Day Twenty-Four: Life is Like a Roller Rink (and a letter from LV)

 

February 22, 2012

My Dearest Samantha,

Here are a few things you need to get straight. You are a loving being, and humble enough. Don’t pray for any more humility, please, because you already know where that gets you. Take your husband’s advice, and ask for more pride, for goodness sake!

And don’t eat frozen carrot cake by the fork-full when you’re stressed out; it’s not good for the system, or that spare tire you’ve got going around your waist. Thanks to you, we’ve got this non-stop, hacking cough, because YOU shoveled the cake so fast a nut scratched your throat. Thirty minutes later, after a cough suppressant, Benadryl, and cough drop, you’re still coughing. And so loudly, you’ve concerned the youngest lad. And you don’t even like carrot cake. You only like the frosting. What’s up with that?

What’s going on, anyhow? You know what I’m talking about. Where’s that go-getter who wouldn’t let the world stop her? The lady, who taught, counseled, advocated, and even woke up early to meditate? Where is she?

Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, you’ve latched on to this Aspergers gig like there’s no tomorrow.  By the way, I read your post from a few days ago, and I don’t talk that much during most movies, just the boring romantic comedies with no plot worth following.

Come on Girl, I’m dying in here watching you beat yourself all up. And who cares about the professor not recognizing your writing ability and knocking you down points, because you didn’t follow her rules to the exact. That’s life.

You can’t always earn full points in life. Isn’t that what you always tell Joe—to not let what others’ think bother him. But here you are worrying all the time that you’re not enough. Get with it, already. You are already enough, and so much more.

Pull out the prayers and poetry you use for inspiration. Reread some of the plethora of spiritual and religious books you’ve collected. Stop focusing on only one genre: That of poor little old Sam and Aspergers. You’re creating more clutter in that brain of yours than you need.

Yes, you can write a post like this. Who fricken cares? If this is the only post they read, and they think your nuts, so be it. I might wear those tight sweaters with the LV monogram, but I’ve got enough of Brain for the both of us. So let me take the lead awhile, would you?

Stop trying to control life and just ease up and relax. Just because you don’t think you can, doesn’t mean you can’t. You aren’t even trying. You’ve got all you need around you, and more, but still you wallow in self-pity. This isn’t thirty years ago. You don’t need to be sad anymore. This is life—right now, this day, this moment, seize it.

Get that pedicure! See that movie. Have that tea with a friend. Stop hiding in your house. Blast the music. Open the windows. Let the fresh air in. Bang pots and pans. Light incense. Scream. Shout. Cheer. Do whatever it takes to break out of this funk.

Yes, Scooby’s dead. Yes, you have to retrieve his ashes. Yes, sometimes college totally sucks, and your fixations seemingly suck you dry. But you know what, you are the one who has a choice. You always have the glorious choice. Continue to sit on your rump and feel sorry for yourself, or get up and get moving. I don’t care how far or where. Just take a step in any direction.

I know this is harsh, but harsh is what you need right now. I know what’s best, and I see what you’ve been doing. Enough already. Get back to where you were. Nothing has changed that drastically. If you must, keep mourning the loss of Scoob. But please stop mourning the loss of you! You’re still here. You’re still you. Even when others don’t see, you’ll always be you.

Here’s a poem to keep handy. Now get of your butt and start skating! The world’s waiting.

Your Friend for Life,

LV (the Little Voice inside my head)

Life is Like a Roller Rink      (February 2012)

Life is like a roller rink.

We each groove and glide to our own beat.

We slow down, speed up, and then slow down again, taking the turns as they come.

Though others may knock us down, run us over, or push us out-of-the-way, we get back up eventually, and keep moving.

We glide forward and sideways, and every once in a while find ourselves going backwards.

After twirling too fast for too long, we laugh; we cry.

We hold hands to keep our balance.

In moments of bravery, we speed out to the inner circle, keeping our pace in the fast lane.

In moments of caution, we remain on the outer circle, gripping the wall for dear life.

Sometimes another gently pulls us off the wall.

We get blisters and bruises.

We ram into others, stop and apologize, and then lend a hand.

We tangle up our feet and fall on our butts.  Some of us have more grace, some of us more padding.

If we aren’t careful, when we try to pull others up, we fall down right with them.

From the sideline, we observe those gliding by, wondering how they do the things they do, or questioning if we might, someday, do the same thing.

We sweat.  We stink.

Sometimes we trade in the skates that served us well, in hopes of discovering a better fit or style.

There are speeders who don’t pay attention to anyone else, until they collide into someone, or collapse from exhaustion.

Racing ahead, we partake in games, in hopes of a prize.

Some are left behind.

While many never seem to catch up.

We feel the wind in our faces and the rush of adrenaline.

We are surrounded by lights that illuminate our way.

Some spin and do tricks, in hopes of gaining attention.

Somewhere, up high in a box is a person in charge.  We may make a request or keep moving without second thought.

We don’t take much notice that we are going round and round, only to end up right back where we started.

When we rest, regroup, and nurse our injuries, there is nothing that can stop us from getting back on our feet, and starting the circular journey, all over again.

And in the end, when the music inevitably stops, we all must leave.

By Everyday Asperger’s Blog author, Samantha Craft

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14 thoughts on “Day Twenty-Four: Life is Like a Roller Rink (and a letter from LV)

  1. You seems you have become your own observer, and that is a good thing. In that space may I make a suggestion, or two 1) become curious 2) then ask yourself “for what purpose am I doing that? how has that supported me thus far?

    Then after you have down that, take the carrot cake out the freezer as it tastes way better defrosted 😉

    Chin up!

    1. Yes, a wiser LV has risen. This writing is helping. In what ways is your writing helping you?
      More curious??? lol. Just kidding, I know what you mean. Curious about the new observer. Love your last line—yes, takes so much better out of the freezer. Look forward to reading your post later today. ~ Sam

      1. “In what ways is your writing helping you?”

        It is having a tremendous anchoring effect. I’m starting to find when I set the time, there is almost an autopilot mode that steps in. When I stop, I stop and walk away. There is still some attachment I have to what I have written as I check out for any feedback and site stats and re-read it a few times after I’ve sent it, noticing errors etc. ‘pose that’s my ego! My aim is to get to a point where I can send it into the universe and completely detach from it. Hoping when the 30 days are up I’ll be there, because I need to start writing up my case studies and it would be most valuable to be detached from ‘my story’ when I do.

        And of course it’s about getting into doing something daily. I’ve always been one to start something and not complete – really unhelpful habit! No more!

        When I started doing diagnostics and the Truth Model I was all over the place, similar to my beginning blogs. I turned it into a daily practice, over time I started to love it and mastery followed. I’m hoping the same will happen with my writing, as I feel the internet is a fantastic platform to get information out into the public consciousness.

        And lastly, of course its helping me heal wounds caused from my dyslexia at a VERY deep and profound level. The deepest healing always comes when you are able to step into the consciousness of the conflict. Exactly what you have done with these blogs. Your blogs are still a massive motivator for me,so thanks again!

        Hope I’ve answered your question.

        🙂

  2. I am sorry for the loss of your Scooby. It is so difficult. I lost my dog year before last around Christmas. I didn’t realize it then but I started a downward spiral with chocolate as my companion. I gained about 40 pounds. Finally, last June, my LV also straightened me out and I’ve lost 36 back.

    Your LV has some wonderful advice here. You’re lucky to hear it.

    Stark analogy with the roller rink! Well written!!

    1. I am sorry for the loss of your dog. They are such a part of our family. And especially a loss around Christmas. I’m so happy LV helped you separate from your chocolate-companion. I never liked chocolate until I was pregnant with my second son. Now I love it. Congrats on the 36 pounds. Fantastic for you. Thank you. ~ Sam

  3. Hello my friend,
    Just love the LV, I make time each day to Listen through my Loops. 🙂
    I can relate to so much of this.
    It seems the more I learn to help my daughter, the more I see bits of me.
    It’s staying grounded in love that helps me to put Aspergers aside.
    Not always good at this though, still learning to love me enough to block the negative voice.
    Love and hugs.
    Lisa. xx 🙂

  4. I am sorry for your loss of Scooby.

    Yet another great post!

    “Yes, you can write a post like this. Who fricken cares?” Exactly! And there are always those of us who are going to think it’s great! 🙂

    I love your poem! I am just starting to find my balance, but some days it takes a lot of effort. My “LV” will sing show tunes and get me all loopy! 🙂

  5. I can feel the positive vibrations radiating from your post! Despite the great changes taking place in your life, you have reached the ultimate conclusion: ease up, be happy, embrace guidance.

    Thank you for sharing.

    1. Great. Glad you can feel the positive vibration. I do feel I am breaking out of the funk. No more coffee, and started walking daily again. Have about 5 other things to implement. Embrace guidance is so true. The ease up part—-I’ll get there. I’m all for happiness. Thank YOU for your words.

Thank you for your comments :)

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