Aspergers, Meltdowns and Violence

As I process yesterday's meltdown in my therapist's office, it occurs to me that it may have been the first time I can recall exhibiting any type of violence or aggressive movements.
Specifically, I remember grabbing at and pulling strongly on my clothing in an aggressive manner.
I'm stymied as to why after having Aspergers all these years, am I only now showing signs of violent behavior.
One, I think it maybe because I couldn't run away or get out of the room where I was overwhelmed. Looking back, my go to thing to do whenever my emotions overwhelmed me I ran out the nearest door, to my car or to the nearest restroom. Because I was in a pain session and I walked into the appointment with a ton of things to say, I think I took a no-run option in hopes of being able to say what I intended and had planned for days.
Maybe I was partially frustrated over just that, my inability to articulate.
Could it be that I've gained some self-assurredness which, according to the following chart, relates to meltdowns?
I'm guessing it's one of these ideas.
I'm surprised buttons didn't go flying off my shirt and I didn't make any trips in my clothing.
In retrospect, all the other meltdowns I ran. Maybe that's what I need to remember to do.
I like this simple chart as it easily provides the differences between meltdowns and shutdowns.

The Autistic Meltdown, Unpredictable

I'd been seeing my therapist for 2 years, roughly 80 visits or so. She's changed the office around a bit, brought in a couple new plants, changed out one of the chairs (this did cause some distress) and even brought in a portable air purifier. No big deal. Each time she did change something I jokingly would say, "just trying to mess with the Autistic, aren't you?"
Maybe she thought I was joking. I was trying to forwarn her not to make any big unnecessary changes.
Today I walked in, sat down and noticed that the shade, which for 80 visits had always been completely closed, was open about 7 inches.
All these thoughts ran through my mind in a few seconds:
Oh, this is different.
I like this. I can see outside.
It makes it brighter in here.
Why didn't we do this sooner?
Lol, then a human walked by on the sidewalk. Then I noticed the nearby office window and realized the secretary was in my line of sight.
I flipped.
Jumped off my seat, started yammering, hid where the window couldn't see me and waited for my therapist to enter.
I was sputtering, "fix the window, fix the window, fix the window!" (I'm known for repeating certain, important or puzzling things x3.)
Therapist promptly went to the window and adjusted it back to normal.
The switch had been flipped. I was upset, crying, alternating between sitting, pacing and rocking, flapping arms, hands and fingers. I was full blown meltdown.
The agenda for my therapy session was completely overridden. I had taken hours to organize, list and line up the items that I wanted to discuss. Hours. I get one hour a week to vent, analysis and share so I'm careful to prioritize and list items in sequence of importance. And in an instant, in one unpredictable moment, when something small changed, all my work was gone.
I felt the futility as my hands flapped. I knew, once melting like this, that the entire session was as good as down. Nothing productive was going to take place. Not one of the items on my list. My insurance would pay for a lost, useless session and whatever was on my agenda was thrown to the backburner.
My therapist asked if there was anything she could do but experience has taught me there is nothing anyone can do. I needed to get away from the surprise, the shade, that room. I needed to get somewhere safe where I could flap and place and repeat nonsense words to myself.
Sigh.
I'm not even sure I can go back to that office. It doesn't feel safe anymore, like a sacred space has been violated.
I'm guessing I'll peak into the office to check the state of the shade, to make sure it isn't up, probably for a few weeks if not a few months.
I ended the session early. It was pointless.
I guess I just need to have a meltdown and behave like Rainman once every couple of months so I don't forget I'm autistic.
I'd just like a quiet, predictable, low-key, dramafree life with as little distress as possible.
Unpredictable things are always going to happen. It's best to take it easy whenever I can. There's so much that doesn't need to be done. I'm entitled to sit, unwind, process and calm down no matter how long it takes.
Thanks for reading

The Flashbacks Continue, Prostituted at 14

The flashbacks seem non-stop. No sooner do I deal with one then another surfaces to take over my life.
I was aware that my dad prostituted me from 2-10 but I didn't know that it continued until I was at least 14.
There was a Ramada Inn in town, right by the freeway. In 1978, dad bought a CB radio for the Express purpose of finding men looking for child prostitutes.
We still had the yellow station wagon. Dad bought a CB that he could remove and bring in the hotel room.
I clearly remember the floral suitcase that held a change of clothes and the CB. I remember the lobby, going to the room, the entire of the room with white bedspreads of all things. Remember the shower, too.
Dad was in business the first Saturday of the month from 4-9. He had some regular businessmen that showed up, as well as truckers he communicated with on the radio.
I made 20 or 40 dollars, depending on what I had to do.
I remember seeing the wad of cash on the bed after a shift of "working".
Yeah, there was nothing normal about my childhood. I'm working each day to wrestle with new memories and to stay functional.
It isn't easy. It just isn't easy.

Existing without love

Is difficult.
Is no way to live but it is reality.
I can't even remember the last time I heard those three little words.
I see why people stay with bad love because any love, bad, abusive, one sided, is better than no love at all.
Because living with no love at all is empty and hollow.
Maybe it's because I only used to hear those words from people that didn't mean is; people actively harming me; those who had never been loved.
I don't know.
Seems like an empty, hollow existence but then maybe that's what my life is all about. Searching for something that doesn't exist and finding meaning in the emptiness.
This isn't a life worth living

Functional Again

Life has returned back to my norm. One hour of therapy was all I required to get back on track. It was a very long week waiting for my appointment time.
I was able to get my shopping done, drive to the next city, interact with people and feel okay.
Just sayin'

The Secret Society of the Unhappily Married

I see the hypocrisy and the sadness of so many unhappily married couples. Marriages or relationships where people stay together "for the children" or because they have "invested so many years" or "they are too afraid, too old or unwilling to start over".
I feel sad for these people. Life is so short, yet they are consciously choosing to remain unhappy, miserable, with someone they no longer love or even like.
From my completely amateur estimation, based on couples I know, there are about 75% of pairings in which at least one person is not getting their needs meet.
When the affection, the intimacy and the smiles are gone, why stay?
When you grow older and wiser, when you blossom emotionally and realize that the love has faded to the point that you're merely friends, or worse yet, two people honoring vows that can barely tolerate the others presence, why stay?
Why deprive yourself of happiness, contentment and the possibility of finding a new spark?
It's like so many choose the stability and security of emptiness over the risk of taking a step forward. So many prefer the trap of routine rather than taking a step forward.
I just dont understand it. I really don't.
Maybe it's just me, but the unhappily couples are easy to spot. They never mention their significant other. They aren't sharing photos of the two of them on social media. In private they freely speak of the difficulty, the emptiness. They don't seem to smile much. They are half-empty, living a lie, feeling unloved and alone in their partnership.
What a waste.
How tragic to be unloved and resigned to a sad fate of their own choosing.
I'll never understand it.
I'm not in a relationship but at least I'm not in a dead, a using and unfulfilling one. I'm no longer living a lie and living with someone just to make ends meet. I wasn't afraid to end a decade long relationship that was nothing but an extinguished flame that was secure and financially comfortable.
I refused to live the lie.
I had the emotional intelligence to know I was unfulfilled.
And I was brave enough to walk away.
It's your life. Use it well.

An Aggravated Egregious Dissociative State, AEDS or When All Hell Breaks Loose

I am currently in an Aggravated Egregious Dissociative State or AEDS, as I like to call it. I haven't had an episode such as this in many years.
It basically began as I was in the middle of the painting pictured. Slowly, over the past couple of weeks, more and more flashbacks, body memories, audio memories and awareness of this highly traumatic incident has surfaced. This memory is in my top 3 as most intense and disturbing. There were many, many alters involved so this is classified as a Highly Intense and Complex event memory.
So, what does an AEDS feel like? You'd probably recognize it as the "all Hell's broken loose" feeling.
For me, it feels like this:
Highly dissociative- very spacey, disoriented as to time and space, unable to focus and feel my body, headachy at times.
I see and hear and feel things from the past, in my present, at any time.
It's so miserable and uncomfortable, like being in a congested, crowded, stifling room and you can't see your feet or find a way out.
Late Saturday I was able to find a handheld. In my haze I heard one small phrase from a cd I've been listening to all month. I turned on my cd player, located the song (I couldn't remember the title, just the one little snippet.) And I started playing that song, put my player on repeat so that it would continuously play.
There was my lifeline, my connection back to reality. As I listened to the words, the rhythm and started singing along, I merged back into a semi-solid reality. The song has been playing my every waking moment. That must be hundreds, if not hundreds and hundreds of times.
Now, I wait for therapy. That's all. I put all my effort into just taking care of my pup and getting myself fed. One reason this memory, along with the others, has been allowed to surface is because we have a regular therapist. Our controller, kindof higher consciousness, knows that memories have a place to be processed. Less energy goes into keeping memories submerged and locked up. Granted, it's highly unpleasant but this is my brain and my body working to heal.
I don't just have a dissociative disorder, I have a severe dissociative disorder. I'm not kidding. While there are others like me, there's a small percentage in the top tier. That's me. That's us. Repetative, frequent, multi-perpetrator, heinous, sadistic abuses.
Whilst each and every day is challenging, I'm grateful that few are as bad as this current spell.
It's funny...a multiple in and of her/his self is more than a handful. Add in Autism and you get full blown bonkers with added repetative, erratic physical tics and movements, enhanced verbal difficulties and a whole host of symptoms that can't easily be distinguishable as to whether or not this is autistic, memory related or due to a specific alter personality.
I'm kinda thrilled that I've become coherent enough to write about such a bizarre and unique phenomenon. Just being able to find words to describe this chaos is so remarkable.
I haven't left the house except to take the dog out And this morning I drove to get coffee. I had to check myself at the door to make sure i could drive. I'd been in the house so long that i wanted to get coffee and drive to a nearby park to just get out and take some pictures. After i picked up the drink, i checked in with my "people on the inside", my alters, to see if they were okay to go to the park.
Nope. Everyone wanted to go home. It was like being in a car full of kids, not like siblings or friends but like scared, crying, hungry, miserable kids. I asked if they wanted ice cream as it's Sunday and the one day we usually have an ice cream sundae.
Nope. Then, I'm not sure which one of them, saw the Burger King sign and said "we want fries!!!!" Then others chimed in. We have a small order of fries about once every three or four months, no one had had breakfast yet, I had the money and it would buy me some temporary happiness, so I pulled into BK and bought a fry.
Happy to be home. Everyone is feeling much better since we are home, safe in familiar territory.
I've been managing to paint a little. A few dishes have gotten done and I'm feeling just okay in the subdued chaos. It's like sitting in a small liferaft as the seas churn, lightning bursts and hail pummels. It's ok. Therapy is only days away and I have my raft.