I’d love you if you were a lobster

Please Note: I thought I was posting this to my blog Everyday Aspie. After I posted it here, I decided to keep it up. See more recent blog here.

Life lately is a shit-muffin. Which reminds me. I had my first ever slice of brown sugar pie, as an Easter (curbside order) treat, and declared that it’s officially my least favorite dessert, hovering at the bottom, below banana cream pie. Oddly, on Easter Sunday, while sitting on the balcony by myself, I saw a convertible, with the top down, drive by our typically quiet, circle-shaped street. In the backseat of the convertible was a person in full Easter Bunny costume. I wished they’d driven around the circle again. A parade.

I have lost count of how many days have passed at home. I read a creative news article about 100 things someone is doing at home during this ‘shelter in place’ order. It made me feel inadequate. Each time the list mentioned children, I felt sad. My list would be short. Eating, resting, napping, and not much more. I guess ‘getting better’ is enough. Even it it’s one thing.

I have energy to write this blog post, only because I downed a large cup of black gold (cup of Joe) at 3:45 p.m. Pacific Standard Time. And I am gladly stimming through editing and rearranging words and thoughts, like a non-dimensional puzzle.

I am still very much fatigued and too tired to look for strong adjectives.

As of late, first thing most mornings, I kindly instruct David to announce, “Hey, Google. Turn Off,” in order to dismiss the white noise of the river rushing. I don’t want to exert the energy to raise my voice.

This morning, I texted David and asked him to bring me a cup water. I don’t remember if I texted ‘please.’ I was too wiped to reach over and drink my green tea (that he’d made for me). I cursed my computer charging cord that rested too far out of reach. Later, upon submitting to coffee cravings, I joked with David: “Remind me at 11 p.m. tonight, when I complain about not being able to sleep, that I had coffee after the noon hour, and that it is okay to watch Netflix on low volume, while you sleep.”

Despite my fatigue, I am still a planner.

Later, I sent him a short apology-text. Making amends for my PMS-perimenopausal-cooped-up-sick-for-too-long-during-global-pandemic freak out. I included a cute emoticon.

My emotional reserves are on extreme low. My typically lousy memory is below par. I am easily lost in thoughts. I forgot about my dog Violet this morning. I dove into a few hours of work. Having promised myself to not work more than two hours, I worked close to four. Not a good idea. And now, know clearly that over three hours of remote-work not only exhausts me, but makes me have no scruples (or patience for other human beings).

It slipped my mind to take Violet out for her early morning ‘outside potty’ time. She was still fast asleep, in her dog bed, like a doggy princess, hours into the day. I am thankful she is almost thirteen (or fourteen) and sleeping in.

To enhance the story, below is a fair visual representation of what Violet’s bed looks like. It was the first image that popped up when I Googled “Image of Round Wicker Chair.” And happens to be the same color. I’ll take that as a sign from God that I am meant to write this downer of a blog post.

To be clear, Violet’s bed is more velvety (and stinky). I originally bought this lounging chair for me, to relax on the balcony. It’s been Violet’s bed pretty much since I brought it home. Every night, after David and I have been watching a television show for at least 30 minutes (typically 60), Violet creeps out from under the bed like clockwork, to the outskirt of the bedroom, and proceeds to pace back and forth (tap, tap, tap), on the hardwood floor, waiting to be ‘tucked in.’ I then get up (growl), walk over, firmly ask her to sit; then I scoop her up like a baby, tell her what a good dog she is, and put a blankie over her. She recognizes many statements– ‘tucked in’ being one of her favorites.

This is our routine. If I don’t ask her to sit, as soon as I rise from the comforts of resting, she scampers back under the bed, as fast as she can, and then wags her tail in triumphant delight. It’s gotten worse, now that David has established himself as alpha ‘dog.’ It’s a game of ‘catch me if you can.’ A game David doesn’t care for much, and one of the primary reasons she has earned her new nickname. A name recently granted by David. I won’t tell you the whole name, as it might embarrass Violet (and David). But it’s blank-muffin. You can fill in the blank any way you wish.

I was too tired to retrieve my foam earplugs for reusing; they are floating in creases of the pink sheets. I was too tired to do much of anything, except during that 30-minute adrenaline rush, when I was mad at David. It was in that mad rush that I swept, scrubbed a wall, and cleaned up the ‘Cesca Room’ — the room attached to our garage. A 200-square-foot, yellow-walled room, where my youngest son usually gathers with his friends to play Dungeon and Dragons. I glanced around the empty room, wondering when the room would be occupied again.

Noting how the simplest of memories brings an intense longing for the normalcy in the days before this virus.

I am going through a mourning phase. Like much of the world. I miss looking forward to things. I miss knowing when I can leave the house again. And I miss feeling safe in my own home. I worry each time David leaves the house. Actually, I worry each time he mentions he might, feasibly leave the house. Even when the tail end of his sentence includes the words social distancing and mask and caution. I sound like a dictator: “Remember the new findings say 13 feet, not 6!” Followed by monologue of useless chatter.

Sometimes, despite my high-risk status, I want to storm out of the house, with my N-95 mask and gloves, and just stomp into the damn grocery store.

Never one to look forward to clothes shopping (gag), I do relax by grocery shopping. All the items and all the selection, the choosing, the evaluating, the picking up and placing in the cart. That entire process, it has always soothed me. Even if I only purchase a handful of items, the mere act of looking at all the colors and choices brings me peace of mind. Similar to disaster movies. I like to think of what to do next.

I am mourning grocery shopping. And ample amounts of blue cheese. Odd that it is blue cheese I miss the most.

It took me weeks to fill out some basic paperwork for a new mental health counselor. I need more therapy. I apologized to the new therapist, I’ve yet to meet, through text, for my inability to turn on the computer. My failure to fill out the needed paperwork. She has my least favorite name (see my book) but I am willing to give her a try. We have an online meeting Thursday. Considering my last five years of living, I have no doubt I (like many autistic people) that I am a mega-magnet for narcissists. I have a lot of processing to do. I don’t want to burden my friends with my woes. Not appropriate during a global pandemic. Like the grocery store, my main go-to’s for relief, don’t work anymore.

This Sunday was the first Easter in 22 years that I didn’t make Easter baskets for my son(s). In the past years, I hid their filled baskets inside a brown grocery bag for them to take back to college and open on Easter. Taped up and secured. This Easter, I am afraid of paper bags. The site of a grocery bag (or Amazon box) makes me wonder how long the novel virus ‘survives’ on paper. Survives is in quotes, as the virus is actual dead to begin with.

I told David, on the balcony, at sunset yesterday evening, that humans are a virus destroying the earth, and it’s good we are being forced inside. I am great at ruining romantic moments.

My days are all blending into the next. I tell myself to be thankful. Hear my mother’s words echoed from my childhood: It could be worse. I am thankful I am not in the Emergency Room. Thankful my oxygen saturation levels are good. Thankful for David. Thankful my children are safe. But still there is so much loss. So much worry. So much suffering. I keep thinking of people dying alone. Of no funerals. Of things one ought not have to think about.

 

My POTS has triggered my neuropathy, amongst other ailments (see previous posts), and I’ve gained weight from stress eating and being less mobile. When I took a shower this morning, I looked down at my thighs and cried. When I took a second shower mid-day (to wash off 30-minute freak out cleaning session), glancing down, I confirmed it was a good plan to not eat.

When I stress about the extra thigh I’ve grown, David insists, “I’d love you, if you were a lobster.” That’s fine and sweet and dandy, and a phrase he uses often to bring a smile to my once-pouty, forlorn face. But would you love me if I was a shit-muffin?

End Post

 

Random Facebook entries, from last 12 days, listed below. Not meant for entertainment.

April 2nd:

Yep. Just what I said would happen in my blog post yesterday:

“The Trump administration is expected to announce that all Americans should wear cloth masks or other face coverings if they go out in public, based on a forthcoming recommendation from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.” New York Times, today

April 5th:

After 27 days of little to no energy, and a couple weeks of being pretty scared concerning my health, this Sunday I did 40 minutes of yard work! Yay! There were many things I did to nurse myself in the last 4 weeks. I’ll likely share at some point. I will share today that boosting my immune system through supplements and minerals, and listening to my body and what foods it was craving, helped. Lots of magnesium-rich foods and protein. I ordered 5 large bags of nuts, at different times, while I was not feeling well. Didn’t readily recognize I’d ordered that many nuts! Nutty, me! Much love, Sam

Watched the entire Season 3 of Stranger Things yesterday with J David Hall. As an autistic, I so much appreciate the humor, parallel plots, and the detailed settings.

April 7th:

Crushing chest pain, shortness of breath, fatigue, came back Monday morning. Really wish this thing would pass. Lots of brainless reality television for me, as I lie flat on my back. Even so, thankful for so much — like a comfy couch and Internet and popcorn. And for my work partner Carrie  picking up the slack! Much love to Heather, another work team member, who I’m sending extra warm fuzzies to, during these hard times.

April 8th:

Thank you for the encouraging thread. It was very validating.

I’ve been following my intuition, since I got sick over 4 weeks ago. I was doing better for a couple days and then had a relapse with shortness of breath, shallow breathing, crushing chest pain, and fatigue returning.

Some of the information that was posted in the thread below this (on m Facebook wall) by community members (thank you), confirmed I am doing many things that are recommended.

When I stopped doing most of these things listed below, as it was over three weeks and I was gaining ground (on Sunday), by Monday I regressed. I am back to my routine again.

1. I only took one Tylenol at the start and did not take any other over the counter pain killers, to let my body have a natural temperature and to not suppress my immune system, nor tax my liver or kidneys.

2. I take a deep breath of outdoor fresh air, and vitamin C and vitamin D, when I wake up, and repeat the C twice more in the day.

3. I take zinc.

4. I ordered an extra nebulizer (for my asthma) 4 weeks ago, thinking there would be a high demand. And I use it daily, as needed. I think I will use it a bit more, as a preventative.

5. I shower at least once a day for steam and to cleanse my body.

6. At night I brush my teeth and gargle and apply tea tree oil on my nostrils.

7. I sit up and if chest pain gets severe, I walk around house. (I will now do the suggested arm stretches above head and deep inhales.) Yesterday, I was flat on my back and it made it worse.

8. When it was at it’s peek, I sat up in bed and slept sitting up (with a rosary), intuitively feeling it would less likely settle in my lungs if I was upright.

9. I am using essential oils on chest to help with breathing.

10. I warm up a heating pad a few times a day and place it directly on my chest.

11. I start the day by opening windows in house and bringing in fresh air.

12. I don’t want to tax my liver, so I alternate different supplements and minerals. I have Elderberry, magnesium, fish oil, and more. I have used peppermint gel pills for tummy ache.

13. I drink hot coffee in the morning with oat milk and honey. I drink hot decaf herbal tea throughout the day. If my lungs feel constricted, I have green tea.

14. I mix turmeric with water and drink.

15. My body is rejecting dairy at the moment; so I’ve cut most of it out. It can tolerate butter.

16. I have been listening to my body’s cravings. It has been all foods with high magnesium, such as nuts, bananas, dark leafy greens, organic dark chocolate. And high protein. As I don’t eat meat, I’ve been upping my fish intake.

17. I believe there is a sex hormone link to the virus (I wrote a blog post on this) and have been craving and upping my intake of tofu.

18. I will start sitting and standing up more and sleeping less and rest on my stomach. Sunday night and Monday night I had trouble staying or falling asleep. Tuesday night, when I got a full night’s sleep, I felt worse.

April 9th:

Update:

We believe a virus triggered my POTS, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (ribs easily slip out of place), Stage-4 Endometriosis, and asthma. Won’t know if it’s Covid-19, until tests are widely available and risk of leaving home is decreased. This is week 5 of sheltering in place and being unwell. I start to get some relief and then the pain comes back.

Doing better today. Less dry cough and less shortness of breath. Got a break from crushing chest pain this afternoon. Yay! I have not had mucus. Yesterday morning was scary, as I awoke feeling like I was breathing through a sheet. My inhaler helps.

Lovely sunshine in the Pacific Northwest. Grabbing my outdoor vitamin D amongst the birdies bathing and flying about in our front yard. The fresh air and bright blue sky helps pain levels and mood.

My former husband, Bob, and I spoke on the phone, and he was thankful that he found some face masks in his bathroom– masks that I’d purchased many years back!

I am fortunate in that I have a lot of sick days and vacation time saved up, and Ultranauts Inc. is offering Covid-19 sick days, including for anxiety related to the virus outbreak. Also, my work with recruiting and neurodiversity outreach aren’t a necessity at this time.

This time at home has confirmed that I am right where I want to be. I adore David to no end, and he treats me extremely well, with the upmost respect. I love my sons, dearly. I am not upset in the least with all the canceled trips and appearances. Extremely thankful for the simple things. I do get emotional and cry when I think of all the suffering in the world. I have a strong faith and hope that we will all get through this.

Wherever you are, I hope you are well. Please take care of yourself. Thank you for the community connection. Keeping you in my thoughts.

Kind regards,
Sam

April 10th

Status:

Thanks everyone for your comments. I took them to heart and into consideration. Today I am about the same. POTS is a bit worse.

I was able to type a document today. Fairly certain I am experiencing chest pain (as in the past) from slipped ribs from Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and crushing chest pressure from POTS flare up, breathing issues from asthma, digestive issues/neuropathy from POTS.

I don’t feel like the breathing issues are getting any worse or due to a virus growing. It’s been 5 weeks and I think I’d be far worse by now, if that were the case. Instead I seem to be about the same, get a little better, have a set back, then return to about the same. Dairy remains a huge upset to my system.

My fluctuation in hormones (being 51) isn’t helping matters, as the asthma and chronic health conditions are affected.

Our best, educated guess is I caught a virus that triggered everything, and now need to work through the chronic pain flare ups to get back to equilibrium.

Ongoing (for months) emotional stress from a source I cannot control (that I won’t get into for privacy reasons) is not helping. But we are working through with a supportive professional, and that is helping tremendously with the issue.

Feel free to let me know how you and yours are doing below. Wishing you, as always, the very best. Thanks for being you. Stay safe.

Kind regards,

Sam

April 14th

Update:

Lovely sunshine this week in Olympia, Washington, USA. I am working remotely, about 1 to 2 hours a day, and resting the remainder of the day. I had a 50-minute phone call with work team yesterday, which resulted in a 2 hour nap. So still have a way to go with energy levels. I am able to do about 30 minutes of chores/tasks at home each day. Lots of fatigue, but my chest and back pain are decreasing. Sleeping better. I have to limit executive functioning tasks, as I am finding it hard to do things such as turning on computer, paying bills, opening mail, etc. My oxygen saturation level was 99% on Saturday and shortness of breath is less frequent. Resting pulse is elevated, from POTS. Digestion improving! Thank goodness. Less nightmares. Home is peaceful. David is extremely supportive. Violet (dog) is still neurotic as ever, and David has made up a new (not-so-kind) nickname for her. Baha!

I hope you are safe and well. Much love.

Best,
Sam

 

Everyday Aspergers: THE BOOK

I invite you to take a look inside of my book Everyday Aspergers.

Take a look here.

(I just deleted an entire paragraph explaining why I am uncomfortable with self-promotion. I’ll spare you the details!)

My publisher, Your Stories Matter, took great care to provide this ‘book-to-look’ version of the second edition of Everyday Aspergers.

(I’ve truly failed at promoting my own book. I usually promote Steve Silberman’s book in my travels and teachings. Typical me!)

Over a year ago, I decided to move my memoir from one agency to another. I made this decision to ensure the paperback was available outside of the USA. Here are ten facts you might not know about E.A.

The second edition of Everyday Aspergers : A Journey on the Autism Spectrum can be purchased on Amazon in several countries. It makes a great gift!

The new book cover is by a talented autistic author and writer. The pages, of the new edition, have photos and images from my childhood. I added a new end chapter. The layout, pages, and style are different. It’s the same story in an enhanced casing.

https://www.book2look.com/book/KRksrIxTxr

My three sons and me in 2018.

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It’s All About the Ovaries (Second Edition of Everyday Aspergers: Part One)

So, I’ve been procrastinating on this post since December 2018.

I’ve analyzed why and have come up short. It’s likely that I don’t care much for self-promotion. Indeed, in the last 6+ years I can count on one hand how many times I’ve asked folks to share about my Everyday Aspergers Facebook page. (And that counts the mention here!) If you haven’t checked it out, please do.

I could blame my procrastination on the countdown to menopause, which I hope and pray arrives tomorrow, as I’ve been dealing with the complexity of endometriosis for years, including the 2018 road traveled of chocolate cysts. Don’t let the name fool you; it’s all about the blood. And now that I’ve over-shared, I will switch gears.

 

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Recently, I’ve had a profound peace — could be hormones shifting and my lady parts semi-retiring — could not. (Oops, focus Sam!) I’d like to think it’s something to do with my faith and spirit. It’s likely a combination of coffee, getting older, and finally getting fed up with not speaking up for myself and finally understanding boundaries! That, and I do feel the presence of an angelic spirit. But that’s another story.

Not much has changed (with my brain) in the past years, since I started writing Everyday Aspergers. Which now has over 1.4 million hits! Well, yes, some of the reason behind the high ‘hit’ number is because there are over 500 posts! Omgosh — write much?

My point being, I still digress to a close-to-annoying degree.

That’s likely why I typically get called to interview for a job, based on my awesome resume, skills, and experience, but don’t seem to ever get the job! (In fact, I don’t even get a rejection letter — just GHOSTED.) Picture me bungee jumping off a high cliff of ‘tell us a bit about yourself,’ and swirling in rapid circles, giggling like I’m twelve, raising my voice in high pitch, fidgeting about, announcing how proud I am to have ASPERGERS, and then correcting myself: “I mean to be on the autism spectrum.”

I leave an interview feeling like I either nailed it and they absolutely LOVED me, and want to be my best friend, or convinced I terrified the living daylights out of them. It’s likely the latter. As I mentioned: I don’t ever hear back. Thank the lord for my job at ultratesting.us, where being neurodivergent is the norm! Thank my lucky stars. (< Madonna video)

Ironically, I have studied 1000s of hours of best hiring practices for my vocation, and can’t seem to keep my Aspie-ness in a bag when under distress at an interview. There must be a pill I can take. (Now picturing Violet in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and now must Google to find an image.) “. .  . because Charlie she’s a nitwit.” Not to say I’m a nitwit.

 

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Okay, alas the REAL point of this post is to tell you THE SECOND EDITION OF EVERYDAY ASPERGERS IS HERE! And it’s now available in paperback in many countries. Check out Amazon or ask your local library to see if they can order it. Look at the PRETTY cover by an autistic artist (and my friend and colleague)!

USA amazon

UK amazon

AU amazon

10 Facts You May Not Know About the Book Everyday Aspergers

Are we friends yet? (Facebook link)

 

Okay … done! Although, I don’t think this is what my publisher had in mind.  (scan down for more.)

 

 

On a side note, I will speak to you as if you and I are in a cafe, and I’m catching you up with my medical stories. Sorry for the monologue, and the white-haired man sitting kitty-corner to us that is blushing because I am talking too loud.

This here ^^  … that’s an image of a chocolate cyst. Funny story … after an ultrasound in early 2018, when I found out I had at least one chocolate cyst, (and had gone to the emergency room in excruciating pain, and was curled up on couch most days for weeks) in typical Sammy-fashion, I researched with hyper-focus about the chocolate cysts and implemented some home treatments — including essential oil, strict dietary change, etc.

When I returned months later for a follow-up ultrasound, the technician confirmed indeed the cysts presented (3 of them) exactly like ‘chocolate’ cysts! Immediately following, (literally a few steps down the hall), my OBGYN doc informs me, “The cysts are shrinking, and that doesn’t happen with chocolate cysts, so we can’t call them that anymore. They don’t shrink.”

I was dumbfounded.

Surely, in some cases they can? And I’d done so much, including talking to my body, to ensure healing.

My scrunched up face demonstrated I was confused, as I asked in a high-pitched voice, that no longer suits my age: “Well, what would we call them if they weren’t shrinking?”

She responded, “Oh, definitely chocolate cysts.”

I then got that familiar feeling in my gut that means ‘NO ONE on this planet is truly an expert in anything and most of the time professionals are talking out their donkey.’

(“vulgar slang To say foolish things; to talk of nonsense. Don’t pay Jonathan any mind, Mary, he’s just talking out his ass again.”)

The next time I went back in for a check up, with said Doc, she informs that my chocolate cysts are shrinking or stabilized.

So I guess we are back to calling them that?

Anyhow, it reminds me of the time I had a dead front tooth, when I was in my early 20s, and I went to a dentist that a colleague had suggested I see. It was 1992, a sunny day. The dentist’s recommendation for my dead tooth’s discoloring was to darken all my teeth to match!!! Yes, that’s right. And, noooo, I did not!

I have trouble believing this actually transpired, especially after I told my dental hygienist the story yesterday, and she said that’s the worst telling she has heard to date. Also, because decades have past with my pretty veneer tooth. (The other dentist I saw bleached all my teeth to match the new veneer. Yin and Yang. Dark and Light. Theme of my life.)

(On another side note: I found out this week I have no cavities and an unusually small mouth [which matches my usually small head]. And I warned the dental hygienist not to say she has a small mouth despite what her husband says, because that can be interpreted in different ways.

She was appreciative, and said, “We’re going to get along just fine.”

I always find it to be an interesting phenomenon when I give out unsolicited advice to non-autistics about social graces.)

Needless to say, I never went back to that dentist who wanted to darken my teeth! But the young, inexperienced (terrified) me did shake hysterically in her car afterward. The same way I shook after seeing a ‘specialist’ a few years back.

That time a doctor would diagnose me with ‘a close cousin to POTS syndrome,’ (as my blood pressure acted a bit different from typical POTS, but the tilt table test confirmed the condition.)

This was after 5 ER visits wherein my pulse would go to 160 upon standing, wherein the IV would add sodium to my blood, and remedy the POTS-like reaction, making me seem better; only to be sent home and the symptoms to come back (160 upon standing, weak, shaking, etc.); only for me to return to the ER and be told I must be inventing it for attention.

Yes, hysteria is still widely falsely the diagnosis for women! No wonder I have white-coat syndrome.

Fortunately, my then-husband Bob (now-good friend) was in the patient room with the ‘specialist’ (notice the quotes) and me, when the Doc told me my diagnosis and prescribed an exact treatment plan, e.g, constricting stockings, raise bed, exercise regime, salt intake, etc.

A year later, I came back, feeling super pleased I’d followed the Doc’s directions, and was able to sit up for long periods of time, and return to life as normal (well atypical normal). BUT THEN . . . she SCOLDED me, accusing me of making my condition up, and saying I didn’t have POTS, and didn’t have to do all that. That I wasted my money on salt pills and where did I get the idea I had POTS?

I had to phone my ex-hubby from the car to avoid a nervous breakdown; literally thought I was losing my mind, until I realized the doctor was …

(Scan down for book reviews.)

So . . . I likely should write another post soon that is more about the book. I will. I think. Can’t wait to see what pops out of LV’s mouth then! Sir Brain is shaking his head in shame. (He doesn’t have ovaries.)

Samantha Craft’s Updates August 2016

last updated August 2018

You can find me at Spectrum Suite LLC  and email me directly at marcellelinn @ icloud . com. Spectrum Suite will soon be offering vocational coaching, life coaching, and spiritual coaching. Stay tuned!

Thank you for your support through the years. I couldn’t have wished for a kinder and more accepting community.

This blog was open from 2012 – 2016. I make updates from time to time with new news.

Sam’s other blog can be found at Everyday Aspie.

Both blogs are retired, after many years of writing, except for occasional updates about happenings related to autism, the autistic community, and the book Everyday Aspergers.

New book I contributed to here

BOOK INFORMATION
· Amazon US link
· Amazon UK link
· Amazon Australia link
The soft back version is available in USA on Amazon here.
Current updates can be found at my company Spectrum Suite.
Please consider posting a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

THANK YOU ~ SAM

Marcie Ciampi, M.Ed   (AKA: Samantha Craft)

Craft is best known for her prolific writings found in her well received book and blog Everyday Aspergers. A professional educator, she has been published in peer-reviewed journals, been featured in various literature and venues, including Aspien Women, Autism Parenting Magazine, The Mighty,  Spectrum Women, Project Aspie and Different Brains.  She is coauthor of the book Spectrum Women: Walking to the Beat of Autism and speaks on the topic of neurodiversity around the world, including at the Love & Autism Conference (Fall 2018) and Southwest Washington Autism Conference (Fall 2018).

Craft was the Community Achievement Award recipient at the ANCA World Autism Festival (2017), her works have been translated into multiple languages, with her list of traits for females on the autism spectrum shared in counseling offices around the world. Since 2012, she’s had the opportunity to correspond with over 10,000 individuals on the autism spectrum. Her blog Belly of a Star features her paintings and drawings and over 100 poems and spiritual writings. Craft also serves as the Lead Job Recruiter and Community Manager at ULTRA Testing, an innovative technology company with a neurodiversity hiring initiative.

Samantha Craft’s New Book!

Lost and Found

If you have been researching autism, especially female autism, for any length of time you have no doubt come across Samantha Craft’s blog, Everyday Aspergers. Her soul bared, posts are both whimsical and down-to-earth real. Sam has everything from helpful lists (because, come on, you know we love lists) of female Aspie traits, to sensitive, thoughtful poetry, to personal anecdotes from her life experience. It is all engaging and enlightening and comforting and validating for those of us seeking to recognize ourselves, our differences, in someone else. To know we’re not alone.

Sam’s beautiful book is available now from Booklogix for those in the US and will be available July 1st on Amazon. It will also soon be available internationally through Amazon.

LIB6735_C_AD_FINALThrough 150 telling journal entries, Samantha Craft presents a life of humorous faux pas, profound insights, and the everyday adventures of a female with Asperger’s Syndrome. A former schoolteacher and…

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