491: Standards: A Long Time Coming


I love how in life, messages, like the quote above, come to me at the perfect time. I have had a hellish year. I avoid that word, but in this case it’s the most effective descriptor I can find. I shall counter balance it with my giddy spirit and lots of love! I promise. Plus better to face the truth of events and be done with it. Gather the happenings under my hemline, sit with them, and then release. Like a whoopee cushion.


I have reclaimed and re-found my giddy self that was lost about this time last year with the onset of the first of many challenging events. The little-happy-loving girl in me went into hiding, for the most part, and became the fierce warrior she needed to be. I can’t say I enjoyed myself much at all in the last twelve months, except in brief moments, in between the intervals of extreme spiritual, mental, and physical exhaustion.

A lot happened that I won’t go into, as I steer away from discussing others’ personal lives, beyond my own. But on the scale of stressful life occurrences, you know those common stressors, well let me just say I encountered many; if not in full, than to the point of hovering around at the perimeters of the feasible happenings.

Limbo is a great word to describe where I have been for a year.

One of the greatest benefits of this recent journey is I have ended up with a vast understanding of what I will and will not put up with in regards to befriending others. It took me long enough to figure this understanding of ‘standards’ out! Over four decades to be precise.

Here is what I now know of MY STANDARDS:

First off:

It’s okay not to like someone and choose not to associate with that person. This is not a reflection on me as a person. It does not mean I am impatient, imperfect, or have a low tolerance. It does mean that I am recognizing my comfort-zone. I am not recognizing limitations. There is nothing limiting about me. I am setting boundaries with people who affect my energy to a degree where it affects other areas of my life and my interactions with loved ones.

Because I have this capacity to see into people, to read people at a psychological and/or spiritual level, I tend to steer right passed what is blatantly infront of me (addictions, abusive behaviors towards me, RED FLAGS, HUGE RED FLAGS) and forgive someone of EVERYTHING, upon initial meeting, and continually, as needed. I will forget about a person’s current negative behavior, rationalize his/her actions, or not even notice danger signs or the fact that I am extremely uncomfortable with him/her.

I understand now that I cannot help nor connect with everyone. I know, it sounds ridiculous. But sometimes those of us with huge hearts get a bit askew in regards to reality. In truth, some people are, excuse my language, really messed up.

Some people are just too far beyond my capacity to sort out. Not that I have super powers or anything, not that I am a fixer or helper. But because I am kind and open-minded, I sometimes fool myself into thinking I can be friends with anyone. While I think I can feasibly see the light and potential in most, I certainly don’t need to take on someone who substantially drains the living life blood out of me! There are crazy, really crazy, people out there who will harm me, if given the chance. I need to bind myself to this idea, and face that reality.

It’s okay to have standards! (repeat three times)

STANDARDS for a person I choose to associate with:

1) Not delusional

2) Predictable and Reliable

3) Apologetic when aware he/she has trespassed against someone

4) Vibrate at beneficial energetic level most of the time; I know not all people crave this, but I know myself

5) Honest, trustworthy, has integrity, non-manipulative, etc.

6) Not sexually intrusive or acting perverted

7) Doesn’t demean a gender, sect, denomination, or creed

8) Loves him or herself, and, if not, is self-aware enough to work on getting to this place

9) KIND, KIND, KIND; this means they don’t have ANGER issues. I do not like people who blame, judge, or point fingers. And that’s okay. I can be kind but not fond of people. I can love but don’t have to include everyone in my life.

10) Doesn’t disappear and abandon our relationship over and over; I don’t care what the reason, I don’t want or need that in my life.

11) Cares about self and other people

12) Avoids passive-aggressive behavior

13) Doesn’t use body, sexuality, or images of self in attempt to get what he/she wants

14) Has looked at their issues; isn’t perfect, is even far from perfect, but is self-aware and willing to work on betterment

15) Doesn’t suck my energy, use me in any way, or expect things of me beyond basics (like similar things as listed on this list)

16) Truth seeker

17) Non-clingy

18) Doesn’t do either of these extremes: worship me (put me on pedestal) or degrade me (criticize me in attempt to feel better about him or herself). I don’t want to be on someone’s mind ALL the time. I want him or her to have a life. And I don’t want to be the object of desire or loathing.

19) Doesn’t monopolize my time and attention

20) Has something to offer. I am not picky. I mean a smiling face and a good heart is a fine offering.

Day 112: Collapsed Star

Collapsed Star

It was an ordinary night for a child who had grown accustomed to the unordinary.  My dog Justice trembled under the bed, while Led Zeppelin vibrated through the wall.  Inside the sheets, all wrapped up in Mother’s essence of bath oil and sandalwood, I tossed and turned.  Then I laid listless and awake—a lump of boredom. I could smell the funny smoke again and hear bottles clinking.

I pleaded with God, “Please make the people go away.”

All at once, a melodic voice called out, “Hello, Little Girl.”

But I knew the voice wasn’t God.

I was certain my God didn’t have a Jamaican accent and dreadlocks.  “We didn’t know you were in here, Pretty Lady.  I’m sorry if we woke you,” the stranger apologized, as he approached Mother’s bed.

I leaned over casually on my arm, wanting to seem mature and interesting enough to earn his attention. “You didn’t wake me,” I responded, with a fake yawn, tapping my little chin with my tiny fingers a few times.  I was accustomed to seeing strangers in the house, but not at my bedside.  Still, I wasn’t nervous in the slightest degree. I’d liked meeting Mother’s friends. They were all interesting in that odd way…


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


Based on true events © 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 Thirteen: The Jokes on Me


It’s well known that people with Asperger’s are sometimes a bit gullible, especially when it comes to jokes. Here’s a special story for Day Thirteen…my absolutely favorite number in all the universes! Good to balance the deep and profound with some light-hearted laughter, every now and again. Enjoy.

I was a bit naïve when I was a young adult, very gullible, and easily confused by jokes. Those were my vulnerable-gentle years, where I feared life more than explored, and often hid in the house afraid of the stream of emotions I experienced when I was around others. This isn’t to say I didn’t appear normal. I was a good actress, after all.

While walking one summer day on the sidewalks of my suburban town with my dear college friend Jodie, my gullibility shined bright. We were newly friends then (soon to be best friends), with so much to learn about one another. I remember the exact place we were on our path, when Jodie fooled me. I remember because, even now, I still chuckle about the event.

During our stroll Jodie informed me that she was from Washington. On hearing her pronounce the word Washington, with a tongue-rolling r-sound (Warshington), I laughed. Jodie guffawed, raising her brow, as if I’d done something entirely incorrect and worth admonishing. “Why are you laughing?” she asked.

“Well,” I stammered. Not sure what to think of this inquiry. “I just thought it was funny the way you said Washington. How you made it sound like it has the letter r—there’s no r in Washington.”

Jodie was unmoved in her expression, if anything she appeared more stern. “What do you mean?” she asked. She hit her thigh slightly, and the crease of a grin edged upward on one side of her face. I watched with curiosity. Jodie continued: “Oh, you think I meant Washington D.C. No. No. No. I’m talking about the state of Washington. The one up north. You know there is a difference, don’t you?” Jodie faced me with a full smile, reading me with her green eyes.

I shrugged my slight shoulders, and debated about what to say. Before I could speak, Jodie continued. “Don’t you know the state of Washington is spelled with an r?” She spelled it out slowly and surly: W-a-r-s-h-i-n-g-t-o-n. And she said it again, but this time super slowly: “Warsh-ing-ton!”

I blinked quickly. “What? No, it isn’t,” I answered, with my trademark nervous giggle.

Jodie continued, stating her case in a matter-of-fact way. She was so sure of herself. So confident. So…..so…..experienced! I reasoned I’d always been a bad speller, mixing up letters, omitting consonants and vowels, why not now? And here Jodie stood, from the state of Washington; she’d had to know what she was talking about. Didn’t she?

Jodie continued. “A lot of people get the two Washingtons mixed up.” She winked.

“Oh, wow!” I said, feeling a bit relieved that I wasn’t the only one who’d mistaken the spelling. “I never realized that.” I breathed in, evaluating Jodie’s expression. She seemed pleased with herself, but there was this awful silence. I quickly added, trying to save face, “Good thing to know, since I’m going to be a school teacher.” With my last words, I settled back into the walk, glad to be corrected, and thinking more on my tanned legs than anything that had verbally transpired. It was nice having an intelligent friend.

Jodie nodded her head in agreement, and picked up the pace of our walk. She held her silence for some time, at least a few blocks, before, after a brief moment of noise that sounded like a toad caught in her throat, Jodie broke out in a husky, rip-roaring laughter. “Oh, Honey,” she said. “I can’t make you go on thinking that.”  She laughed some more, trying to catch her breath. “It was a joke. You were right before.  There is no r.  It’s just the way I pronounce it.”  She laughed some more. Her face equally as red as mine.

I took a second to evaluate the situation, before busting up myself and shaking my head in disbelief.