the latter, but it is doable.

In my humble opinion, Aspies need to know how to escape as it is a form of self-preservation. It's not a negative thing by any means, just a coping skill. The Aspie mind is a hideously wondrous place.

I don't know..I've had this very long string of illnesses for a couple months now. I'd like to find a positive to it. Maybe its just so I can recoup and recover. I do want to get..stable enough to get back out there and it will happen. I just need some down time right now. Its entirely possible that seven very emotional months can reek havoc on an immune system...ya think? And I don't know when it will ever abate..calm down and return to anything resembling my normal.
Everyone has ups and downs and various challenges. Its just when mine meander into the emotional realm, well, it seems to take a bit to fully recover. So be it.

Acknowledging Fear...The Great Pretender Speaks

Speaking of truth...its chilly out, around 37 degrees. The snow speaks more truth than the sunshine.

Its quite odd to write about what I am afraid of. I have played the part of Great Pretender for ages now. People like it when you pretend to be normal...they pray that you are normal and they reward you for playing the part when it is done well.
Lies, All Lies
Lying...hmm, that seemed to be what thrilled others the most. My parents loved it when I pretended to be normal, when I kept the majority of who I am under cloaks and daggers, under rugs and behind the furniture.
There are rewards and bribes for denying your true self and for putting on a good show.
Pretending to like going places and being at family functions. Playing that the noise doesn't bother you or the sights, smells and foul stench that is in the air. Making nice and sitting still and not moving or wavering from the task at hand. Pretending to pay attention to the most boring, sometimes upsetting and unpleasant teachers and peoples.
Hanging out with unsavorys, the juvey d's and pretending to be like them just to have a crowd, a posse, a like me please I am one of you kindof deals.
Pretending that you have no strong sense of self or of what you want or what you feel because that is so very harsh against the grain and unheard of. No rumblings, no veering from normal planes,lest you fall off the bandwagon, from great heights and become crushed upon the ground.
Pretending is like putting on layer upon layer of sticky, musty, old clothes and wearing them so long that they become affixed to your skin and the very effort in removing them leaves ones skin raw and oozing. It has been going on for far too long says the cat to the mouse.
Under all the layers, somewhere,way down deep, is you...is me...and that which I am without expectations, parents failed hopes and shattered dreams.
To see or not to see...the aspie underneath.
Mostly I had to pretend to Not be afraid. I'd just shove that fear farther and deeper inside. As long as i didn't say anything, as long as my expression remained blank and impassive, no one would know, no one would question, no one would reprimand and punish...for good behavior, in surface value alone was what they wanted. It did not matter who I was or how I felt.
Fear was nothing more than a dark, dirty, shameful thing that got you in trouble and beaten with big sticks.
So, thus, I pretended to be calm....I pretended to be interested...I pretended to listen...I pretended to be fearless...and in the process promptly lost my sense and any sense of who I really was.
Now, now, no one rules me. No one punishes me. No one asks and expects me to do anything when it makes me uncomfortable and scared, unless, of course, I agree. And there have actually been many times where i have had to face being scared, but it simply needed doing. My role as a parent is one of....immense challenges at times, but sometimes there are things that I am compelled to do for the love and sake of another.
Acknowledging fear doesn't make me less of a person....I am not prey or fodder for villains. Rather getting in touch with that which makes me tick and quiver and tic some more, means that I am removing the heaps, piles and layers put upon me by others or imposed upon me by myself.
I become more real with my awareness. I flow into more of that which is really, truly me.
I have grown so tired of the constant pretend. The play has grown stale, old and outdated.
I remove the fancy red cocktail gloves, you know, the ones with the sequins and bells that go clear up past my elbows...I carefully peel, remove and discard, in favor of them leather ones.
Getting real

Touch and This Alien

Ah, a sensitive subject but one which sorely needs addressing. Whilst it is true that the vast majority of Aspies avoid the touch of others, I beg to strongly disagree. On this issue I stand alone and sometimes get slightly offended for the generalization...actually quite a bit.
Maybe its the fact that I have surrounded myself with very safe and beautiful people...I'm not sure...but I am a hug whore and enjoy being touched.
I laugh, the first thing that springs to mind when I write this, is back when Eldest first started school and one of the other kids mom and I would always chat and she'd do one of those arm punches whenever she saw me and it just tickles me and yeah, sometimes it was a bit strong but it was fun and I knew that she liked me.
OMG, yeah, I forever feel like a little kid. And arm punches are cool.
I am not a china doll. And I most certainly do not enjoy feeling like a pariah and that others are avoiding me and treating me different than any other.
I experience the world around me most thoroughly through touch. I tend to touch everything from newly fallen snow to the bark of trees (I love the feel of our red oaks)to almost every living plant and natural material, rocks, moss, flowers, etc. When I first experienced the smokey glass window at the jail, the first thing I wanted to do was to touch it..because if I touch something I can understand it.
I have learned to restrain my self on a number of occasions simply because I wasn't sure if it was appropriate. Damn, I have this thing where I love to touch peoples hair and I have to remember not to always act on that impulse. The same is true about certain clothing that either looks really soft and inviting or just plain new and different. Yeah, another thing about me that is a lot like a little kid.
One of my favorite endeavours is volunteering at little guys school because there are about half a dozen kids who will simply walk up to me and ask me for a hug. Ah, to be so unabashed.
Asking,hmm, asking, sometimes I wonder why that doesn't work very well. I have some theories but all I know for sure is that it, the mechanism whereby a person asks for and receives that which they desire, simply don't work. And the more emotional the request, the less likely that it will ever be spoken.
Another big secret, (I am all about dispelling the myths because living within this room, this mansion of secrets is akin to spending ones life within a small rubber room where the only ornaments on the wall are pointed spears, lining the entire wall, evenly spaced every six inches or so, all pointing in and very sharp...yeah, one gets afraid to even move lest the bleeding begin) is that sometimes my arms simply won't work and I am unable to hug back and the funny thing is that that is often times when I need it the most. (see, I wrote that as fast as I could because it is one of those more..painful, emotional truths that I believe if I write really fast, I can pretend that I did not reveal :) So, just because someone does not hug back does not mean to back off.
Boy, shouldn't life be a bit simpler than all this?

The loneliest times in my life, and remember that I have lived months and maybe even years with an almost extreme form of self-isolation, have been when there was no one to hold.
Dang, honestly, one of the reasons that I specifically had my kids was to have someone to hold. And a puppy just didn't meet the criteria..it doesn't fulfill this human-contact need that I have.
Something that I have noticed, especially as of late..is just how very much time I spend..lost in my own thoughts. Hours a day would not be an understatement. And...touch makes me feel real...helps me to realize that I am really here. Its very grounding and reassurring. I know, probably sounds a bit odd, but I have really spent years in the "in between"..in the fog, observing the mist, slightly removed and behind the curtain...and touch makes me feel real, complete and all together...its a validation that I am really here and wanted, needed, vital, alive, all kinds of things.
I guess I will always be the alien but every once in awhile its nice to feel human. Touch is all about being human, being real...really being here

Distraction....Not Wanting To Go THERE...Coping

Its quite clear that looking at photos was a hmmm, really bad idea, as I feel like I am on a very slippery slope and am descending into the hell of pain, remorse, missed opportunity and extreme sorrow. Man, I really didn't think this one thru and never saw such an emotional reaction coming.
I am not at all happy about where this train is going and the speed with which it is taking me there. I am queasy from the swaying of the lights and the floor that is all atremble. I shudder and quake. In order to avoid the descent, I run, literally, to find the appropriate song to play 150 times to prevent going to that very darkest of stations. If only I could get ahold of the brakeman and make him pull the emergency stop...but he isnt listening to me, no, he has those damn ear plugs in, Again!
I'm fine, really..been here before, just figuring it all out (I'm going to throw my peanut butter toast at the brakeman Really, Really hard and pelt him in the back of the head, that bastard :)

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 me...an 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 words...how 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 joke..it 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 word...as 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 her...now, 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 go...to 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 vest...it is all I have of her...and...and..it 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 hands...so what...they'll heal...everything heals..at 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 years....so, 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 betrayal...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 things...an 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 leave...now...I'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 yours...you can have it back now...."
She leaves...and I let her

The Alien Observes..Anger, Hurt, Love Sex

I have observed a number of things... People that are angry are hurt, in pain. They lash out at everyone, blindly, erroneously, swinging fists with eyes closed. Someone hurt them really bad. (I'm talking about those people who seem angry most of the time)And they can't get a grip on it...can't seem to come to terms with it and release their pain in an alternative way. Angry individuals are hurting.
Frustration seems to be when someone or something fails to meet some expectation that we have...like a dream unfulfilled. Or when we ourselves, fail to reach a goal.
I often Wonder how much I am supposed to allow others to lead their own lives and if and when I am supposed to intervene. Where is the line between being an individual and making ones own choices and allowing someone to do an act which the observer feels is wrong?
What is right and wrong anyway, but a subjective point of view?
Love and sex. I've noticed that some people equate having sex as being in love, wherein sex becomes some sort of tool in which one can "get love". I don't believe that to be true. Many people who are having sex are no where near love and vice versa.
Pain and Love are both HUGE words with a multitude of degrees and meanings, intensities and levels. To say one of them is to whisper into a crowded room...the meaning is only clear to those who can hear it..in a sense, grasp and understand the place in which it is spoken.
Alcohol, drugs, excess, its all a pain-killer, something that is hidden or that we are uncomfortable with. Often I think of addiction as a very strange, warped band-aid that is trying so hard to cover up something that we don't like about ourselves...usually it's false expectations imposed upon someone by another. I find it hard to believe that we could have ever done something so awful that we have to hide from ourselves in shame. Or cover it up and try and bury it.
Why do we consistently find our every little fault and drag out the magnifying glass? Why do we pick on and berate ourselves for being human? I don't get it. Learned behavior, mostly?
The caged bird can sing if it wants

Loyalty and Aspergers...My Word is My Bond

It wasn't until the past couple of weeks that I realized "loyalty" meant something to this Aspie, and her son, that was much more than the standard definition.
Loyalty-quality, state or instance of being loyal; faithfulness or faithful adherence to a person, goverment, cause, duty, etc...
Loyal-...faithful to those persons, ideals, etc. that one is under obligation to defend
As an example of ferocious loyalty....if I was, say, 17 years old again, and my best friend Maureen asked me to go with her and do something with her...I would do it, probably without question. Legal or not, stupid or not, I would have followed her. If Maureen has gotten thru all the walls and barriers and I call her "friend" then, yes, I would do whatever she asked Without question. That is Aspie loyalty.
Because I trust her enough, to allow her to See me...I become blind to everything else.
Is it because I have such poor definition of self that I so narrowly follow her? Is it because she was the only person willing to hang out with me and go places with me? Was I that desperate and lonely for a friend? Definitely possible.
There is soo much here, bear with me...
People use the term "friend" with different degrees and meanings/ levels of friendship. I have a handful of friends..these are people who i don't hide myself from in Any way. They see the real me even when I am agitated or emotional and we are both comfortable with that. It is probably my biggest criteria. If I feel embarrassed around someone, its a deal breaker. Comfort is key.
Through observation, I have noticed that the word friend can oft times have a much more liberal meaning and encompasses, what I term, acquaintances.
Facebook friend, is nothing more than a slander and degradation of the word as it means, in my book, "someone you know or have had contact with, even very casually".
I could count on two hands how many friends that I have had, okay, maybe two and a half. That is were I differ from the Neuro-Typical.
Friend means loyalty...ferocious, semi-blind, total immersion loyalty. I don't do anything half-way, as I have heard others often remark of me. And yes, it is a very difficult circle to break in to. I am quite selective. I have learned that one is often the company one keeps...and that is sooo true for this Aspie. I am much more careful these days.

Okay, Eldest wasn't so lucky...its a learning curve thing.

My word is my bond. I'm not sure if it is because of the liberal looseness with which NTs spout their words or not, but I have always had, like, this unspoken code of honor where my every word becomes an unbreakable bond. Maybe it is because I take things literally...or I had been let down time after time when people said one thing but really meant another. Maybe its simply a way not to be so confused.

Have you ever watched Crocodile Dundee? Its playing as I write and I can understand the confusion of Mick being tossed into a foreign land and feeling quite the stranger, the alien, if you will. Life for an Aspie is a lot like that...really.

I honor my verbal bonds...actually its more like bondage most of the time. I can see where I have, frequently, beat myself up because I said one little thing,like, I'll be there at 8 and if i arrive at 8:10, I feel like something sacred has been broken. Really, it is time for me to lighten up on this one because it leads to too much self-castigation. Granted, I will never be as loose-lipped as the average NT, but I could give myself a break and find a little leeway in this factor.
Maybe the bonds are that much stronger because we are more selective or just don't find many others that we want to let in. Maybe we have been hurt so much by false friends who were really doing nothing more than feigning friendship in an attempt to later make fun of us.

Ahhh, yeah, the sting...rejection, hurt, embarrassment, those are really big butt bites. Anyone with half a brain would try and avoid them.
They say Aspies lack emotion, but in my reality, it is just the opposite. Aspies feel so much more and with such great depth that we are simply trying to protect ourselves from further pain, by throwing up wall after wall, digging moats and trenches and keeping others at arms length. I think some of my other posts may have touched on the depths of my emotions...lol...yeah. I don't know how one measures pain, I'm just saying...
Anyway...Thar she blows...okay, I'm done