Day 219: Between the Poopies and the Poppies

(There was a previous photo of me going into an outhouse. lol)

I didn’t actually go into the outhouse. It’s like my least favorite place in the world. I prefer bushes. And I don’t poop. I’m a princess, and princesses don’t poop.

*

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California Golden Poppy by Sam Craft

~~~~~~~

This is me thinking I am standing up straight. I have no idea what I look like most of the time. Am I a bendy doll? Now I’m starting to realize why guys might think I want their number.

Between the Poopies and the Poppies

I have a difficult time understanding the middle ground.

I am at one extreme or the other.

I am a prude or I am sexy.

I am trying whole heartedly or I give up.

I am excited or I am bored.

I am starving or I have no appetite.

I hyper extend my body backwards or I hunch forward.

I  smile huge or I frown deep.

I  have extreme hope or I have extreme sorrow.

I feel joy or I feel agony.

I think I’m cute enough or I believe I’m too ugly to leave the house.

I worry obsessively or I let everything go.

I am overly fatigued or I have extreme energy.

I  cling or I walk away.

I smoother another or I want nothing to do with a person.

I overshare or I clam up.

I’m talkative or I want complete silence.

I obsess or I walk away in disinterest.

I am confident or I am insecure.

I like myself or I hate myself.

I’m trying to find that middle ground, somewhere between the poopies and poppies.

Between the crap and the sunshine.

Between the stench and sweetness.

Between the ugly and the beauty.

I just don’t know how to get there.

Day 205: What my Husband Hears

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

Day 204: F*** the Dark Voice

F*** the Dark Voice

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

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

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

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

But you’re not, not worth the hate

I wouldn’t decorate you with the compliment

You foul creature I despise

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

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

That no one can reach

You hide in not existing

You hide in not being there

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

You don’t even know me

But I think you do

You can’t even see me

But I think you can

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

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

I would admire you with fear and disgust

And that is what you wish

That is what you ingest

Complete fear and disgust

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

To fear my own body, my own form

Because you are jealous in your non-existence

If you could extinguish me, you can then live

But I laugh at you, you creeping ghost of dark

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

Take you out before your spindly tentacles reach me

And I shall shine upon your evil breath

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

And we together shall rise and wash you out

No matter you are invisible and dark

No matter you are unreachable

We shall find you in our souls and bleed you out

And feed you to the tigers of fish

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

Be gone great master of trickery and ghastly thoughts

Be gone all of your ways that torment this being

For I am no longer alone

And my light multiplied shall corrupt your plans

And leave you helpless, spineless and begging for mercy

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

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

And find ourselves staring back with the tender longing for love

~~~~

Samantha Craft, August 2012

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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