identity

Post 244: This is how it goes

| Aspergers Girls

I think of blogging several times throughout my day.

I am processing much. Particularly where I’ve traveled since starting this writing journey.

I feel I’m at a crossroad, where I’ve healed enough in myself to start sharing more about my coping strategies (yay!), with less of a need to mentally and emotionally spill and reflect. I’m trusting in this process and the timing, and am excited to see what will arise.

Thank you for being here.

I am a bit behind on answering comments. I’ve been continuing to focus on balance in my life, and taking care of my needs and my family’s needs. Comments are always appreciated and read with love. Not answering every comment is growth for me. However, I do intend to go back and answer the more urgent questions.

I’ve had to release some guilt, slowly. I was reading over fifty blogs when I first started. My life was blogging for several months. Everything else took a backseat. Now that I’ve regained balance, I haven’t felt the desire to read blogs. I still love the people I connect and connected with through blogging, and hold them in thought many, many times each day. If you are one of the people who blogs and we share(d) a connection, know you still hold a HUGE place in my heart, and that I am at a new place on my path at the moment. Know you are loved and held in high regard. I have a facebook page listed atop this blog; please feel free to friend me.

I will continue to write at Everyday Asperger’s, but only when I feel called to do so, and am able to remain balanced in all aspects of my life.

I am for the most part truly, truly happy and at peace with who I am and my calling in life. I think this is reflected in my eyes and smile. I know it is reflected in my energy.

I am doing better with my health.

I have discovered coffee has giving me much more energy (who would have thought–wink-wink) and the ability to lift my mood. I read in a study (laughing to myself, as I seem to like to read studies, and know that studies are contradictory, often funded by money-hounds, and certainly ever-changing and debatable..but tossing all that aside)… I read in a study that 20% of people can cure depression through coffee; I’ve excepted (darn homophone)…I’ve accepted, I either am the 20% or I made this fact a truth in my life!

The downfall: Coffee does make me organize and reorganize and reorganize. I think I’ve cleaned and reorganized my bathroom medicine cabinet four times now. And, I tend to ramble and talk more, with caffeine. However, the substance is working wonders for my mind and pain-relief; so I’ll take a little organizing-OCD-bug.

Also, I have decided I am allergic to all earth food, beyond coffee (cream and sugar) and dark chocolate…oh and water. Because, as soon as I eat anything, I become instantly depressed, insecure, nervous, fatigued and in pain. I spend my “eatless” mornings and “eatless” afternoons very productive and content, knowing once I eat, I will likely have to rest on the couch and fight off negative thoughts and pain. (I like the word eatless, but don’t try to text the word because auto-spell-correct can see only “earless.”)

I’m back to processing what I look like. hmmmmm?

Today the following thoughts are on my mind…well at least for twenty minutes they were. I think I’ve had about forty other subjects pop up since opening this document to write….coffee again.

This is how it goes.

This is how it goes. I dream of my liver, that my liver is damaged, that I need to go to the doctor and get tests.  I wake up knowing I’m fine, but feeling the dread of upcoming tests. Someone else’s feelings are with me.

Two days later, a relative called and has to go in for liver tests.

The dream makes sense.

This is how it goes. I have a thought of giving coats to school. I have a bag of coats in my closet that are too small for my son. All day I think of whom to give the coats to. It’s like a moving picture in my mind. Whom to ask? The thought keeps circling.

Hours later, my son comes home from school with a note about families in need of clothing and other items.

The thoughts stop.

This is how it goes. I wake up at 4:45 am with thoughts and cannot get back to bed. I look in the mirror and have a bite on my cheek. My mind spins. I keep thinking of the butterfly rash that accompanies the auto-immune condition lupus. I know I do not have lupus, but I can’t stop checking my cheek in the mirror. I can only think of lupus. I can only think to check.

Soon, my good friend calls. She was up most the night. Her doctor just called to say she has lupus.

The crying starts.

This is how it goes. I wake up with dread, with unexplained fear. I am worried. Something is going to happen.

That day a friend has a breakdown. Instantly my dread is gone and I am better.

The relief comes.

This is how it goes. I haven’t been to a particular store in months; no interest, no want. A voice inside says, “Go today. Go today.” I fight the voice. The voice still comes. “Just go. Only for fifteen minutes. Just go.” I drive.

I arrive to find the dresser I’ve been visualizing in my mind for the past couple months. The exact antique dresser I’ve wanted for my room at the Goodwill for only $40. Mint condition. Lovely. The entire transaction from finding the dresser, paying for dresser, and helpers placing dresser in trunk of van takes exactly fifteen minutes.

The joy comes.

This is how it goes.

**********************************************

The past few days I’ve been analyzing actresses on television and how their hair affects the way they look. Somewhere in my head, I got stuck with the thought that if I don’t look nice in every photo I take, then I truly look like the ugliest photo.

I mean, wouldn’t it be nice to be narcissistic for one day, and believe I always look like the best photo? But NO, my little brain thinks I MUST look like the worse photo. Of course, this is the same brain, who somewhere along the road, gathered the baggage that if I don’t look beautiful with my hair unbrushed, makeup off, and in frumpy, stained clothes, then I am not naturally beautiful. The same mind that played tricks on me and told me that if I wear make up and fix my hair up and take a nice photo that that is a lie, and fake, and not the real me to begin with. So if someone gives me a compliment, while I’m fake, then the compliment is not real either! The same brain that told me all these years that when someone tells me I’m beautiful or pretty that he or she is just saying that because truthfully I’m hideous and they are trying to lift my spirits. That, in truth, the entire world is in a conspiracy to make me think I’m lovely, because in truth when they look at me they feel sorry for me. OH, MY GOSH! Growth, growth, growth.

My son took a photo of me with his new camera today. For the first time, I thought logical thoughts upon seeing a photo of myself. I heard this in my head: “Oh, I have a triple-chin because he is little and taking the photo from down low. I look different in all angles and lighting. This is not a true reflection of me.”

Much better than my standard: “Oh no! I can never leave the house again. I am a triple-chinned monster and everyone is pretending not to see it!”

Here is something I did for fun:

First photo is a few minutes before the other photo.

Between the photos, I simply put on a sweater, eye makeup, and lipstick. Hair behind ears, head tilted different direction.

I really am fascinated with how lighting, clothes, hairstyle, and makeup affects photos.

Oh…and Yes…for those of you joining, this ENTIRE blog is about my vanity and ego….giggles

Before photo. No make up.
A few minutes later.

Now, of these three photos which one is the real me?

Answer: All of them!

I am like a flower. Different in all angles, all lighting, and in each season; whether the season is a day, month, or life. God Bless all the me’s and all the you’s. xoxo ~ Sam

I almost forgot…here’s the dresser:

Day 179: Paste Me to the Moon

| Aspergers Girls

Photographs of State Park in Washington (July 2012)

I am lost for words today. A woman in a forest of thoughts and mystery, both intrigued and frightened by her own mind.

I am between two rivers, two streams of thought, of how I am to be and what I want to be.

I question my every need, my every desire, my unyielding passion. And yet I know I am pure. I know I am enough. But I wonder where to turn in my mind. Where to stop. Where the boundaries are…when thoughts are exhausted and nothing else exists.

I only want to be loved. I only long to give love. But why do I long? Where does the longing rise from? Where is the switch? This knowing? This intensity? Where is this me that calls from beneath the shadows?

I measure everything. I place abstractness on scales. My actions are spared, as my thoughts have been filtered through and through, weighed out, analyzed, scrutinized…my actions don’t have a chance…they are absent…missing…vapors evaporating before they breathe.

Where do I travel? Where do I go? Why am I a lone wanderer on a planet that does not feel familiar and in a body and form I do not recognize? Why can I see others more clearly than my own self? And where do I stand? If I do not follow and do not lead, then where is my place in line?

Where is my reflection? Where do I find me. I cannot see me except through the eyes of another, and still this perception is so broken and shattered. And in my own mirror, I do not know this me. Everything in physical is not me. Every angle different and obscure. If I am not what I see and not what another sees, then what am I?

Am I my words? These symbols? These sounds? Am I energy? Am I flesh? Am I this still beating heart? Or am I more so this ache, this deep and unreachable ache. Yes, I am this ache. I am in totality this intense  ache.

So where to put me, this angst, this invisible pull that spins me into unwanted need and unneeded want. Where to put me?

Perhaps to the moon. Fly me to the moon, so I may be made whole. So that I may exist as an unmistakable mass dancing in empty space. My purpose only to move and stir. Paste me there. My image melted into one form. This searching ended. Paste me to the moon, so that I may watch from above and you may watch from below; and then we can both, from where we exist, imagine the world of the image before us.

Day 146: Erotic Lentils

| Aspergers Girls

“Do not seek enlightenment unless you seek it as a man whose hair is on fire seeks a pond.” – Sri Ramakrishna

“I will not tiptoe through life only to arrive safely at death’s door.” – author unknown

I have like 4 or 5 water signs in my astrological chart…hmmmm.

I am just beginning to be amazed by the many facets of Samantha Craft. One day deep philosopher writing words she doesn’t quite grasp, the next soulful author pouring out healing truths from the roads of childhood, later a poet easing an over-flowing heart, and then back to the unyielding sex goddess emerging from used up prude-nun from past life. The loins! The loins!

Wow! My husband is a patient man. Of course, he does get that sex goddess… Did I mention he is doing a lot more chores around the house without a whisper of remorse?

I keep thinking I am going to wake up and magically transform back into the person I was five months ago. Though I don’t think her vessel would fit this wild blossoming spirit. I’d surely burst out within minutes, leaving the old shell scattered and forever broken.

The world seems to be getting even more passionate, appealing, and ravenous by the day. If I have any challenge at all, in the spiritual sense, it’s the intensity of not wanting to run out of time on this glorious playground of planet earth. Just today, after walking in the sunshine, yes sunshine, while at the farmer’s market sipping lentil soup and listening to a flute player, I was just so gosh-dang giddy about living. And it’s not because things are going “well” in the humanistic sense. Really, if I got down to it, I could play you a sad song about my life to make you weep out yesterday’s coffee from your eyes. Seriously. I’ve got a laundry list of grievances I could lay down right now at your feet.

So my overwhelming sensation of joy isn’t because all is well. Not that type of sensation at all. Quite the opposite. I know all is not well; but I’m well in this knowing.

Sipping my lentils from a cup was purely divine erotica. The swirls of liquid brown, the small melted beans, the little onions—I took twenty minutes to sip my small cup of soup!!! I didn’t want the experience to end. It was so sexy and sensual.

Today was one of those days I would have danced in a water fountain, or pierced my bellybutton, or gotten a tongue stud, or kissed a stranger. It was one of those days that felt like Christmas morning.

You know what? I am very much amazed by how many people take walks and complain about life. I honestly don’t know what I would talk about, if I had a walking partner. I suppose I could say: “Look how that leaf is so very green. Look how it dances!” or “Look at that duck. Watch him dunk. See the ripples on the water. Oh the water!” And then stop myself from screaming in ecstasy…Oh, the water! Oh, the water! Not really…but close.

Perhaps I could talk to a walking mate like I talk to my little dog, that I now tie with her red leash to my pant loop so she can stride along my side and I can swing my hands high in the air. We are quite the pair. Her with her Groucho Marx eyebrows and me with my radiating smile. People don’t quite know what to make of us. I imagine they think we’re a bit too cheery to be real. But we are. We are real. And cheery.

I talk to her about things, my little dog. And she listens with a cock of her head, looking up like she knows she is special. And I look down, like I know I am special. And she moves her little legs super fast, and I move my bigger legs super slow, and we walk and walk in the beauty of the world.

I say things to her like: “Look at the water! Isn’t it lovely?” And I lift her so she can see. And then later I wait as she sniffs a butt or two. And I wonder why humans don’t run up to each other so happily, like pups. And then I think maybe that’s my next step. Maybe I’m going to be one of those ladies running up to random people and offering hugs!!!!  Not butt sniffs….not there, yet. But maybe next month.

I can’t wait to see how I will be tomorrow. I truly am a surprise a minute. So entertaining and full of life, and sometimes other stuff too, but nonetheless full and unpredictable. My husband seems to be falling in love with me, perhaps for the first time, as I am actually me for the first time, at least in my adult years. I think for him he’s woken up to a new partner all together. And I’ve woken up to a new me all together. Not improved or better or different, more so rebirthed. And in no way perfect, just entirely unpredictable in nature, mood, and words, and no longer willing to ever, ever tiptoe through life again.

If I am insane, I’m even cool with that. If I am awakened, I won’t say that, seems so silly to say such a thing. We’re all awake! Just some of us keep hitting the snooze button and falling back to sleep for a spell.

Erotic Lentils

I am entangled in your simmering sweetness

Diving into you speck by speck

The heat savored by tongue

Morsels licked up like lollipops

Pick me a flavor

More divinely set for my taste

Pick me a lover

More satisfying

Than the empty bowl from which I drank

The sprinkles left inside me now

A curried-sunset within ocean’s shimmer

To nibble fondly in every direction

Into the inner depths

Through which

You have so easily crept

Sam Craft

[

“Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.” ~ Groucho Marx

Day 140: Closer to Sexy

| Aspergers Girls

Okay. New followers will likely think I’m a bit odd, but that’s okay. They haven’t read A Body of True Confessions, My Aching Loins, or Prude to Sexy, Yet. So they are likely thinking all types of thoughts. Truth is, I’ve really broken out of my shell.

Photos removed since original post. See links above for more information. 🙂

I don’t even recognize me!  I’m wearing my after glow from having kayaked yesterday for the first time, my Maui tan from May, and the confidence I had when I was a kid. Yay, me!

Prude to Sexy Check Off List:

Check…..Guitar purchased

Check…..First Kayak experience (1.5 hours)

Check….Kayak paddle purchased

Check….Closer and closer to buying a bikini

 

Oh, and I got a really cute pedicure today. See? This was not an easy shot to take. Trust me!

Toes on Camera

Thanks for following the journey!  

Day 128: Prude to Sexy

| Aspergers Girls

Now, I hope you do all know that I have Aspergers. With Aspergers sometimes comes this naive spirit (in a wonderful way) and sometimes (in my case: often times) a tendency to not understand sexual connotations. Well, luckily I ran this post by someone (my husband). He kindly pointed out that having the topic, learning to self-massage, as one of my It List’s items might be a little risqué. I didn’t understand why learning to massage my hands and feet with lotion would be inappropriate.

When I was still a youngster, in my early twenties, my mother took me to see her psychic. I was told that I would first have two children, much like twins, and everyone would think they were twins at first—this happened. I was told that I would live to be 86 and that at the half-point (age 43) my life would shift and be happier—happening (at least the age 43 happy part). I was also told that I was a French nun in my past life and brought a lot of that mindset to this lifetime, and carried around a bunch of Catholic guilt and felt I was always sinning with my very thoughts! SO NOT HAPPENING anymore….

I’ve been a prude for the first half of my life. For the second half, I’m going to be sexy. Of course last year at this time, I was going to be a Buddhist monk, and was seriously considering growing my hair out all grey, never ever wearing makeup again, and going braless. So, really, we don’t know what to expect from me. As you can tell by looking over my last two posts, where I went from exceedingly on top of all the universes, to basically, and literally, cry me a river.

But, despite my track record, I’d thought I’d give this sexy thing a shot, and at least make a list, since I love lists anyhow. And thusly, I’ve included my ten goals for the next eight months, that leads us into February 2013, and day 366 (leap year, remember).

 

Prude to SEXY!

My IT List for Sexy

The High SEXY boots

1. High Boots. A must. With a short skirt and leggings, and a powerful cat walk.

A small sexy ankle tattoo. Perhaps a tiny sun or a tiger symbol.

2. Must have a small, sexy ankle tattoo. A permanent stamp that says the prude is gone and to banish the nun in me.

3. Study sexy action. Study sexy poses, sexy movies, and  sexy singing.

kimdehaan.wordpress.com

4. Classic Guitar and Lessons. Preferably taught by a dark, gorgeous hunk of burning love.

5. Bikini on the beach. Yes, bikini.

Maui 2012

6.  Lots and lots of submerging in water. River walking. Hit the beach. Swim in the pool. Soak in hot tub. Go to hot springs. Bubble baths.

kayakingtours.com

7. Kayaking tour and buying a kayak and wetsuit.

wikipedia.org

8. Belly dancing in this dress. Ooh la la!

Where I walk in Washington State

9. Nature

Trees and more trees. And hugging trees. Hiking. State parks. Forests. Resting on the grass by the lake. Sitting on the bench and watching the birds. Breathing in the air. Breathing.

kundalinishaktidance.com/

10. Kundalini Yoga

Got to keep the second chakra fed, or I’ll never pose for that photo of me at the water’s edge, posing sexy in a bikini, donning a belly pierce and one high boot, with the other foot bare, as to show of my ankle tattoo, all while strumming a guitar in a kayak and mouthing “I love you.”

Woke up to this today.  This music is SEXY, too.