challenges

293: Backwards Appeal

| Aspergers Girls

good hair dayhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVGYssHra2c

Yesterday I wore this fabulous red sweater.

I was feeling very confident, as I was having a good hair day, and my husband had saturated me with compliments, at least twenty since I awoke.

And after a hot sauna meditation and hot soak in dead sea salts, I was literally glowing.

With my cheeks rosy and love of self content, I set out to do errands. Time to redeem a gift certificate, a rebate check, and buy some food staples.

At my third stop, at the grocery store, as I was pushing my half-full cart down the snack aisle,  I felt an itchy sensation at the nape of my neck. I reached down, and found the sweater tag. My cheeks blossomed into a full crimson then.

And all at once a rush of fear came over me, as I realized my sweater was on backwards!

 I, quickly, without calling too much attention to myself, turned my cart around and made my way to the back of the store. Retreating into the bathroom, I had a good look at my sweater in the mirror. I gasped, while trying to laugh. But no laughter came.

The way the sweater was set, the back stitching in the front of me, I looked like I had two torpedoes jetting out.

Before, while dressing at home, I’d merely thought the way the sweater set against my chest was just the way the sweater was made, and that I ought not to have fretted about the design. I needed to get over my fears, and wear clothes without insecurity. Who cares if the cut of the sweater accented what was naturally a part of me? I had thought to myself.

 But now that I could tell for certain the sweater was on backwards, I thought for sure, people would have noticed, and been laughing, not only at my backwardsness, but at my pointy boobs.

Inside the store bathroom, still contemplating my silliness, I twisted the sweater around; only to find, that my under blouse, a little sleeveless black thing, was on inside out!

At this point I looked down at my boots, convinced I’d probably placed them on the wrong feet.

I know it doesn’t matter in the end. People at the crowded Big-Box Store probably didn’t notice, and if they did they got a good laugh. And I’m all right with giving others a good laugh. But I can’t help but think about those two older men who stopped me in my tracks in the grocery store, prior to my discovery; how they played dodge with my shopping cart, like we were two familiars partaking in a friendly game: “Try to get passed me with your cart!” Can’t help but think how ridiculous I must have looked with my front side all pointy and pronounced and all, as they tried to engage me in conversation and keep me from moving: me and my signature red chest.

It’s just plain crazy-making, the way I cannot dress my own body. Likely an after shock of having never liked or played with Barbie Dolls. I should have taken note, or at least practiced.

I still haven’t learned to stop praying for humility and release of pride. Seems I cannot go anywhere without being reminded of my unyielding humanness.

Here’s to red torpedo ladies, and all things fashionable.

May you, if and when you wear your clothes backwards, accentuate the positive.

It’s on backwards in this photo…heheheh Before I knew

good hair day

But You…

You are a flower that I cannot release

You stretch and root, your scent carried into the vein of me

I am your vase, your soil, your moisture, your sky

But you do not know me

I hold you day upon day, carry you where I go, smile at your beauty

I watch in admiration, as you unfold, as bud becomes bloom

You move where I move, bend where I bend, all the time unaware

Because you do not see me

Your vessel completes me, the fullness of you saturates

Your sweetness carries my every step closer to the heart of you

I reach to touch frail softness, nature’s perfection

But you cannot feel me

I turn to you in the darkness, cradling you at my side

I blanket you in the coldness, devouring the fire for your warmth

I comfort you in the rain, soothe to extinguish my own wants

But you cannot detect me

You scream in silence, and I am beckoned

I scream aloud, and you are lost

Together we collide, without ever joining

But you do not understand

I am your gardener, your life-giver, your equal, your maiden

You are my knight, my king, my answer, my calling

We are one in the meadow, rising together

But you do not recognize me

You sleep as if I am silence

You wake as if I am phantom

You speak as if I am death

And I remain flower wilted at your door

~ Samantha Craft 2012

The ABCs of Aspergers

| Aspergers Girls

The ABCs Of Aspergers

These attributes describe some of the wonderful qualities people with Aspergers may have:

A: Apologetic, Admit fault, Avoid superficial conversation, Accepting of quirks

B: Brilliant in chosen field of study

C: Capable, Caring, Complimentary, Creative, Clever problem solvers

D: Detail oriented, Driven, Devoted, Dauntless in Interests, Dependable, Deep Thinkers, Don’t Discriminate, Don’t have hidden agendas, Defend the weak

E: Enthusiastic, Exhibit Exceptional Endurance, Entertaining, Enlightened

F: Fact Finders, Forthright, Forgiving, Free from prejudice, Fruitful

G: Genuine, Good memory for facts and details

H: High-level of Integrity, Honest, Highly Focused

I:  Intelligent, Imaginative, Idealists, Ingenious, Instructive

J:  Justice seekers, Just

K: Knowledgeable, Kind

L: Loyal, Look for goodness and genuineness in friends, Listen without judgment

M: Memory can be exceptional, Memorable conversationalist

N: Not bullies, Not manipulative, Not deceptive, Not game players, Not inclined to lie and steal

O: Original thinkers, Open to new information, Outstanding, Optimistic despite setbacks

P: Puzzle solvers, Pattern finders, Pragmatic, Philosophical thinkers, Poetic, Passionately Pursue interests

Q: Quick learners, Quick thinkers, Question “truths” and opinions

R: Reliable, Regard others for their personhood, Routine establishers, Rule followers

S:  Sincere, Solution finders, Speak their mind, Strength in endeavors, Strong moral code, Sensitive to Sensory Stimuli

T: Talented, Trusting, Think in Pictures, Truth Seekers

U: Unique perspective and outlook

V:  Valiant, Vigilant, Advanced Vocabulary

W: Word interest, Witty humor, Wonderful Work ethics

X:  Non-Xenophobic

Y:  Youthful-outlook, Yearn for truth

Z:  Zestful, Zealous

I don’t know about you, but I think the world could do with a few more people like this!

It is human nature to classify and to make sense out of chaos. It is human nature to look for a reason and cause, especially in the aftermath of tragedy. It is also, oftentimes, a part of the human condition to find a scapegoat.

Using Aspergers or Autism Spectrum Disorders as a scapegoat is wrong. It is a form of discrimination.

Aspergers is not a mental illness. It does not lead to insanity or cause insane actions. Aspergers is a neurological condition that experts believe affects the frontal lobe of the brain, a condition that leads to differences in neurological function. It is a condition of the brain.

Though some would argue, Aspergers is a condition of the spirit, and simply a way of sensing the world in a different way than the typical person.

People with Aspergers are extremely bright, well-spoken, and loving individuals.

Claiming that a horrific event was caused because a person has an autism spectrum disorder does nothing but cause misery and pain to a group of individuals already facing discrimination and challenges.

It is a falsehood that Aspergers could in and of itself lead to violence. Aspergers, like all neurological conditions, causes challenges in day-to-day life, but it does not cause a person to be heartless or evil.

On the contrary, I know and relate to hundreds of people with Aspergers, and they have proven time and time again to be open-minded, wise beyond their years, fair and just, extremely honest, and compassionate. These people with ASD are some of the most caring and empathetic people I have met.

I am glad to call many people with Aspergers my friends and trusted confidants.

It saddens me deeply that we live in a society that is quick to lay blame without adequate research or inquiry. It saddens me that some of the brightest lights on this planet, often writers, artists, poets, and philosophers, are being pegged as somehow wrong and in need of fixing.

I know who I am. I know who my son is. We both happen to have Aspergers. This does not make us any better or worse than the rest of the citizens in our community. It is just an additional part of our personhood.

It is often the deprived, unloved and lost person who performs harmful acts. If we want to stop such acts we need to love others, provide safety, direction and support. We need to have a system in place that identifies children in need and then helps the children, regardless of financial implications.

There is much we can do to make a positive difference. I encourage you to stop supporting organizations and businesses that spread untruths for profit, and encourage you to start spreading your own truth.

Blessings ~ Sam

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/my-life-aspergers/201212/asperger-s-autism-and-mass-murder

 

Helpful Link

280: Dear Precious Child

| Aspergers Girls

Dear Precious Child,

My beloved child of the universe, so precious and so pure, do not give up, do not give in. We are here, as always, at your side. Do not fret my dearest one. Though we know in our hearts that this is what you must do, we too ache as we watch you go through this transition. But you are not alone. Never alone. We are always here with you. Do not forget us. Do not forget to reach out to us, to hear us, to listen. We are here for you more than ever, always and continually.

You cannot find comfort in this world without comfort, and nor can you find pain in our world without pain. To us, we are this world, and so we take your pain for you and release it ten-fold to the stars that breathe in your beauty. We adore you so. We adore you with the hearts of angels and with the innocence of cherubs. We absorb you into us, in a way a mother holds her child. We wrap you up in our love and remind you of your beauty. We sigh at the sight of your face. We relish your very smell, the sweetness of love. How your eyes sparkle with hope despite your woes. How you carry your sword high despite your pain. You are a warrior in the truest sense, and we shall never forsake you.

Do not take this pain into yourself. Do not use this pain for your destruction. When all about we stand in circle—your ancestors of the awakening. We are here to stop your slumber, and though the pain of opening your eyes seems an eternity, we say onto you this is nearly a breaking of the old to rebirth what is truly you.

You are such a sight to behold. Such a true spirit of hope and glory. So honest, so  real, so tender. No earthly man can revel in your beauty the way we do. Rely on us, as your saviors, and eternal angels. Rely on us to lift you and to return the love you so freely give.

You are not made a vessel to pour out to the world without being refilled. You are not made a vehicle for man alone. No matter the times you go to the well of humanity and refill your soul, you will run dry. You cannot sustain yourself without our fuel, and you need only open your eyes to see us.

We are everywhere, in the smile, in the wind, in the words that echo through the chambers of your soul. We are the passion. We are the joy. We are the coming home.

Do not think another moment you stand alone, when all about you the chariots of angels ride. You are never alone, were never alone, and shall never be alone.

Toss away the thoughts of finding your answer in the books or in the arms of another. There are no answers there. The only answers you seek are already inside of you. The only love you seek is already inside of you.

How can we stand by and not make you a vessel of our very love? How can we resist your beauty? How can we not fill you with our deepest compassion and desires? Where you walk, we walk above, continually pouring into you. Where you walk, we walk beside, continually lifting you straight. And when you fall, whether forward or back, we stand firm, to insure your safety. You are no less to us than ourselves. We can not sustain our essence without loving you.

When your tears fall, we count them, one by one. We count the endless eternity of you. We count each tear as our own. We count each pain as our own. We count all of you in completion, as us. We have given you our whole. You are to us as the rivers and seas, as the mountains and valleys, as the deepest carved rose.

You are this: An intricate design of creation. And as we bow down to you, and then lift you upon high, so you may see your beauty.

Throw away this pain. Throw it upon us. Feed us the poison that rules your heart. Feed us the angst, the misery, the anger, the hate. Feed us, so we together will grow stronger in our bond of love.

In times of sorrow do not think you are less bright, less important, less necessary. Can you not see that if happiness was all about you, we’d have nothing to give, nothing to share? So do this two-fold: Take our light upon you and bend this light into the beauty of recognition of self. Cry, but let the tears be the shadows of your heart’s desire. Let the tears fall, so the darkness can be lifted, and all that remains is the light, the tears themselves sacrificed so the sun can shine. Do not fret my child. Do not fret.

Cry, and we shall catch your shadows, one by one, and hang them as the stars of our night; and then we shall dance beneath your sorrow, beneath the light of you.

277: Painting My Angst

| Aspergers Girls

I like goals. I like plans that have an end result.

Painting or any art, is VERY HARD for me to do.

This morning I had so much angst, and I needed to release it.

I took out this canvas and oil paints. And had at it. I don’t even have paint brush cleaner, yet. Oil paints do not dissolve in water, I learned.

I blasted music from August Rush. I squirted tubes of paint, used assorted brushes, and made quite a mess of red on my sleeve. It symbolized the blood of my tears, I figure.

The first hour of painting was all confusion, worry about end product, about not being good enough.

I started putting that frustration into the painting itself—layers upon layers of personal angst atop painting angst, along with many other emotions.

I slowly started to let myself be. It was liberating, though still very uncomfortable.

By the end of the second hour, I said what the heck, and let loose.

I am hoping to continue to paint some more pieces and release a new part of myself onto canvas.

Painting isn’t as comforting to me as words and writing are, and isn’t what I would consider my “gift” or “skill.”

But that is the entire point for me: to explore something without trying to perfect, prove, teach, show, or learn.

To do something without an end goal or audience in mind.

I like to step away from the painting and look at it from far away.

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276: Taking the “Ladies” Out

| Aspergers Girls

I took the ladies out today. Just the three of us. Me and my boobs.

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Can you see my reflection? 🙂

Yep. Squishing-under-the-glass-time. Also know as Mammogram. A word which makes me think of screaming for my mamma and grandma, all in one heated breath! Yelp.

I like to smile thinking of a very special machine built for men, where they can go and get their balls squished under glass and be man-handled.  Not that I don’t love and appreciate men. I only say this as I believe this idea might provide equal ground and assist bridging the barriers between the male and female gender. Plus, the image is really fun to picture in my mind.

For some reason I think this would be a good theme song for men when they go for their ball exam:

Don’t ask me to analyze. It’s the beat, I suppose. No pun intended.

The old me, unlike the new and vastly transitioned me, would FREAK out about lab tests of any type. The old me put off this particular boob-squishiness for a bit, all out of fear. It’s not so much the test itself. It doesn’t hurt at all; it’s quite fast; and the technician had warm hands.

I freak about the time in between: the waiting period. That’s what I freak out about in life in general, that unknown zone. I’m not good with unknowns. Or at least I used to be no good. Now I’m pretty dang functional, borderlining on fabulous.

Today I focused on the positive. I didn’t allow any thoughts inside that weren’t beneficial. I imagined that my boobs, my lady friends, we were going to a party. I listened to Dancing Queen by Abba all the way to the appointment. Oh, what the heck. Here is the song again.

I sang at the top of my lungs. And I didn’t care who was watching. I hoped I made them smile. Or think: What is that girl so happy about?

If they’d asked, I would have said, I’m putting my ladies on stage, out in the spotlight. I’m bringing them out to PARTY.

That was and is my attitude. I make it so. I made this a positive experience.

To keep my spirits lifted and to protect my bubble of love from outsiders who might unknowningly spiritually intrude upon my awesome zone of energetic space, I used all sorts of protective devices. I have my lovely nana’s rosary in one pocket, and in the other pocket a stone a special friend found for me on the beach. I sprayed myself with a protection spray made of various natural herbs. I even dabbed on my Tibetan Holy water, blessed by Buddhist monks. I put a drop of olive and garlic tincture on my tongue—energy vampires begone!!! I made my hair look lovely, and lips inviting. We were going out on the town, half-naked, after all.

I wore purple to represent my third-eye chakra. I grounded myself and got super comfy in my big tan poncho. And I donned my fabulous amber healing necklace. At the last minute I grabbed my lady’s out purse, the one with the glittery sequence.

I listened to my inner voice all morning. And she guided me. First suggestion: Limit the caffeine. So I ordered a decaf peppermint mocha coffee and water for hydration. I forgot my water, but two people, and older man and an employee, came running outside after me to give me my water. I felt special.

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I drove to my destination, taking an exit I don’t usually take, and trusting my intuition,  found a new short cut. I arrived super early, and had ample time to focus on the message on my bumper sticker

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And I rubbed the thick moss off a stoic tree and talked to him about his beauty. And then this stud muffin tree beckoned me over. I couldn’t resist him. Big HUG!

I took lots of photos, but my phone wouldn’t work. That’s okay. I did manage to capture a little detail I added to my entrance paperwork. A little extra love, never hurts.

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You are missing out on the photo of me in my gown and a great shot of the boob-crusher machine.

I talked the technicians ears off. Go figure? She had to remind me to keep my mouth still while she was clicking the device to capture the rare images of my glorious ladies. I asked her if it hurt woman with small boobs more. She kind of grinned, and said, “No, it’s just different.” I wondered for a bit, what that meant. Then wondered if she thought that I thought I had big boobs and was bragging. I almost explained, but was distracted by the way my flesh appeared all flattened and spread. I remarked about the overall comfort of the machine and the improvement in technology. And of course, I verified twice when my results would be available.

I did mention about my Aspergers and my son’s Aspergers. It’s kind of what I do.

Turns out someone she works with has a son that just got diagnosed with Aspergers. I offered out my phone number to give to her friend as a gesture of support–cause that’s kind of what I do, too.

But no! WAIT…..

My technician got a little bit happy, and instead of taking my number, she asked me to return to the dressing area and wait there. She specified, “Wait here. Get dressed, and I’ll be back.” I thought it was funny that she told me to get dressed. I wasn’t about to meet a stranger half-naked.

Minutes later, I hear two ladies outside my curtain whispering: “Do you think she is dressed, yet?” And I’m thinking, behind my curtain: This is the oddest way I’ve ever entered a room before to meet someone for the first time.

I open the curtain, swishhhh, all dressed, and feeling like I’m the wizard in the Wizard of Oz, popping out with my hand extended. We hit it off, the kind lady technician and me; and before we are too deep in conversation, another lady nearby pops out of her curtain, still in her gown, not yet finished dressing. She says: “Me. Me, too. Give me your number and name. My son has Aspergers.”

So there we are laughing and talking in the middle of the mammogram dressing room, so much so that we had to hush our giggles. I even took their photo, with the one still in her gown! It was for my blog, I said. My Aspergers itself pretty much giving me the liberty to do and say anything, so I said teasingly to myself.

I left just so very happy and pleased.

My only intention entering that radiology department today was to make connections, to brighten someone’s day, and to make a difference. That’s what me and my ladies set out to do. All dolled up and out on the town, we just wanted to touch someone with our love.

~~~~~~~~

^the song my grandpa’s spirit sang for two days to the seer, until he met with me, and figured out the message was for me. See Yesterday’s post if you are confused. Or take a nap. Or just nod like you understand, like I frequently do when others are talking and I haven’t got a clue.^

Now I’m going to listen to this song over and over. Me and my ladies, we feel like a good cry:

….. To make you feel my love. Hopeless romantic at heart.