Magpie Syndrome, Stealing Pretty Things, a Repost

Magpie Syndrome and Aspergers,Autism..Stealing

So, I went to this conference last week..and I found myself admiring pretty, shiny things, mostly other peoples bling and baubles. When seated with others from my..party, I often found my eyes seriously gravitated to their necklaces and rings to the point where I had to either consciously self-restrain myself from touching or I would ask to see said pretty shiny things. Most people proved to be pretty okay with allowing me to touch their goods with one woman even going so far as to remove her ring and let me play with it for a moment:)
This got me thinking...
So, upon my return home, I scoured the internet to see if there was a correlation for Aspergers/Ausitm and pretty shinys and/ or if the obsession with all that glitters was a psych or "named" syndrome.
It took me awhile to stumble upon "Magpie Syndrome" and, even then, only on an obscure, single website,"Urban Dictionary". I wasn't sure Urban Dictionary was a legit site, so I search wikied it and it seems legit.
Here is what it says:
Magpie Syndrome- an irrational affinity for shiny objects. When a highly shiny object is seen by the sufferer it often may induce a compulsive need to claim it and several minutes of staring at said object. This will later end in the sufferer pocketing the object to add to his/ her collection by a sunny windowsill at home. If a shiny object is outside of a sufferers grasp it will usually result in a strong, though usually short-live obsession over it.
Okay, so it is somewhat tongue-in-cheek and it is a site where individuals submit words and definitions but it really,really fits.
I find that it is irrational and definitely obsessive to the point of distraction and nothing else matters, albeit momentary or temporarily.
Just yesterday, I was picking up my phone and the tech helping me had on a bright, shiny necklace with a semi-familiar symbol on it. After a few minutes of figuring out when it was appropriate to ask, I did. Of course, I do not touch things directly upon a person like that, but I was able to do the second best thing and overtly stare at it as she described what it was.
My son, my eldest with the Aspergers, has this to an even higher degree. Back when he was quite young, 4 or 5, we noticed bright, shiny, expensive small things missing from the house...jewelry, crystals, things like that. He had been pilfering items that were sparkly. So, as biological mom, I gave him more than one good talking to but the behavior persisted.
It became quite clear that this was something that was obsessive and outside his rational control. My ways of coping were to simply start going through his room once in a while, locating the stash and returning them to their proper place.
His pocketing never stopped. And I lost a number of very expensive items to his Magpie Syndrome.

Anyway, I would be most to curious as to if other Aspies, Autistics have the same symptoms

Making myself get out of bed

It isn't easy but the chasm of inertia and paltry nothingness combined with the need to have some form of external communication with the world has forced my hand. I mess up when talking to people so the blog is a fair, non judgemental listener. Yeah, now I remember why I get those monthly disability checks, when I struggle to get out of bed for the simplest of things. Long sentences. I hope they convey a message.
I stop indoors as interacting makes me feel as if I sound inept. My decision making skills are compromised so it's best not to do too much, lest I make mistakes to feel really bad about. I wish I had a friend but I've exhausted those possibilities. If talking is so stressful and difficult, it's hard to make and keep friends as they demand, not demand but require regular contact and communication.
Did I mention I love my puppy? She sticks with me through thick and thin and doesn't mind sleeping in lots.
The loneliness feels like isolation behind a curtain of black and I'm sitting in the dark, holding out my hand through the curtain not wanting to see all the people passing by and the old familiar feeling of rejection but again...it's impossible to connect in the real world right now.
Time either moves slowly, erratically or jumps from one hour to the next with little fanfare. I question my worth, lying on the couch all day, yet I have not the inclination to even get up and change this present. Maybe I'm depressed, I don't know, or simply overwhelmed by working to mentally process that truck load of shit dropped at my door on Monday.
And new revelations I cannot share here that are neither good nor bad but new and mind consuming.
My therapist done good, just wish I knew more about this strange sitting person I see every week. Don't know why I am bothered that I know nothing about her as she has been a trusted ally for a spell.
I did go for a brief walk after dark. It seemed safe and comforting amidst the slightly glowing darkness with only the moon for light.
Seems like there is so much to sort through that it's physically draining. I'm eating some and trying to keep my fluid intake up but I don't feel much of anything and nada tastes good.
I'm tired. Going to bed. Wasn't a bad day just was.

Staying in Bed All Day

There are a number of valid reasons to stay in bed for days at a time.
1) winter
2) illness
3) grief
4) depression
5) recovering and recharging
  I've spent days in beds for all those reasons. Currently, I seem to be working on #5. Yesterday's therapy session delivered a truck load of new memories, information and feelings all at once. My life tends to revolve and spin around the one-hour nuclei every Monday called therapy. This one-hour tends to slant the remainder of the week, as well as resolving or introducing new issues from the previous week. My brain is slowly fetting out what I need, figuring out how to process and adjust to this heightened awareness and helpfully bothersome information.
  Bed is safe. I can't be outside and risk any more emotional upset. My inward focus doesn't allow me to be cordial, nice or give a rats ass about anything else. So, in a way, it's better for others and myself that I embed, rest, sleep it off, drift away within the security of my bed. Everyone knows the comforter is bulletproof, in a manner of speaking.
If I don't take care of and protect myself, ain't nobody else going to do it. I feel too vulnerable and exposed to leave the house. I have a lot on my mind that has to be worked out and no one can really help with it. I consider myself fortunate to have someone willing to listen to me for an hour every week, so I'm not complaining.
  I'm on anti-depressants which tend to prevent me from sinking below the danger line. Once my brain sorts and categorizes this last info, maybe I'll feel like getting off this couch. Definitely feel justified and copacetic taking a few days off. No worries.

Insomnia Again

I guess I've always had a bit of insomnia going on, as going to bed before 1am was unheard of. I've thought of insomnia as just another minor disturbance in my frequently plagued life.
Until now.
For the past few months, my sleeplessness has reached epic proportions with the majority of falling asleep times around 4-5 am. That's a serious interruption that has me scrambling for answers so that I can resume a pseudo normal life. My days are spent quite miserable and grumpy. I've used up my bag of tricks with different prescribed meds and over the counter aids. My only hopes of slumber before 2am is to mix my meds with small doses of drink. Not the best idea but I'm starting to feel super desperate.
I'm guessing my only recourse and possibility of hope rests, lol, in an appointment with my doctor, although we've gone through a number of sleep meds with disastrous side effects. Uck.
Don't talk to me about the standard rules and trials. I know about caffeine, exercise, supplements and don't even go there about the miracle of melatonin because it made the inside of my head hurt so bad and weird I wanted to kill myself. Yeah, a seriously bad ass reaction at an extremely low dose.
I am starting to suffer from lack of proper sleep. Being up most of the night is irritating most of my day. I don't have answers. I hate problems without answers.
Just hanging out and venting in the
No
Sleep
Zone

Not so afterall, relationships

Well, I guess I'm not the only one who feels I'm getting the shaft. Judging by the words and facial expressions when I mention how I end up with nothing, I've seriously been a sucker at picking relationships. I've inevitably followed the pattern most abused, neglected children due, marrying someone a lot like their abusive parents. We tell others how we want to be treated and we allow ourselves to be treated like dirt. Sorry state of affairs when the word "love" forever means the kind of love received from hollow, narcissistic parents..it's nothing. Still garbage. At least it isn't my imagination. At least acquaintances and friends have been left angered and upset at my maltreatment.
It sucks being a nice person in a cruel world where everyone only cares about themselves. I'm sure there are people out their as naive, caring and as honest as myself, just hard to find in the dense murky underbrush that reeks of stench and "I'm number 1".
Shit, I've been a pigeon on a wire unwavering even as the shotgun blasts whistle past my ears.
I haven't been a doormat so much as a carpet remnant rolled out to be trampled on, once sullied rolled back up till the next time you want to make sure your floors don't get dirty with the muck on your boots from stepping over everyone else's needs. I've been a fool so long the jesters hat has grown into my skull over the dunce cap.
You can give and give and give, and there is always someone who will keep taking. Fool.
I've had my needs given no credence, once again, as if I didn't have any and if I did, who the fuck cares. Living with cold, unfeeling robots who ingest the innocent and kind for breakfast as they wallow in their own shit that smells like shineola and flowers.
The pots been calling the kettle black so long, the kettles forgotten how to boil as its been constantly stained and tainted with unwanted seconds that the homeless guy would turn down. Like its some fucking favor that you give me worn out shoes.
Oh, how the crown has fallen as the poor idol worshipper has wiped her eyes and removed the tunnel vision googles. Hearty, hearty fool. 5 foot 6 jackass. It all finally comes into view, full focus and laughter, humiliation that such a sick game continued past ten rounds. The crowd cheers as she steps out of the ring refusing to take anymore low blows and invisible punches.
You'd think the weakest, most needy and injured would be given protection and utmost, compassionate care, not another round of childhoods blows. Yeah, I'm pretty disgusted with myself for making such awful choices. Like I was thrown a bone and gnawed on it forever like a grateful, stupid beast. Seriously? I've been that stupid and overrun.
Some people know a sucker when they see them. Maybe the big L on my forehead gave me away.
I'll not put myself in degradations way by engaging in any more relationships whilst I dry my eyes and they be still blurry. I will engage in harmless adult fun that may meet some of my long foregone needs but no commitments need apply.
The stupid girl realizes the error of her ways, choices and thinking.

Feeling Cohesive

  Okay, I probably should have remembered to smile as I took this selfie with Nana, but it was really hard to hold my camera still and get both of us in the frame.
Last week was my first venture out to my friends horse farm in a few years. I loved seeing the horses I remembered and a couple of new ones. The pony fold had also grown from 5 to 6. It felt refreshing to leave the city for a few hours. I spent my time brushing the ponies and getting  reacquainted. My favorites were Athena, the dark, brown-haired girl with a beard and Wilma, the donkey. Both females have always displayed nervousness and anxiety so  I was careful to respect their feelings and would back off if they showed signs of wanting to leave the stall. I'd let them calm down and dictate to me how much they wanted to be groomed and handled. I understood them and gave them more attention than the playful and confident male ponies.

 I'd forgotten how calming it was being around animals. It's an external focus for this inward, autistic mind. Each pony has a personality and if I stood and watched quietly from a corner, the hierarchy was evident. Lol, boys are bullies, outgoing and playgul, nipping at my coat. I loved the feel of their coats and manes, each one was different. As I groomed, I talked to them in a soothing, reaffirming voice. It may have been awhile since the ponies were handled and thoroughly groomed. I think they are the "little guys" on the farm and the horses end up with more attention and hands on care.

  I decided that I should drive out there, once a week or so, and spend time grooming and talking to them. It makes me feel good inside. I can never get enough of that.

 

When I was a little girl, I wanted someone to be nice to me, swing with me and talk and not talk