thoughts

Day 213: Lost in my Mind

| Aspergers Girls

 

I have this person inside of me who is a judge, a stern judge, who questions and
reasons continually. He or she, or whatever it be, is relentless in their
search for truth, even when I plead that there is no truth. This entity
scrutinizes everything and everyone, even as I sit back from behind and shout
for him to stop. It as if he must dissect and find connections to
make sense of what he sees. As if my world is not enough and must be recreated
and categorized.

Nothing is easy for him. Nothing simple. Nothing plain. All is
complex. Even the eyes of a stranger are a deep hollow tunnel to dive into and
explore, to be lost from a near glance, and come out unquenched, only to dive
in again and again, to find nothing but the same. To feel depleted at every
turn because the answers don’t come readily, and when they do come they lead to
more questions.

It is an exhausting ride with no end. There is no coming up
without diving back down. There is no stopping. My mind is that rollercoaster
where the hands are up and you are screaming in glee, and then the turn comes
that makes you queasy, or the fear sets in, or the wheel make the sound that
pierces the ears, and you want to get off, you don’t want to ride again and again,
but you can’t get off, not because the belt is buckled, not because the wind is
fast and you face is slapping against it, only because you have forgotten you
are on the ride, and keep spinning round and upside down with no way to leave
what you don’t know you are on.

I can’t explain it. It is too complex and deep, and a mystery to me. I can see a forest, and getting lost in a forest, only to
awake and see that you are in a forest fast asleep dreaming of another forest,
but you are standing watching yourself sleep. It is a complexity so intense
that I am lost in my own world.

I don’t understand why others don’t see things
as I do, at least most others. How they can round a corner and think of nothing
but rounding a corner. How they can focus in a conversation and not feel and hear
and sense the thousand other things happening. What of the dust particles in
the air. The ticking clock. The grime on the couch. The fibers of the carpet
bent. The voice in the head rambling about woes. The tingling of skin. The
thoughts of the next word, and how the word carries a thousand different
meanings.

How can you talk to me and use these words when each word carries
this potential energy and meaning. Don’t you worry that I don’t understand you
exactly? Can’t you see we are not even communicating, really. That what you
sense and experience is not what you are conveying directly with words. That
what you are, whom you are is this huge collaboration of the way your body
moves, the way your eyes search, the sound of your voice, the pitch, the volume,
the breath, the sigh, the everything. How can I sit and be with you, when you
are communicating to me a fleet of ships in just one syllable, and all you
think I see is a row boat on the shore. No, you are a myriad of images.

I am a
vessel that collects, with every sound spoken and every thought unspoken, I
sense you with a sense I cannot pinpoint. I know you more than you think,
perhaps more than you know yourself. I can sense your sorrow, your insecurity,
your worry, your lies—the way you lie to yourself and corner yourself. I can
understand the depths of you while you remain on the outskirts in the shallow,
I swim in your deep.

And thusly, I do the same with me. I dance inside myself,
but not with joy, but in this tangled intertwined string, all twisted and
distorted, unable to tell one feeling from the other, because I am bombarded
all at once with experience upon experience.

To you a doorbell is a doorbell. A sound. An announcement. A door to be opened. To me a doorbell is a lion. A
ringing warning of what’s beyond, the thousand upon thousand possibilities of
one sound, one notion, one voice.

No, when you speak to me I do not hear your
words, I see your journey, I see your past, I feel your pain, I feel your joy. You come carrying the grand gift of you, wrapped and rewrapped, and hidden, and
haunted with ghosts, and you expect me to sit and take the crumb of you, the
one piece, when I see the monster lurching behind, the one that guards your
secrets. And he sees me. And he hungers after me, because he knows I can see
your treasures and truth. And out he comes to attack, to protect, to steal my
gifts. For he is fear’s gatekeeper, and I am fear’s mistress joy, and I wish
nothing but to help you see the beauty within.

I am stung by the wasps of you.
I am stung each time we talk, each time our eyes meet. For I can see you swarming
with truths you dare not whisper. I can see the bees behind you. Each carrying
a part of you, and yet you present yourself as single flower, and want me to
simply sniff and be gone.

How can I walk in this world when everywhere are
these bees, this noise, this stinging, whilst everyone pretends the flowers are
falling from the sky. How can I show you what I see when your eyes can only
reach to the horizon, and mine dig deep into the ocean sky, and swim beyond the
universe into you. I sense your depth. I sense your deep. I know you so well,
as reflection of me.

I know where demons hide and shadows and dark. I know
where light dances. I know the journey within the journey, but I am left to
smile shallow and speak a whisper. To bypass all the stories you carry and
wonder if by chance we shall meet again and you will let me swallow what is you,
so I may feed off of your loneliness and become one with myself.

Can you not see
we dance in isolation, this game of communication? Can you not see me standing
at the wall waiting for your hand? Can you not see we do not have this time,
this patience, this waiting. Now is now, and if you do not bleed for me, if you
do not purge yourself and throw up upon me, then I am left to drown in your
mire, fending for myself, while you walk blindly to your ways.

You bombard me
without knowing. You crush me. You crash upon me with your energy. You paint me
with your past, your future, your present, and your worries. You feed off of
me. You eat what you want and leave, all the while thinking you have merely
said Hello.

~ S. Craft, August 2012

Day 209: Checking Out Men

| Aspergers Girls

I was going to write about this awesome salad I made…….that’s guacamole along the edges, and beets I peeled and steamed, and all organic!

Or my adorable Violet (aka Spastic Colon) that I overfed with people-food so much that she threw up all over the house. This is her looking at me wondering why I didn’t take her on my walk to the lake. It was 95 degrees outside, that’s why. And you, Violet, poop out after one lap when it gets over 70 degrees. You no longer like the sun. She didn’t understand.

Well, I guess, I just did write about both, but not at length. Here’s the real scoop….

I’ve been walking around the lake near our house, once or twice a day. While I’m walking, I practice eye contact. Eye contact is not something I learn naturally, and not something I ever feel comfortable with. Not something I enjoy. And not something that I like practicing.

I “taught” myself how to make eye contact with strangers at the age of thirty-five. I realized I was having a hard time at it (eye contact), and needed to make a change, the time I was attempting to look up at a male sales clerk at a local take-and-go pizza parlor, and I got so nervous, that I wrote a check for $400 instead of $14. He wasn’t eye candy or even close to my age. But pretty much all males under 80 and over 10 make me nervous. I didn’t realize the error in my ways, until the establishment cashed my check.

I get nervous looking at anyone I do not know well. Especially men. I have become much more comfortable with women my age and older, small children, and senior citizens. They feel safe to me. Every other age group, when I think about locking eyes, I squirm inside from nervousness.

I now set my eyes just beyond a person or on a person’s forehead, in an attempt to appear friendly and approachable. I’d say I make eye contact with 80% of the females I pass (like in a store) and about 40% of males, well maybe 20%.

Lately, I’ve been wearing sunglasses when I walk the lake, and a plastered on real-looking smile. I listen to music and this helps me smile. And I remember all the smiles I’ve been practicing in the mirror and on camera. My face fidgets all over the place, while my smile tries to find a home. I am more comfortable with my mouth closed. Though I think my teethy smile is prettier. So I probably look perplexed and intense when I smile.

My hugest practice-smiling comes when a man my age approaches me while passing me on the jogging/walking trail at the lake. There are typically a couple dozen of men my age any given day that pass me. I have learned, through trial and error, to stare down the female, if a couple approaches, before I glance very quickly at HER male with a smile. If I smile at the male first, I tend to get a very shifty-darty eyed look from the female. I find this interesting, but logical.

I have also found that men about ten years my senior or more, tend to smile at me first, and even nod or say hello, while men my age look suspicious. This could be me jumping to conclusions. I wonder if I should start taking notes.

With every person that passes me,  I stand up straighter, glance slightly that person’s way, and then look at the forehead. With sunglasses on, I can hover there longer. Sometimes I get nervous and move down to the chest or legs. Which in retrospect, maybe isn’t such a good path for my eyes to follow. The whole time I’m looking I have a cheesy closed-lip smile and I hold my breath.

I’ve been practicing really super hard, and was feeling fairly pleased with my progress. Until tonight. Now I’m going back to the proverbial drawing board in my mind and trying to connect the eye contact dots.

At the lake, on my last loop around, a man my age approached me. He came up real close. I think he ran up to me from his car. He said, “Hey,” grabbed my wrist gently, and placed a folded small piece of paper in my hand. Between the “Hey” and hand grabbing, I figured this guy had special needs and needed my help.

He didn’t. But that was my first thought—trusting soul I am.

And so I smiled big, wanting him to feel safe, if indeed he had special needs.

As he stood there, I unfolded the note and read it quickly. Kind of in shock, and not fully comprehending what I’d read, I fell back on habit and manners, smiled again, and said with a giddy voice, “Thank you!”

The note??

James. Phone number.

I saw you checking me out!

Text me your name.

Hmmmm…..I think I might need some more practice….

Day 208: Attention: Nutter Virus! No Cure!

| Aspergers Girls

 

Nutter: Brit slang for a mad or eccentric person

YOU may be a Nutter if…….

1)      You have lost the desire to fix because none are broken

2)      You reflect authenticity in your words and actions

3)      You forgive all and everything

4)      You take the path of least resistance

5)      You accept your being as perfect and divine

6)      You understand that you do not have the answers

7)      You utilize discernment and release judgment

8)      You seek to know another’s ideas and opinions

9)      You are comfortable with those who do not share your point of view

10)   You  convince none to see  your way

11)   You feel unmoved to defend when you hear beliefs you do not uphold

12)   You are dynamic in your soft and gentle ways

13)   You are a child at heart

14)   You understand that right and wrong are naught

15)   Your self-importance has yielded, died, and been reborn as acceptance

16)   You understand popularity shifts like the sands in an hourglass, depending on the time and angle

17)   You have no need to share your accomplishments, to brag, to boost your esteem, to show off

18)   You desire for all beings to be at peace but know you must begin with you

19)   You sense the energy behind words, actions, and thoughts

20)   You understand the more you feed the lion with anger, the more he grows in rage

21)   You understand the more you feed the ghosts of desire, the louder they haunt

22)   You see your reflection in every person

23)   You see the light which blinds illusions of darkness

24)   You experience letting go

25)   You have a difficult time remembering what to worry about

26)   You know that nothing is real beyond your thoughts, though intangible they be

27)   You see yourself watching your self; step back as the observer, to observe the observer observing the observer

28)   You forgive before the thought of anger arises

29)   You have urges to talk to strangers because they exist

30)   You pray for humility and love

31)   You willingly sacrifice your happiness to assist one

32)   You love the unfamiliar man as much as the familiar son

33)   You love the unfamiliar pain as much as the familiar joy

34)   You recognize there are no boundaries outside of self

35)   You realize your life is a reflection of your desire

36)   You know that it is easier to smile than to frown

37)   You no longer pick yourself up; you simply roll over and smile at the moment

38)   You embrace all life in all forms

39)   You hear the trees whisper

40)   You release expectation

41)   You rejoice in the moment

42)   You see the layers of your mind

43)   You know you are no more or less than all

44)   You give fully and completely

45)   You focus on what is working

46)   You encourage joy and happiness

47)   You find yourself looking for beneficial news

48)   You see through others’ eyes

49)   You speak to connect

50)   You count and share your blessings

51)   You cease searching for flaws

52)   You are stable even as the singular mind ebbs and flows

53)   You know you are interconnectedness

54)   You are calm in your unfolding

55)   You do not require validation of your worth

56)   You have sudden urges to create without need of recognition

57)   You can hear your own voice cheering

58)   You listen to the voice beneath the voice, the need beneath the need, the want beneath the want

59)   You move in the world without manipulation, ill-will or deception

60)   You shine bright and bold

61)   You radiate acceptance and provide a safe haven

62)   You know suffering cannot be categorized

63)   You remove all pride

64)   You no longer dream of success

65)   You embrace all emotions and all facets of being

66)   You hunger for knowledge, until you accept there is only the still voice within

67)   You have moments of overwhelming joy interwoven within an abiding inner calmness

68)   Every sound is your symphony

69)   Every person your story

70)   Every word life

~ Samantha Craft, August 2012

 

Day 205: What my Husband Hears

| Aspergers Girls

What my Husband Hears (aka: Why my Husband is a Saint)

Words I spoke today during our time together. Mostly on our walk through the forest. 

1. Do you think I look slutty? Are you sure? Do other women dress like this? Is this shirt too tight? I don’t think I should wear this shirt in public? Does it make me look fat? How do you know I don’t look slutty?

2. Look at my eye again. In the light. Can you see the pink in my eye? Does it look better? Are you sure? How do you know it is better? What if it gets worse. I think it feels better. Do you think my eye will be okay? Can you see the dry skin in the corner? What do you think it is? Look closer!

3. I am taking so many photos. Thank you for being patient. This is more of a leisure walk. We are stopping a lot. I’ll have to walk more later around the lake. I haven’t walked in two days. These shorts are too big. You are right. I should buy some new shorts today. I wonder if I am a size four yet. These are too baggy. Yes, they are too baggy.

4. Take a photo here. Oh, stop here. Oh, look there. Oh, look at that tree. Oh my, look at that. Oh, look, look! Look up. Look at the spider web. Look at the water. Take one of me from uphill. I look better if you stand uphill. Not so much of my chest. You are showing too much of my chest. How do I look? Do I look okay? Can you tell my eye is pink?

5. I ate too much caffeine. I had that tea, and chocolate bar, and the chocolate gluten-free cake. Feel my heartbeat. Is it beating too fast? Are you sure it’s not? I think it’s too fast. I’m okay, right? Feel here. I need to rest. I am tired. It’s so fast. I have to stop here and catch my breath. This walk is not enough to burn off all the calories from the cake.

6. Oh, we should go this way, and when we get to the fork in the path then we’ll need to go up and to the right; otherwise we will end up on the wrong street. These maps are not designed well. We are educated and intelligent people, and we can’t even figure these signs out! How are other people who aren’t as smart supposed to figure them out? I don’t mean that we are smarter than everyone. Well, you know what I mean. Maybe we should turn and go the other way. What do you think? …..I told you this was the wrong way!

7. Are you staring at my butt and smiling. I can feel you smiling behind me and staring at my butt. You are staring at my butt. And you are picturing grabbing it. I can see you. I am psychic, you know. This proves it. You are staring, aren’t you?

8. Oh, it’s a little Toto dog. How cute. Look at that Toto dog. Oh, he is so cute. Did you see that little dog?

9. I think I would like to have relations with a ninety year old man to give him his dying wish. Is that wrong to feel that way? To want to fulfill a man’s dying wish like that? It doesn’t feel wrong. But maybe it is.

10. You know if you cheated on me, I would forgive you. It would be okay. I know it would only be out of lust, because I know I am sweet and you will not find anyone as sweet and kind as me. So I know it would only be a physical thing. And by me saying this, it will probably make you less likely to cheat, because part of the reason men do cheat is because it is a no-no and forbidden, and you are not supposed to. So, really, since I’m giving you permission, it takes the danger element out of it. But if by me saying this to you makes you want to cheat more, then I take it back. You don’t want to cheat on me now because I said that, do you? Should I take it back?

11. So there are different types of men I am noticing. There are married men who stare and I think oh they are thinking they don’t want to be with their wife and are sad, and they wish they were with another woman. But then there are men who look, but love their wives, and want to be with their wives, but they cannot help but look at other women. You’re a man. All men look, right? And I understand if you have to look. All men look at other women, don’t they? You look, and that’s okay, but you do it in a sly careful way. Some men aren’t careful, and that would be hard. But if I was ever single, I would never meet the type of man I am attracted to. Because I’m not attracted to the men that stare in an obvious way. I’m attracted to the men who don’t look, or look really fast, and I would never know they were looking at me; so how would I ever know they liked me? You see it would be hard for me, because I like the shy guy who is a little insecure and doesn’t know he is handsome, and those are the type that would never approach me.

12. What’s your type of woman? Is that your type? How about her? You like women who are more like me, now, right? Before you liked tall and blonde. But not anymore. Do you know which of your friends I used to be most attracted to? Do you know why? No, not him. He is not my type at all.

13. If I die this is where I want you to spread my ashes. Right under this tree. Right here. Remember, okay. Here or Mt. Rainier. But this is much closer to home. Don’t you think? This would be a good place. This is just as pretty as Mt. Rainier and that is a wonderful tree.

14. I used to date the most handsome men, and it was so difficult. I would never do that again. They were handsome but not very smart, and I’d walk in a room and all eyes would be on them. And people would come up to me and say how handsome they were. And I knew those guys cheated. They had all theses chances. It’s no good dating a man like that. No good at all. Don’t you agree?

15. Oh, you are a good catch. As you get older, you out shine more and more of the men that are getting old like you. You are aging well, and they aren’t.

16. I’ve loved you through thick and thin. Mostly thick. Except for those two months you paid all that money to lose that weight. Other than that, mostly thick.

 I didn’t know my husband was taking the photo. The trunk of the tree was so lovely.

I took a photo of this trail. Then my husband did. His photo was much better. He won the contest between us. I told him my photo would be better. I was wrong. The photo below was not taken from uphill. Still not too bad. And you can’t tell I have a cold in my eye. Or can you?

~

(This post was originally marked day 125….that’s my mistake…from a combo of after midnight, dyslexia, and too much caffeine. It’s day 205. No way am I going back 80 days!)

Day 204: F*** the Dark Voice

| Aspergers Girls

F*** the Dark Voice

I’m sick of your taunting, as if you are right, as if you even know

You are slime, like at the bottom of my fish tank, only more fouler, like the smell of the runs

You linger there, in your toilet bowl of scummy mess and await me like the monster Grendel

I do not like you, not one bit, and would hate you, if you were even hate-able

But you’re not, not worth the hate

I wouldn’t decorate you with the compliment

You foul creature I despise

If I could pick you apart, I would start at your heart, or where your heart should be

But you only have a shadowed center, a phantom form, something I cannot touch

That no one can reach

You hide in not existing

You hide in not being there

But yet you taunt louder than a thousand soldiers stomping across enemies’ graves

You don’t even know me

But I think you do

You can’t even see me

But I think you can

You are such a mystery, that if I could admire the maggots crawling out of my rotting dog’s flesh, then I’d admire you

In the way I look at fungus on the skin, or in the way I feel my heart skip a beat

I would admire you with fear and disgust

And that is what you wish

That is what you ingest

Complete fear and disgust

You long for me to take my own self apart, piece by piece

To fear my own body, my own form

Because you are jealous in your non-existence

If you could extinguish me, you can then live

But I laugh at you, you creeping ghost of dark

For I am light, and I shall burn you to a crisp

Take you out before your spindly tentacles reach me

And I shall shine upon your evil breath

The way the scope of knowledge shines against the tainted rulers of masses

And we together shall rise and wash you out

No matter you are invisible and dark

No matter you are unreachable

We shall find you in our souls and bleed you out

And feed you to the tigers of fish

So they can nibble upon you and fertilize the world with your drought

Be gone great master of trickery and ghastly thoughts

Be gone all of your ways that torment this being

For I am no longer alone

And my light multiplied shall corrupt your plans

And leave you helpless, spineless and begging for mercy

And then, in our light, we will scoop you up

Babe in arms, and examine your sweetness, your words, your outcry

And find ourselves staring back with the tender longing for love

~~~~

Samantha Craft, August 2012