fear

Day 158: On Fear

| Aspergers Girls

This is not a religious post.

Here are my thoughts on religion: Day 23 The Sacred Hours

When I receive things in prayer, often the words I hear are common to me.

(*) Therefore “angel,” “heaven,” and “eternal life” are in the text, because those are words that resonated with me at the time of the writing. The words can easily be replaced to fit another’s comfort level.

This was scribed by me over a year ago. Had I asked this same question today, no doubt the response would be somewhat different in word choice and content. Still this stands the test of time for me. I continue to find the message comforting and affirming.

Spring 2011

On FEAR

(by Samantha Craft)

There is a lot of energy in your area that is directed towards fear: fear of illness, fear of disaster, fear of future, fear especially of repercussion of past choices. This fear is a necessary part of the process of human evolution. At the same time, this fear is necessary to release.

Fear creates more fear, even as fear sleeps below as nothingness. It can create. This fear is nothing, and yet it produces. This is a concept of debate, but nonetheless true.

Without fear we do not learn to release fear. In the process of release, we discover, if even for a small moment, a sense of tranquility and knowingingness that is best described as lifting of the veil.

In fear we find refuge from our common problems; we escape momentarily from what is around us in the present, and let go of where we stand, our foundation slipping beneath us into oblivion even without us taking note. People respond to fear like iron flecks to magnet. This fear calls to us, promising us solution and reprieve from our ordinary dwellings of spirit.

This fear is a falsehood, with false intention and false promises.

Answering the call of fear does not do little; answering the call of fear does great—in this we mean there is no small amount of consequences of responding to the call of fear; there is only large amount of consequence.

Fear begets fear, begets fear. Fear instills fear. Even a discussion or revelation of the consequences of fears’ travels, begets even more fear.

There is similar process with love, except love currently (for you) does not have the same magnetic pull. Perhaps because the axis of the earth, as you perceive it, is more prone for fearful thoughts and circumstances. Perhaps more because the axis of the mind is more prone for fearful thoughts and circumstances. For as the earth is on an axis, thus is the mind, spinning out of control with the simplest of perceived threats.

WE must turn back and find from where the threat has risen, from what the ultimate fear has stemmed from. When we look closely, and with open spirit eyes, we shall soon rediscover what we already innately knew; we shall witness that fear is always a derivative of death. What we fear ultimately is what will bring us to death. Death is perceived as an enemy, a curse that falls on the unlucky and cursed. Death is something to escape, to run from, to spend countless energy in all forms sprinting from.

There is no escape. Death is here. Death is all around you. Death is in the flower giving birth; to the tree releasing his soul; to the ocean bleeding on the shores; everything sheds, releases and is reborn.

Instead of running from death, it is beneficial to run towards love.

WE are so busy creating in our minds the scenarios to escape death, that we become blinded by our neighbors, by the needy, by the naïve, and staves of hopelessness.

You need not fear this word created as Death, for he is as real as your shadow, as real as the reflection on the water where you look and cannot touch. For if you touch these illusions they diminish before the brain can process their possible existence.

You too will diminish, as a shadow that was born for only moments. In this moment you are but an existence within an existence, a shadow within a shadow.

There is no escaping a threat that does not exist. Only escaping a mind that tricks you as the coyote tricks the layman. You are but a crippled traveler, thinking he has set eyes upon an oasis in the desert, running towards the illusion of water to relieve a thirst that does not exist.

Fear not this self-created death—fear more the response you have created in your world to an illusion—to the actions of the fearful—to what you leave behind and forget when fear is the house you reside your spirit, your soul.

You are so much more than illusion and self-created pain and fear. You are like the dove with the laurel branch offering guidance and reassurance amidst a land that has been washed away. You need not fear, for your wings will carry you to the highest ground, to the place above fear, where you can look down, as a scope to the world, and examine all that is beneath, before, and after.

Above are the answers; lift your head to the heavens (*), and then go above this place of fear.

You have no control over the evolutions of time, the events that mark your destiny, the places you shall and shall not travel.

This is written: That no man shall know the end times until the end times have past. That no man shall suffer unknowingingly and undutiful without the assistant of his angels. That no man shall be alone. For if one man is alone, all man shall be alone.

And in the end, when the sun has ceased to shine, and the heavens (*) have opened welcoming every last soul to the eternal promise (*) , we shall sing for all that has past, for this enemy in fear, for this teacher; for though he has troubled and hindered, has forbade and tackled, he has also inspired the multitudes to cling like diamond to his sister, and rocket to the sky.

We shall be triumphant, not in our measurement of fear or release of tiresome aches. WE shall be triumphant in our ability to overcome the magnificent foe of fear.

And in this way, when we gather together around the burning embers of fear, embracing the love that bleeds from fear’s core, then, and only then, shall we see the illusion of all that was, is and is yet to be.

There is no you, only us, only we, only eternity in the notion of forever. You are love. You are fear. You are everything you embrace. So we beseech you to embrace love, to see the heart that resides in the core of the fear that grips you. Love yourself, love your neighbor, and in this all will be healed. Forever.

Day 157: The Demons at the Door

| Aspergers Girls

The Demons at the Door

The phone rang: one old pale orange phone with a curled orange cord that hung on the light blue wall.

A heavyset woman with a short-shaved haircut picked up.  She looked like my mother’s long ago roommate, the heavy-boned woman who taught me how to shower; the one I’d once tried to forget.  The one that reminded me of plums—how they can be split open with bare hands and the insides all sucked out.

“Stew, it’s for you!” The stranger hollered across the lobby.  Her eyes scanned the room like a mother surveying the clutter on a table. She hadn’t wanted to truly look, but she did nonetheless. “Anybody seen Stew?”  She scanned again while yawning, and then spoke.   “Can’t find him. Try again later.”

The rest of this story can be found in the book Everyday Aspergers

© 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

Song to go with found here.

Day 151: The Quiet Room

| Aspergers Girls

After yesterday’s post I feel like my panties are dangling down around my ankles. Feeling fully exposed here. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of what I shared. Long past those emotions. I am human and have had hard times, like us all. But I feel a bit naked in my exposure of self, having had shared such a vital part of my life without much explanation.

I think it is important to understand that at the time of my nervous breakdown I had been on a low dose anti-depressant to control my chronic muscle pain. The medication entirely numbed me emotionally for years. I lived very much like a robot. I couldn’t cry even when I was sad. And I couldn’t feel the depths of my experience. I was in less pain, but had no emotions. I was numb in all aspects.

Being numb to myself had major drawbacks. I didn’t have an off button, or anything to balance my actions. Feeling nothing, I had no way of checking in with myself. I no longer knew exhaustion. I gradually became an over-achieving, control freak. Eventually, I started to despise more and more of who I was, and recognized the real me was covered and masked underneath. I decided, without consulting anyone and without being aware of the dangers, to stop my anti-depressant. In my eyes the drug was serving as a painkiller and little more. I didn’t understand that in stopping the prescription that my brain chemistry would go all haywire.

Within days of stopping, my appetite came back so strongly that I couldn’t stop eating. I gained five pounds in two days. And much worse, my serotonin levels plummeted making everything look bleak. And my emotions, they returned in a mad rush. I felt like I was opening a  storm door of emotions that had all been hidden in an expansive closet for half a decade.

After several weeks, I couldn’t stand the intensity of emotions and my huge appetite—I could actually taste life and food again but was out of control—so I started back on the medication. Reintroducing the anti-depressant into my system led to suicidal thoughts. This is when I ended up in the admissions to the psychiatry ward. I’m not saying the medication caused my breakdown but it definitely altered my brain chemistry enough to push me over the edge.

The Quiet Room

After two colored pills, I entered the last room at the end of the hall. Muffled snores, bleach, staleness—each welcomed me.

I found my bed.  I pulled off my sweatshirt and spread it across the pillow.

Darkness.

I stared up at the shadowed ceiling.

There was no sleeping.

As midnight approached, I stepped through the vacant corridor, light and clumsy, like a puppet pulled by a master puppeteer.  “I can’t sleep in there,” I mumbled, looking at the nurse’s wide forehead.  “I can’t sleep with a stranger in my room.”  I lowered my eyes to her white shoes, long laces, scuffed toes.

The nurse looked me over with a cynical smile.  “What are you afraid of?”

I felt a punch to my stomach.  “I just can’t sleep in there,” I answered.

Huffing, the nurse pulled down her glasses. “Fine, come with me, then.”

I padded down the hall, thinking I might fall down, hoping I would wake up, knowing this was surely hell.  The tall nurse stopped.  She edged her eyes around me, trying to see inside.  “You can stay in the Quiet Room for the night.  But it’s not where you are supposed to be.”

Chastised, I didn’t move.  I knew this wasn’t where I was supposed to be.  None of this place was where I was supposed to be.  She didn’t know me…

The rest of this story can be found in the book Everyday Aspergers.

 

Day 117: A Body of True Confessions

| Aspergers Girls

(This post used to have photos of me. They have been removed by me. Hope you find the post useful.)

This is me HAPPY. This is my real smile caught by camera. I just found out the frozen banana bread ice-cream sandwich was going to be dipped in chocolate! That’s me in a nutshell. Give me chocolate and I forget everything else.

We have returned from Maui. And I am sorting through photos. I HATE  don’t care for photos of me.  I never ever feel like a photo looks like me. I see myself in parts, not in whole. So I see my nose, or the wrinkles around my brow, or the sun spot on my forehead, or the many other “flaws” that jump out at me. I tell myself I should look better. That I need to change. That I’ve aged. And so on….

No picture I have ever taken looks like how I see myself. And in every photo, I look so different (to me).

I get super depressed when I go through vacation photos, because I think I look absolutely terrible. I don’t think it’s a vanity thing. It really is not having a clue what I look like or understanding the image I am looking at. I try to tell myself positive messages, but somehow the messages get all twisted.

And then I get a host of negative messages, such as: “You need to lose fifteen more pounds. Imagine what you looked like before you lost those ten pounds. You are so HEAVY.” I tell myself horrible things, like: “Oh, your husband probably hated to take this photo of you, knowing you are starting to look soooo old.”

I’ve partaken in this negative self-talk, since puberty. Before then, I could care less. I had a huge overbite and a chipped front tooth, and would smile like I was a movie star. Something changed with puberty. Something changed when I realized people judge on appearances.

Thing is, I don’t notice the physical “flaws” in other people. When I look at their photos I see pure beauty. I see their essence. I think all people are beautiful. But I still get so terribly down on myself.

Posting photos of me on this blog is HUGE for me. Of course, I went through and cursed a dozen or so shots, before choosing the ones I felt safe to post.

Often, after a few years pass, I can look back on a photo, and see more of me. I can appreciate the happiness I had during the photo and see less of the flaws. I tell myself: “Why were you so hard on yourself. You’re sweet and kind. And you look absolutely fine!”

I’m hoping, this time, it won’t take a few years. I don’t know why the passing of time helps to view myself, but it does somehow.

I tell myself, I ought to be happy I can take a decent photo with little to no makeup on and my hair barely brushed, if brushed at all. I tell myself that everyone ages, that no one is perfect, that my distinct characteristics make me ME! But the talking doesn’t help. The negative thoughts come back full force. It really is a curse.

I don’t like worrying about how I look to other people. And I certainly don’t like worrying about how I look to me!

I’m putting this out there to help myself. To share my deepest thoughts, and in so doing release some of the associated doubts and deep-seeded fear. Heck! I just returned from one of the BEST VACATIONS in my life. Probably THE BEST, and I’m fretting over how ugly I am, telling myself I ought not go out in the world and be seen in public! It’s very, very ridiculous.

Maybe part of it is not having had a father who ever hugged me, called me pretty, or said he loved me. Could be that my father is so heavily into fitness, always firm and muscular, always concerned about his looks, that when I see me, I feel rather inadequate.

Could be, too, that it’s how my brain works. I know other people with Aspergers that see things in parts and have a hard time seeing the whole. Maybe seeing myself in parts, scrambles my beauty in my head. Sort of like seeing a lovely Black Beauty Horse cut and dissected into pieces on a platter. I think that’s what I do: Dissect and pull apart so that nothing remains but broken slabs of me.

Here is a list of what I feel uncomfortable about me:

1) Since my mid-twenties my arms have been thicker than I’d like, heavy and wide compared to other people my size. I have to be a size 2, seriously, for my arms to appear skinny. My husband says its proportional to my chest and that I have a swimmer’s body; another friend calls me ‘healthy.’ I don’t like either one of those observations, and would much prefer to have skinny arms! Skinny arms fits my personality. I see myself as petite, like a fairy. No fairies have a swimmer’s back.

2) I have incorrect posture. So does my son with Aspergers. It is hard for me to stand fully erect. I look funny, to me, when I stand up tall. I don’t know how to stand without feeling unnatural and in an awkward position. To protect myself from others, I have always hunched. I feel safer hunched. My posture makes me appear odd looking in photos. Same with my hands and arms. I don’t know where to put them in photos. And my smile….I never know what a real smile looks like.

3) My skin used to be perfect. I was very lucky. I looked like those kids in the suntan advertisements. Lots of California sun changed that. Now I’m spotted like a spotted lizard. This spots jump out at me in photos, as does every freckle, marking, mole, and “imperfection.” As I age, day by day, more markings appear. I don’t like to watch my skin change. It bothers me to no end.

4) My Italian nose will forever haunt me. I have tried to love it, truly. And it didn’t seem to get in the way of attracting previous mates; however, my nose is all I see in photos when I first look. That’s why I like far away shots. My nose looks cute if I’m standing back about five blocks!

5) My eyes. I’ve always loved my eyes. But now they appear sunken and old. Like I’m twenty years older than I am. Maybe that’s because I still feel like a teenager inside. But outside someone has redecorated, and I’m not too impressed.

6) My chin. At some angles, I look like I have three, and can’t tell where my neck ends and my face begins. I have a very prominent chin. My son’s orthodontist complimented my bone structure. Maybe if the whole world were orthodontists, I’d be set. I see a witches chin. The witch that has the house fall on her. I want to be the good witch. Luckily I have no warts or hair growing out of moles.

7) Sadness. Sometimes in photos I look very sad or even angry. It’s not how I’m feeling. I don’t feel irritated or melancholy, but I look like someone either just said something to piss me off or just told me my cat died. I try to look like me, and have no clue how to. It’s very frustrating. Sometimes I over smile so people will know I’m happy. Then my husband says: Don’t smile so intensely. Often my eyes bug out, if I’m trying too hard to smile.

8) My hair. It has a life of its own. I never know what to expect. My hair looks the best in the bathroom mirror, and as soon as I step outside the bathroom, my hair changes. I swear it does! Perhaps it is the lighting and the shadows, as my hair appears entirely different in every photo.

9) Shadows and lighting. The lighting of a photo changes how I appear to me. Sometimes I appear swollen or shrunken; other times expanded, elongated, and downright horrific to look at. I want to carry around a perfect lighting bulb above me, like a photographer. I have not posted the photos of me that make me look like I’m a marshmallow, that make my face appear shrunken into itself, and that show I’ve been tattooed with wrinkles. But they exist.

10) Ghastly spider veins. I’ve inherited those creepy little bluish-red lines that decorate my knees and thighs. I think I have as many as most people approaching their eighties. They are truly icky. I press on them and they magically disappear for ten seconds. My husband says that’s not what men are looking at. I don’t really care what men are looking at! I care what I’m looking at. And spider veins are not beautiful. I once read that a lady had lost a lot of function in her legs (mobility) and that she would do anything to have legs that moved well. She said who cared about spider veins. She’d be thankful to have any functioning legs. Reading information like that only makes me feel extremely guilty for not appreciating what I have. Then I just beat myself up more.

To be fair, I do like my eyebrows, my hair color, my teeth, my neck, the bottom half of my legs, and my toes. So that’s a good start, I suppose.

My Biggest Fear……That I will be too ugly to be loved. That’s it! I said it. It haunts me day and night. I feel so beautiful and light-filled inside, but I am afraid the outside will scare people away. It’s silly, I suppose, but it is how I feel. I don’t want to grow old. I don’t want to watch myself change. I don’t like change!!! I want to live a long life, but I want to freeze my appearance. I don’t know how to handle my body shifting. I don’t want to be one of those plastic surgery ladies or Botox queens, but I want to be able to look at a photo and see me.

Wine tasting, and what am I thinking. Oh, I look terrible in this photo. Notice how I chopped my arm out of the photo. Huge stress line on forehead, spotted arm, pointy chin….Gag me. I’m so super self-conscious and critical. If only this were a redeeming quality.

Almost didn’t post this because of my nose wrinkles. I secretly want you to think I’m 20. I had my kids at the age of 6! I’m such a goof-head. Someone change my brain, please!!!

I see big nose, forehead wrinkles, and fat face. This is what I see. I want to see friendship, love, and happiness. But I think: I wonder why my friend likes me when I am ugly. Yes, this is sad, but this is truth.

I love this picture. This is truly me HAPPY. Right before I surfed. My arms are covered so I feel safer. And this is one cool dude!

I like this photo because I’m far enough away that my nose looks cute and you can’t see my wrinkles! Maybe I’ll just stay a distance away from people. Of course, I see my flabby arms and my double chin and my pointy little ear. But my teeth look white!

I’m crying streams of tears. This is beneficial. This is healing. I’ve told my secrets. They shall no longer haunt me!

Day 116: My Last Day

| Aspergers Girls

As this is my last day in Maui, I am thinking upon the lyrics of Nickelback’s song: If Today Was Your Last Day. I am meditating on each and every word.

While taking my walk on the beach this morning, while photographing the abundance of nature, while packing, while driving, and while stepping on the plane, I will be holding these lyrics in my heart and mind.

I have, for many years, been living each moment like it was my last. However, I was living from a fear-based approach. Negativity swamped my mind. Today was my last day because I was slowly dying. Today was my last day because I might not live to see tomorrow. Today was my last day because I was afraid to live.

I walked Dead Man’s Beach. I thought of every worse case scenario. I remained careful and cautious. I didn’t reach out like my heart called me to reach out. I didn’t have fun because the fun inspired fear of loss. I didn’t risk, because risk meant danger.

I had been living like my last day entirely upside down and backwards. Fear consumed me. Everything measured by fear. Everything judged against worse case events. Everything absorbed into this shadowed light.

image found http://www.geekshow

I don’t want to be on my death-bed with regrets of having not lived. I don’t want to live another day worried and harboring deep seeded anxiety. I want to live. And I shall.

I shall carry the healing waters of this tropical island back home with me to the state of Washington. I shall continue risking. I shall continue surfing the waves. I shall stand straight and paddle across the seas. I shall dive deep and swim with the beauty beneath. I shall speak my truth to those I hold so dearly in my heart. I shall speak my truth to myself.

I shall hold my own hand and walk forward, seeking adventure and joy instead of a prison of safety. I have lived so very, very long in captivity that the thought alone of running free is powerful.

Today is my last day in Maui but it is the first day I return home reborn into hope and the wonderful possibilities of life.

Nickelback

 If Today Was Your Last Day

My best friend gave me the best advice

He said each day’s a gift and not a given right

 Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind

And try to take the path less traveled by

That first step you take is the longest stride

If today was your last day

And tomorrow was too late

Could you say goodbye to yesterday?

Would you live each moment like your last?

 Leave old pictures in the past

Donate every dime you have?

 If today was your last day

Against the grain should be a way of life

What’s worth the prize is always worth the fight

 Every second counts ’cause there’s no second try

So live like you’ll never live it twice

Don’t take the free ride in your own life

If today was your last day

And tomorrow was too late

Could you say goodbye to yesterday?

Would you live each moment like your last?

Leave old pictures in the past

Donate every dime you have?

Would you call old friends you never see?

Reminisce of memories

Would you forgive your enemies?

Would you find that one you’re dreamin’ of?

Swear up and down to God above

That you finally fall in love

If today was your last day

If today was your last day

Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?

 You know it’s never too late to shoot for the stars

Regardless of who you are So do whatever it takes

‘Cause you can’t rewind a moment in this life

Let nothin’ stand in your way

Cause the hands of time are never on your side

If today was your last day

And tomorrow was too late

Could you say goodbye to yesterday?

Would you live each moment like your last?

Leave old pictures in the past

Donate every dime you have?

Would you call old friends you never see?

Reminisce of memories

Would you forgive your enemies?

Would you find that one you’re dreamin’ of?

Swear up and down to God above

That you finally fall in love

If today was your last day