Day 203: This is Boring. This is Pain.

This is boring. This is pain.

Somedays, like today, I struggle to function.

Every day is a huge challenge for me; something that I seldom talk about or mention. Just getting out of bed takes a lot of effort. I don’t like to write about my  pain and various physical “conditions,” as I am not my conditions, I am not an illness, and I am definitely not pain. I don’t like to talk about everything I must do to keep myself moving.  But I am. Mainly because I was on the couch all day and had a heck of a lot of time to process. Plus, a little boring never hurt anyone.

There isn’t a moment I don’t feel something askew in my body. Because I am so sensitive, even a hair in my face can irritate me, even cause a rash. My own hair! My nose constantly itches. Sometimes my eyes. All my joints seem to hurt. But I can’t tell if it’s my joints, my muscles, or something else. And neither can the doctors. Right now the couch hurts my bottom. The laptop desk hurts my thighs. And at least ten different areas in my body are either in pain or irritated or itching.

I’ve been diagnosed with at least ten syndromes or illnesses. Nothing is a definite. Nothing truly proven beyond a long list of symptoms. At this point I could have inherited something, suffer as a result of multiple injuries/accidents, been prone to pain from stress or environmental toxins, or made everything up in my head.

Sometimes I like to think everything is in my head. At least I have some control that way. The older I get, the more I realize my whole reality is in my head, anyhow. All my thoughts control my mood. My eyes what I see. My ears what I hear. My brain what I take in, recall, process, judge. I’m sure my spirit plays some part, as well as my second-brain (the intestines), but seriously, so much goes on in my head to begin with.

There are lots of things I have to do in order to function. If I skip any of them, or if something is off, I am pretty much certainly going to be in bed or on the couch for a large period of time. Each day I wake up, I feel like I am preparing for battle: a battle just to survive the day without collapsing in great fatigue and pain.

Here is a list I keep in mind to help manage my days.

1)      Shower; something about the hot water on my body rejuvenates me and reduces my muscle pain. If I don’t shower I feel extra greasy and itchy. If I don’t shower, I feel increased pain all day. Problem is, sometimes I’m too tired or fatigued to even think about showering. I have to force myself to. I don’t like showers. They are boring.

2)      Pig hormone; for my hypothyroid I have to take a natural pig hormone. I haven’t eaten pork since sixth grade (my decision). So at first the thought of ingesting any part of a pig, felt odd, but then I figured it was the pigs way of paying me back. Pig karma, for not eating them for so long. Trouble is this hormone gives me the skin of a fifteen year old. I appreciate the healthy glow, but the sticky oil and chin breakouts, I could do without. Seems I’ll take longer to get all wrinkly, though. So, I guess that’s a bonus, even though my skin is worse than my teenage sons’.

3)      Various supplements; if I go too long without any supplement, I feel it somehow. However, one benefit of being me is that I’m very sensitive to what is happening in my body. In September, it will be two years since I’ve had a cold or flu bug. I can feel a cold coming on. I feel it in every joint in my body, like I’ve been poisoned. Feel it before most people do. And when I do, I load up on Vitamin C and Vitamin D. So far I’ve managed to keep from getting sick. Fingers crossed and knocking on wood. I can tell things about me, too. If my eye sight is growing worse, I need more magnesium. If my leg twitches, I need my multivitamin. If I am tired, I need to take my iron and eat a little fish.

4)      Diet; it’s easier for me to list what I can eat, than what I cannot. I can eat nuts, fish, vegetables, and fruit. Everything else gives me some reaction. Chocolate gives me rashes and makes me break out. Dairy gives me rashes. Wheat makes me bloated and depressed. Artificial anything gives me stomach issues. Most foods in general cause me extreme fatigue immediately after eating. If I am going to eat, I usually have a small portion of salad. Grains are going to make me tired. Wine hurts the salivary glands in my neck. Beer gives me a stomach ache. I am definitely high-maintenance. If I am not careful, after a meal, I will be in pain and fatigued, and have to take a nap.

5)      Liquid; I need to have lots of water and green tea. The green tea gives me the boost to function in the morning and alleviates my chronic fatigue. Green tea also lessens my pain. If I have coffee I go into a spastic mode. If I want to clean I have a quarter cup of coffee in the morning. If I drink coffee I will be up past midnight and have lots of cool ideas, or what seem to be cool ideas, but are really elaborated ramblings that don’t prove much of a point. Coffee makes me paranoid, worried, and stressed. Oh, and agitated.

6)      Exercise and movement; I have to move. Once I sit down, it is very hard for me to get back up. Especially if I combine eating in the morning with sitting on the couch. And forget it if I eat, sit on the couch, and skip my shower—I’m pretty much down for the count on those days. If I walk my serotonin levels increase and my mood is better. Everything is brighter. If I walk far, lately five to seven miles in a day, it is easier for me to sleep deeply at night. Fatigue sets in badly about 3:00 pm, so if I can walk then, sometimes a second walk, I can keep from sliding into the unable-to-move zone.

7)      Weather; if there is a lot of barometric pressure from clouds then I have a hard time moving. Also, if it is chilly, my bones ache. At least it feels like my bones ache. On cloudy days (most days in Washington) I need to make sure I take care of myself; if I do not, I will not function. On cold days the far infrared sauna is helpful. But sometimes I am too fatigued to go into the sauna. The thought of having to undress, shower, and then dress again seems overwhelming. I worry about how I will keep up my walking with the end of summer coming. I have to find ways to exercise. We have an indoor treadmill which I avoid. And a stationary bike I haven’t made friends with, either.

8)      Sleep; if I do not get enough sleep, I will have increased pain and fatigue two days following. If my sleep is interrupted and/or not restful, the next days will be harder for me to move. I am sensitive at night. I need a special mattress for my body to feel comfortable, must wear long sleeves and long pants, regardless of the weather, or I itch, and need to use earplugs. All noises bother me. Particularly banging, high pitched noise, the ticking of clocks, water of a fish tank, voices, television, and snoring.

9)      Stress; if my stress level is medium to high, I will have instant pain. People’s moods affect my pain. Screaming, whining, loud noises, yelling, fighting, and the like increase my pain. Unwelcomed news increases my stress. Lies are a big trigger for me.

10)   Thoughts; if something is out of the ordinary, if plans get changed suddenly, if I notice something on someone’s body that is out of the ordinary, then my thoughts may overwhelm me to the point of exhaustion. My thoughts can trigger sudden onset of pain. When something I am looking forward to is suddenly canceled I am fine. But when something happens I wasn’t expecting, no matter how pleasant, I can get overwhelmed. Skin “issues” are a big trigger for me. I have an odd rash around my eye. I worried and fretted today about my eye, and collapsed on the couch from fatigue. I catastrophize in my mind, thinking of worse case scenarios. My sons have mosquito bites all over them from one hungry house bug we’ve yet to catch. And my chin is breaking out from that pig hormone. All this increases my thoughts.

11)   PMS; oh yes, the lovely word. The five days of hell for me. All my pain increases, fatigue doubles, negative thoughts increase, and basically I think the whole world hates me. My face and stomach swell up and I look and feel like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. This makes it harder for me to leave the house and exercise, which can lead to further fatigue and bring on depression. You’ll notice I do not post photos of me during this time. I also get cravings for chocolate! Not something I should really be eating.

12)   Chemicals; I have to avoid all chemicals in products and makeups. Thus the frizzy hair and minimal makeup. I get instant pain from inhaling chemicals in all forms. I have to avoid places with new carpet, paint, flooring, or other odors. Plastic smells are the worse.

13)   Information; I have to be careful what I read or watch. News or a film can deeply affect my mood, which triggers…you guessed it…my pain. People close to me have learned not to share sad news that doesn’t directly affect me. Some visuals I’ll never be able to get out of my mind.

14)   Noise; certain genres of music physically hurt my body. Dogs barking hurts my ears. Loud cars, especially motorcycles hurt. Too many people talking all at once, large gatherings with lots of conversations at the same time, all cause me trouble. Noise can affect me for the entire day, and may mean I have to stay inside the next day to recuperate.

15)   People; people affect me in all sorts of ways: their mood, their appearance, their smell, their mannerisms, voice, attitude, energy-level, facial expressions, spoken words. If my feelings get hurt, which happens more times than I’d care to ever admit, then I typically will feel pain somewhere in my body. If a person is sick, I might get phantom symptoms, even if I don’t know they are sick. If a person is happy or sad, I might start to feel that same way.

16)   Dread; if I am dreading something, particularly medical news, doctor appointments, or an upcoming outing, I will have trouble concentrating and relaxing. I will loop in my mind and spin in my thoughts. This will cause tension in my body, which leads to other problems. I have to get blood tests done about every six months to check my vitamin, protein, iron, and hormone levels. The thought of annual or biannual appointments for anything, sets me into a mini-panic.

So that’s my boring list.

This is boring.

This is pain.

Great movie Sliding Doors to watch when you are stuck on a couch!

And dang if that mosquito didn’t just buzz in my ear!!!

Day 200: Goodbye Sunshine

For day 200 I couldn’t think of anything better than James Blunt singing and stripping! Now that’s hot (and snowy cold).

A fictional piece of writing based on emotions of the past.

Goodbye Sunshine

There were small dresses hovering above.  Light spilled in through the bottom of the closet door in the shape of a crescent moon.  From where I sat, I let the moon kiss the back of my hand.  Then I stretched my hand through the narrow crack beneath the door and wiggled my tiny fingers in the space outside the darkness.  After counting to three, I pulled my hand back and returned it to the thick warmth of my dog’s fur.

An hour earlier, draped in my yellow shooting-star-patterned nightgown, I head reached across the dining table, and said, “One plate for you handsome Mr. Thumper and one for you dashing Blue Pony.”  My animals stared back at me and smiled then, Pony resting on his side in the side chair, because he kept falling down with his bad balance, and Thumper on his tail with his paws on the table.  “No arms on the table,” I said, and placed Thumper on his rump.  “That’s better. Did you wash your hands?”  They nodded.  “Did you say grace?”  They nodded again.  “Good,” I praised, picking up my red plastic piggybank from my chair and taking a seat.

“Good job,” Mother said, as she walked in through the kitchen door.  She plopped down a platter of cold meatloaf and a blue bowl of buttered potatoes, and then lit up four candles.

I held my plastic piggybank up to my ear.  “What’s that? Let me see.”  I looked up.  “He wants to know if he can come to the sitter’s on Monday.”

 

The rest of this story is in the book 🙂

 

© Everyday Aspergers, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com

 

Day 198: Finally Sunday!!!

Sam’s Ramble

If we went out for coffee and I drank coffee, and you looked like you might be at least half awake, this is likely what I’d tell you:

Four teenage boys are up at my house celebrating my oldest’s birthday. Their record is 6:00 a.m. bedtime. At least that is how late they stayed up the last time they all gathered at someone else’s house.  So looks like I’m in for a long night! Or at least they are. However, I had that quarter cup of coffee at eight in the morning, and that’s enough to keep me still awake at this late hour of 1:40 a.m.

Of course letting my son buy Hostess desserts that have enough sugar and preservatives in them to last until his hundredth birthday was likely not a keen idea on my part. It is the first time I’ve actually bought Hostess products. Twinkies scare me.

I always feel weird filling my grocery cart up with junk food. I want to wear a sign that says: “I normally do not poison my children, but it is a special occasion!”

Today’s shopping excursion with my newly fifteen-year-old was painless. Just a few swipes off the shelves…..first stop Coke, second stop large bag of Doritos, third stop Klondike ice cream bars, fourth stop donuts. Okay, I managed to convince him to buy some orange juice. Of course, I normally don’t buy orange juice because of the lack of nutritional value and high sugar content. But considering what else was in my cart, the OJ came up on top as feasibly the only product that had real food inside of it.

The boys are loud. Very loud. My husband assures me that wrestling at this age is perfectly normal. They are testing out their manhood and showing who is top dog. I’m sure glad I’m a girl. I am not good at wrestling. I did warn them to stay clear of the fireplace hearth as they are throwing each other down on the ground.

The first time I went into the daylight basement game room to see the boys, the first words out of my mouth were: “Wow! It sure stinks in here.” I then opened the sliding door and turned towards the teens to smile. The boys looked at me like I was very odd. One boy shyly asked if I was indeed Michael’s mother. I’m not sure what to think of that comment. Who does he exactly think I might be? A friendly neighbor bringing junk food and candy to random children?

What an odd week. Everything felt like it just missed the mark….kind of like the whole universe was singing off-key and I was tone-deaf. So I didn’t really notice, but knew something was askew.

My ankle went weak on me on my walk a few days ago and I just about ate dust. Hip still healing.

A friend from California called me out of the blue and I totally freaked out because I had to change my plans for the day. But we had a grand time. The second day I saw her we took a walk. My ankle went out on me, again, and this time I slammed my wrists down to stop my fall. Ouch. And we took this walk on this road, and every time a car came by, clouds of dust blew up into our face. Oh. But we did find this vacant house and sat on their deck and admired one of the most awesome views of water and layers of foliage and hills and mountains I’ve ever seen in my life. But I had decided to leave my camera at home. Later my friend informs me that her husband heard swear words coming out of my oldest son’s mouth that even he hadn’t heard before. That was a pleasant surprise. Almost as pleasant as the fall and dust clouds, but not quite. It was fun watching her elderly father fall asleep with his finger still pointing to the line of text he was reading from in his political book, and hearing from him that divorce is just a way to legalize prostitution, and finding out that he thought I was my sister. (I don’t have a sister.)

When I tried to go to my weekly massage appointment…I know, I know…but it’s for pain management…really it is. Well, they had just finished putting in a new floor. Seriously just finished. I mean I watched the carpenter’s van drive away. Well the whole building smelled of toxic floor glue. So I had to reschedule my massage (weep-weep)  and calm my lovely masseuse down, as she wasn’t too pleased with the smell herself. Which turned out to be okay, because my three boys were home alone, and I’d forgotten my cellular phone. And I figured that the fact my massage appointment was canceled was a darn good excuse to treat myself to a gourmet chocolate truffle at the Food-Co-Op. Of course, the CoOp had just finished pouring a new driveway which smelled like tar. But I risked the stench for chocolate.

A couple of days ago, my dog (Spastic Colon–her name, not her condition) took a crap at the lake where we walk everyday; and me being so utterly unprepared, because she only does number two at home, started worry frantically about the poop on the ground. I was so embarrassed that I yanked her before she was done and left a trail of her droppings. I noticed later a sneaker print in one of the droppings. Icky. After her “accident” I had to go retrieve the intolerably-smelling blue doggy bags the city provides and walk back and scoop up the poop. The poop doesn’t bother me so much. Well, it does. But those dang doggy bags that are scented with this awful artificial smell that stays on my hands and whatever else they come in random contact with are the worst! Once I forgot a city bag in my pocket, and the bag served as a laundry freshener. The wash came out smelling like doggy bags: a pungent rancid baby powder smell.

Today, when I tried to walk Spastic Colon she decided it was way too hot and just spread out on the grass. I had to yank her back to the van.

After meeting my neighbor for tea, five minutes into our conversation, a much-needed conversation, and much-needed company, I get a text from my oldest: “Mom. Please stop what you are doing and come home now. I cannot stop myself from punching my brothers.” That was fun. Then what had to be the largest bug in the world flew into our faces at our outside table, where we were having our tea, (well actually I was having sparkling water) and we both stood up and screamed and flapped our hands. Then the bug came back again. Turns out it was two black insects in the heat of romance. I still don’t know what they were, but they looked and sounded scary, with those black wings flapping and their darting about. I wonder what that would be like though….flying and doing what they were doing.

Today it was so very hot, some 95 degrees hot. That’s hot for here. We have no air conditioning. Our upstairs was eighty-eight degrees at 10:00 tonight.

Earlier, I took my two youngest chaps miniature golfing and my “baby” swung the club super hard and smacked a ball right into my ankle. Ouch! Then at dinner, a vegetarian trying to cut spare ribs for her son, (that would be me), with a butter knife, ended up sliding the ribs off the plate and smack onto the floor. Smack again.

I’m just glad it’s finally officially Sunday, the start of a new week in my book, so I can get back to my normal life. Like a few months ago when I came home from a walk to find my youngest two barricaded in the bedroom screaming as my eldest (then an immature fourteen year old) was threatening to kill them with an iron fire poker.

Oh, I forgot to mention. While I was at the restaurant supping with my boys this evening, a half-naked drunkardly-looking guy, carrying a toddler in his arms, rode by on a green fluorescent unicycle. And when we left the restaurant a fire truck was stopped in traffic with the fireman staring at me with wide fearful eyes, while I was staring at the scary man standing in front of the boys and me on the sidewalk, who had on sloppy white clown makeup and a costume red nose and old tattered clothes. He was attempting to do magic tricks by pulling out some type of tattered colorful scarves out of an old black wagon.

My middle son, with ASD, after we are seated in the van, he looks up and, with a deep sigh, says: “Did you see that fireman? Did you see his weird expression? He gave me the creeps!”

Day 197: Ten Traits

This post has never had the honor of its own day. So for day 197 I am reposting this. This post has brought hundreds of people together, and has been viewed by thousands and thousands of people all over the world. To see hundreds of comments go to this link, where the original post can be found. https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com/2012/02/10/aspergers-traits-women-females-girls/

Ten Traits

1) We are deep philosophical thinkers and writers; gifted in the sense of our level of thinking. Perhaps poets, professors, authors, or avid readers of nonfictional genre. I don’t believe you can have Aspergers without being highly-intelligent by mainstream standards. Perhaps that is part of the issue at hand, the extreme intelligence leading to an over-active mind and high anxiety. We see things at multiple levels, including our own place in the world and our own thinking processes. We analyze our existence, the meaning of life, the meaning of everything continually. We are serious and matter-of-fact. Nothing is taken for granted, simplified, or easy. Everything is complex.

2) We are innocent, naive, and honest. Do we lie? Yes. Do we like to lie? No. Things that are hard for us to understand: manipulation, disloyalty, vindictive behavior, and retaliation. Are we easily fooled and conned, particularly before we grow wiser to the ways of the world? Absolutely, yes. Confusion, feeling misplaced, isolated, overwhelmed, and simply plopped down on the wrong universe, are all parts of the Aspie experience. Can we learn to adapt? Yes. Is it always hard to fit in at some level? Yes. Can we out grow our character traits? No.

3) We are escape artists. We know how to escape. It’s the way we survive this place. We escape through our fixations, obsessions, over-interest in a subject, our imaginings, and even made up reality. We escape and make sense of our world through mental processing, in spoken or written form. We escape in the rhythm of words. We escape in our philosophizing.  As children, we had pretend friends or animals, maybe witches or spirit friends, even extraterrestrial buddies. We escaped in our play, imitating what we’d seen on television or in walking life, taking on the role of a teacher, actress in a play, movie star. If we had friends, we were either their instructor or boss, telling them what to do, where to stand, and how to talk, or we were the “baby,” blindly following our friends wherever they went. We saw friends as “pawn” like; similar to a chess game, we moved them into the best position for us. We escaped our own identity by taking on one friend’s identity. We dressed like her, spoke like her, adapted our own self to her (or his) likes and dislikes. We became masters at imitation, without recognizing what we were doing. We escaped through music. Through the repeated lyrics or rhythm of a song–through everything that song stirred in us. We escaped into fantasies, what cold be, projections, dreams, and fairy-tale-endings. We obsessed over collecting objects, maybe stickers, mystical unicorns, or books. We may have escaped through a relationship with a lover. We delve into an alternate state of mind, so we could breathe, maybe momentarily taking on another dialect, personality, or view of the world. Numbers brought ease. Counting, categorizing, organizing, rearranging. At parties, if we went, we might have escaped into a closet, the outskirts, outdoors, or at the side of our best friend. We may have escaped through substance abuse, including food, or through hiding in our homes. What did it mean to relax? To rest? To play without structure or goal? Nothing was for fun, everything had to have purpose. When we resurfaced, we became confused. What had we missed? What had we left behind? What would we cling to next?

4) We have comorbid attributes of other syndromes/disorders/conditions. We often have OCD tendencies (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), sensory issues (with sight, sound, texture, smells, taste), generalized anxiety and/or a sense we are always unsafe or in pending danger, particularly in crowded public places. We may have been labeled with seemingly polar extremes: depressed/over-joyed, lazy/over-active, inconsiderate/over-sensitive, lacking awareness/attention to detail, low-focus/high-focus. We may have poor muscle tone, be double-jointed, and lack in our motor-skills. We may hold our pencil “incorrectly.” We may have eating disorders, food obsessions, and struggles with diet. We may have irritable bowel, Fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, and other immune-challenges. We may have sought out answers to why we seemed to see the world differently than others we knew, only to be told we were attention seekers, paranoid, hypochondriacs, or too focused on diagnoses and labels. Our personhood was challenged on the sole basis that we “knew” we were different but couldn’t prove it to the world and/or our personhood was oppressed as we attempted to be and act like someone we were not. We still question our place in the world, who we are, who we are expected to be, searching for the “rights” and “wrongs;” and then, as we grow and realize there are no true answers, that everything is theory-based and limited, we wonder where to search.

5) We learn that to fit in we have to “fake” it. Through trial and error we lost friends. We over-shared, spilling out intimate details to strangers; we raised our hand too much in class, or didn’t raise our hand at all; we had little impulse control with our speaking, monopolizing conversations and bringing the subject back to ourselves. We aren’t narcissistic and controlling–we know we are not, but we come across that way. We bring the subject back to ourselves because that is how we make sense of our world, that is how we believe we connect. We use our grasp of the world as our foundation, our way of making sense of another. We share our feelings and understandings in order to reach out. We don’t mean to sound ego-centered or over zealous. It’s all we know. We can’t change how we see the world. But we do change what we say. We hold a lot inside. A lot of what we see going on about us, a lot of what our bodies feel, what our minds conjecture. We hold so much inside, as we attempt to communicate correctly. We push back the conversational difficulties we experience, e.g., the concepts of acceptable and accurate eye contact, tone of voice, proximity of body, stance, posture–push it all back, and try to focus on what someone is saying with all the do’s and don’ts hammering in our mind. We come out of a conversation exhausted, questioning if we “acted” the socially acceptable way, wondering if we have offended, contradicted, hurt, or embarrassed others or ourselves. We learn that people aren’t as open or trusting as we are. That others hold back and filter their thoughts. We learn that our brains are different. We learn to survive means we must pretend.

6) We seek refuge at home or at a safe place. The days we know we don’t have to be anywhere, talk to anyone, answer any calls, or leave the house, are the days we take a deep breath and relax. If one person will be visiting, we perceive the visit as a threat; knowing logically the threat isn’t real, doesn’t relieve a drop of the anxiety. We have feelings of dread about even one event on the calendar. Even something as simple as a self-imposed obligation, such as leaving the house to walk the dog, can cause extreme anxiety. It’s more than going out into society; it’s all the steps that are involved in leaving–all the rules, routines, and norms. Choices can be overwhelming: what to wear, to shower or not, what to eat, what time to be back, how to organize time, how to act outside the house….all these thoughts can pop up. Sensory processing can go into overload; the shirt might be scratchy, the bra pokey, the shoes too tight. Even the steps to getting ready can seem boggled with choices–should I brush my teeth or shower first, should I finish that email, should I call her back now or when I return, should I go at all? Maybe staying home feels better, but by adulthood we know it is socially “healthier” to get out of the house, to interact, to take in fresh air, to exercise, to share. But going out doesn’t feel healthy to us, because it doesn’t feel safe. For those of us that have tried CBT (Cognitive Behavior Therapy), we try to tell ourselves all the “right” words, to convince ourselves our thought patterns are simply wired incorrectly, to reassure ourself we are safe…the problem then becomes this other layer of rules we should apply, that of the cognitive-behavior set of rules. So even the supposed therapeutic self-talk becomes yet another set of hoops to jump through before stepping foot out of the house. To curl up on the couch with a clean pet, a cotton blanket, a warm cup of tea, and a movie or good book may become our refuge. At least for the moment, we can stop the thoughts associated with having to make decisions and having to face the world. A simple task has simple rules.

7) We are sensitive. We are sensitive when we sleep, maybe needing a certain mattress, pillow, and earplugs, and particularly comfortable clothing. Some need long-sleaves, some short. Temperature needs to be just so. No air blowing from the heater vent, no traffic noise, no noise period. We are sensitive even in our dream state, perhaps having intense and colorful dreams, anxiety-ridden dreams, or maybe precognitive dreams. Our sensitivity might expand to being highly-intuitive of others’ feelings, which is a paradox, considering the limitations of our social communication skills. We seek out information in written or verbally spoken form, sometimes over-thinking something someone said and reliving the ways we ought to have responded. We take criticism to heart, not necessarily longing for perfection, but for the opportunity to be understood and accepted. It seems we have inferiority complexes, but with careful analysis, we don’t feel inferior, but rather unseen, unheard, and misunderstood. Definitely misunderstood. At one point or another, we question if in fact we are genetic hybrids, mutations, aliens, or  displaced spirits–as we simply feel like we’ve landed on the wrong planet. We are highly susceptible to outsiders’ view points and opinions. If someone tells us this or that, we may adapt our view of life to this or that, continually in search of the “right” and “correct” way. We may jump from one religious realm to another, in search of the “right” path or may run away from aspects of religion because of all the questions that arise in theorizing. As we grow older, we understand more of how our minds work, which makes living sometimes even more difficult; because now we can step outside ourselves and see what we are doing, know how we our feeling, yet still recognize our limitations.  We work hard and produce a lot in a small amount of time. When others question our works, we may become hurt, as our work we perceive as an extension of ourselves. Isn’t everything an extension of ourselves–at least our perception and illusion of reality? Sometimes we stop sharing our work in hopes of avoiding opinions, criticism, and judgment. We dislike words and events that hurt others and hurt animals. We may have collected insects, saved a fallen bird, or rescued pets. We have a huge compassion for suffering, as we have experienced deep levels of suffering. We are very sensitive to substances, such as foods, caffeine, alcohol, medications, environmental toxins, and perfumes; a little amount of one substance can have extreme effects on our emotional and/or physical state.

8) We are ourselves and we aren’t ourselves. Between imitating others and copying the ways of the world, and trying to be honest, and having no choice but to be “real,” we find ourselves trapped between pretending to be normal and showing all our cards. It’s a difficult state. Sometimes we don’t realize when we are imitating someone else or taking on their interests, or when we are suppressing our true wishes in order to avoid ridicule. We have an odd sense of self. We know we are an individual with unique traits and attributes, with uniques feelings, desires, passions, goals, and interests, but at the same time we recognize we so desperately want to fit in that we might have adapted or conformed many aspects about ourselves. Some of us might reject societal norms and expectations all together, embracing their oddities and individuality, only to find themselves extremely isolated. There is an in between place where an aspie girl can be herself and fit in, but finding that place and staying in that place takes a lot of work and processing. Some of us have a hard time recognizing facial features and memorize people by their clothes, tone of voice and hairstyle. Some of us have a hard time understanding what we physically look like. We might switch our preference in hairstyles, clothes, interests, and hobbies frequently, as we attempt to manage to keep up with our changing sense of self and our place. We can gain the ability to love ourselves, accept ourselves, and be happy with our lives, but this usually takes much inner-work and self-analysis. Part of self-acceptance comes with the recognition that everyone is unique, everyone has challenges, and everyone is struggling to find this invented norm. When we recognize there are no rules, and no guide map to life, we may be able to breathe easier, and finally explore what makes us happy.

9) Feelings and other people’s actions are confusing. Others’ feelings and our own feelings are confusing to the extent there are no set rules to feelings. We think logically, and even though we are (despite what others think) sensitive, compassionate, intuitive, and understanding, many emotions remain illogical and unpredictable. We may expect that by acting a certain way we can achieve a certain result, but in dealing with emotions, we find the intended results don’t manifest. We speak frankly and literally. In our youth, jokes go over our heads; we are the last to laugh, if we laugh at all, and sometimes ourselves the subject of the joke. We are confused when others make fun of us, ostracize us, decide they don’t want to be our friend, shun us, belittle us, trick us, and especially betray us. We may have trouble identifying feelings unless they are extremes. We might have trouble with the emotion of hate and dislike. We may hold grudges and feel pain from a situation years later, but at the same time find it easier to forgive than hold a grudge. We might feel sorry for someone who has persecuted or hurt us. Personal feelings of anger, outrage, deep love, fear, giddiness, and anticipation seem to be easier to identify than emotions of joy, satisfaction, calmness, and serenity. Sometimes situations, conversations, or events are perceived as black or white, one way or another, and the middle spectrum is overlooked or misunderstood. A small fight might signal the end of a relationship and collapse of one’s world, where a small compliment might boost us into a state of bliss.

10) We have difficulty with executive functioning. The way we process the world is different. Tasks that others take for granted, can cause us extreme hardship. Learning to drive a car, to tuck in the sheets of a bed, to even round the corner of a hallway, can be troublesome. Our spacial awareness and depth-awareness seems off. Some will never drive on a freeway, never parallel park, and/or never drive. Others will panic following directions while driving. New places offer their own set of challenges. Elevators, turning on and off faucets, unlocking doors, finding our car in a parking lot, (even our keys in our purse), and managing computers, electronic devices, or anything that requires a reasonable amount of steps, dexterity, or know-how can rouse in us a sense of panic. While we might be grand organizers, as organizing brings us a sense of comfort, the thought of repairing, fixing, or locating something causes distress. Doing the bills, cleaning the house, sorting through school papers, scheduling appointments, keeping track of times on the calendar, and preparing for a party can cause anxiety. Tasks may be avoided. Cleaning may seem insurmountable. Where to begin? How long should I do something? Is this the right way? Are all questions that might come to mind. Sometimes we step outside of ourselves and imagine a stranger entering our home, and question what they would do if they were in our shoes. We reach out to others’ rules of what is right, even in isolation, even to do the simplest of things. Sometimes we reorganize in an attempt to make things right or to make things easier. Only life doesn’t seem to get easier. Some of us are affected in the way we calculate numbers or in reading. We may have dyslexia or other learning disabilities. We may solve problems and sort out situations much differently than most others. We like to categorize in our mind and find patterns, and when ideas don’t fit, we don’t know where to put them. Putting on shoes, zipping or buttoning clothes, carrying or packing groceries, all of these actions can pose trouble. We might leave the house with mismatched socks, our shirt buttoned incorrectly, and our sweater inside out. We find the simple act of going grocery shopping hard: getting dressed, making a list, leaving the house, driving to the store, and choosing objects on the shelves is overwhelming.

This list is based on workshops, videos, literature, personal accounts, and my own experience. Females with Asperger’s Syndrome present themselves very differently than males. This is not an all-encompassing list. It’s not a criteria. It’s limiting and bias-based, as it’s only my view. It is my current truth. I don’t claim to be an expert or professional….but I do know an awful lot about the subject. I hold a Masters Degree in Education, have Aspergers, one of my sons has Aspergers, and I have several graduate-level classes in counseling psychology…I guess I am sort of an expert, after all. ~ Sam Craft

© Everyday Aspergers, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.
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Day 196: In the Bright of my Eyes

Something to brighten your day by Bright Eyes

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I used to be afraid you’d only see a part of me, a piece, a section, a part I didn’t want you to see.

I used to think if I didn’t show all my parts as best as possible, all the time, then you might come at the wrong time, see the wrong parts. Not like what you see. Not want what you see.

I used to think my heart is so full I need to gush everything out all at once right now, or you will not understand, you will not realize, you will not get me.

I used to think that if you did not understand me, you could not love me, if you did not find all the treasures within me, you would not cherish me. I used to think I had to do it all, all the time, for you to care.

I used to think I was separated, divided, all these pieces, all these parts, and if one part failed, I failed, if one part was not perfection, I was not perfection. And how could you, as such perfection, love a flawed me.

I used to think I was different from you; that although I viewed you, absorbed you, siphoned you out as one tremendous and fantastic whole, that I was still parts.

I used to think in time I could win you over, with enough effort I could earn your love.

I used to think if I didn’t earn your love, I would die.

I used to think love was to be earned.

I used to think I had to show you. I had to prove to you everyday I was special, I was worthy, I was beauty. If you could not see me, I could not exist.

I used to think I was parts.

Now I know I am whole. Now I know I am beautiful. Now I know no matter what anyone else sees, my best is always there. In the bright of my eyes, in the bright of my soul. I shine. Without parts, I shine just fine.