525,600 Minutes.

I know I'm a little late with this but, it's January. The year 2014. Happy New Year. I feel like I skipped right over the "changing of the year", and I guess I did. It feels weird because it's supposed to be a big deal or something, but I guess it's not really a big deal at all. What is a big deal is that a whole year has passed in what feels like a blink of an eye. How does that happen?

It was a year ago, almost exactly, that I brought up the subject of Jack and Aspergers, (for the third time in his life). It was a year ago that I set out to read everything I could get my hands on to educate myself on the condition. To date I've read at least 20 books, countless blogs,  watched movies, documentaries, TED talks, and set up camp at YouTube. I even branched off, learning more about Introverts, gifted children, and the HSP.  I'd say I covered my bases.  And it was nearly a year ago that I stumbled upon what seemed like a tribe of women who's experiences and difficulties were mirror images of my own. Many of whom had children with Asperger Syndrome and later received the diagnosis themselves. This discovery sent me off on another quest for information and I suppose you could say it became a special interest. 

It's been a long, and mostly solitary, journey.  A journey that initially started out of worry and fear, but eventually evolved into a journey of self discovery, self-acceptance, and self regulation. The journey is far from over, but I can say with certainty that I no longer feel the same sense of dread that I did a year ago.  I still fear some things, but I'm no longer afraid  for my child.  I'm no longer afraid that he may have Aspergers. I've gained a much better understanding of him and myself, and while I know that he will struggle, I know that he will be okay too. I haven't said too much here about Jack's father, but if I had any money at all I would wager it all that he, himself, is also an Aspie. I have no doubts. In fact, I believe that was what initially attracted me to him in the first place. I had an overwhelming feeling that I had  "found my people." Even years before we got together, I remember his then girlfriend telling me, "he's just like you. he's like the male version of you". And it was true in many ways. Not all, but many. It wasn't enough, obviously, to sustain a relationship, but even now, I know he "gets it", when so many other people don't. In spite of all of this knowing, none of us has received a formal diagnosis at this point. My doctor, through my own therapy and the information I've shared about Jack, has taken to referring to us as neurodiverse.  (You can read John Elder Robinson's take on Neurodiversity here.) That's as formal as we've gotten, and so long as there are no major problems or services needed, that may be as formal as we get. Time will tell. I've gotten more comfortable with ignoring the "early diagnosis is crucial" cries from the Medical Profession. Throughout this process I've found more helpful advice from Autistic individuals themselves than I did from any Medical Professional that does not have Autism. And lets face it, it's too late for an early diagnosis. It's too late for the no eye contact, flappy, toe walking diagnosis. That stuff doesn't happen anymore. Not often anyway so they would never be able to see it. 

So where do we go from here? I don't know. I guess we keep learning, keep discovering, keep accepting and most importantly we keep self regulating. We treat the comorbid symptoms. Primarily the anxiety, OCD tendencies, and rigid thinking. While I'm still having some difficulty with all of those things, my son, is learning quickly, but then again, he's not an Old Dog like me.  

I feel good about where he is today versus where he was a year ago. I find it funny sometimes when someone makes a comment about his behavior, like..."is that healthy for him to spend so much time doing that?"  I know it's usually out of concern, but what's funny is it's always from the same people that don't really accept Aspergers as the reasoning behind it. It reminds me of when I was a child and I would hear... there's nothing wrong with her...along with the conflicting...that's not normal. People are funny. And sometimes infuriating. 

So, a year after this blog post , what is Jack like today?

Jack...

Is obsessed with LEGO'S and is determined to become a Lego Designer.

Is more adventurous with trying new foods, but will latch onto a certain food for weeks. Occasionally he will drop a food from his diet and not want it again. Ever.

I don't see much toe walking but have noticed the flapping returns sometimes. 

Still a nail peeler, but has started using a stress ball, especially when angry.

Still constantly singing and humming movie theme songs or T.V. jingles or making sound effects. Constantly. Did I mention it was Constantly? He also nails the tune.

When he draws it's not just one picture...he goes through 10 or more pages making one after the other. He also draws with detail and perspective.

Still prefers video games and electronics and Lego's to playing outside or with other people. At nine he still does not know how to ride a bike and has no interest in learning.

If he's not playing a video game he has Lego's in hands (constantly) making sound effects. 

Doesn't like to have to go anywhere. Would rather stay home. Doesn't like his routine interrupted, but can sometimes deal with it without tears.

Rarely has to be disciplined. Once he knows the rules he sticks to them and would like for everyone else to as well.

Is heartbroken if he does happen to do something wrong.

Has minimal anxiety about going to school. Usually only on Mondays or after a vacation. (routine interuptus) The rest of the week, though, he dives into his routine and has been all smiles. He sets his alarm for 5:30am so he does not have to rush and has time to play in the morning. He has also become a multi-tasker by using his bus ride to do homework. These are things he's initiated on his own with no help from me.

He still would like things to be perfect but, is more accepting of making mistakes than he ever was. Only breaks down occasionally.

Seems to have a lot of empathy/sympathy and cries easily over real or imaginary sadness

Has developed an obsession with watching YouTube videos. Mostly of other people playing video games. He will also watch Sponge Bob in Spanish.

Is very honest! Loves animals.

Quotes lines from movies or shows while playing.

Has taken to info-dumping, which basically means, when allowed, he will talk non-stop to me about a favorite subject, video game, Lego's or a world in his head. He could do this for an hour straight if I don't stop him.

Can be very literal and often looks to me for clarification. (was he joking?) He has learned to DO some sarcasm, but still doesn't know what it is. :)

Has started requiring alone time.

Has strabismus...little to no depth perception and is color blind.

Expresses his love for his immediate family often and easily.

Enjoys other children, laughs, is silly, but will often just watch them play and only engage in his own personal interests. Needs down time after playing with other kids for long periods of time. He's also starting to collect, and become more possessive with his "things."

Doesn't like sports. Doesn't want to be blamed for doing something wrong. Is only competitive against himself.

Will now only wear comfy pants. No jeans. No buttons. No zippers. Would stay in PJ's forever. :)

And there you have it. There is a lot that hasn't changed and some new behaviors that might be considered obsessive, especially by people with no attention span...but...and this is the most important part...if you read the previous list from last year, the changes that have occurred are all positive. Reduced Anxiety. Self-discovery. Self-acceptance. Self-regulation. 

Diagnosis or not, it's working. 

Hope, who would have appreciated more support when she started this journey, but knows now that she really didn't need it. Trust your instincts.

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99 Problems...#3...Social Interaction

After the Holiday madness festivities, I felt this was a fitting third problem. I know there has been a rather long gap, but rest assured, I have not run out of problems. I'm pretty sure I never will. 

This particular problem has been life long for me. If you're at all introverted you probably have it as well. It's not that I don't like social interaction per se. Sometimes I really do.  Sometimes I even look forward to it. Sometimes I even *gasp* enjoy it!  But I have rules. Not rules that are written out on a blackboard for all the world to see, but internal rules that I have to live by to maintain a psychological, emotional, and physical balance. If the rules are broken, I am broken as well. There is no "getting used to it". There is no adapting. There is no learning to like it, and certainly no "going with the flow". I've tried. Believe me, I. Have. Tried. But even as far back as I can remember, I had rules. I may not have known why back then. I may not have realized that in following them I was maintaining a balance, but I was. It was almost instinctual. A survival mechanism. It's only during the last year or so of connecting the dots, that I was able to...connect the dots. I am now fully aware of why I need this structure and I'm also fully aware of what happens when I don't get it. 

So, what are my rules of social interaction?

First and foremost, it has to be a PLAN. I have to know in advance that it is coming and I have to ready myself for it. I have to prepare, maybe even rehearse. I have to run scenarios through my head and figure out the solutions to said scenarios IN ADVANCE, just in case, you know, they happen. Spur of the moment, last minute social interaction is one of the most anxiety inducing experiences of my life. I don't like it. I don't see that changing. Randomly running into people is a nightmare. If I see you, but you don't see me, I'm going to duck down that other aisle and hide.

Second, I have to STICK to the PLAN. Change is bad. Change is bad. Change is bad. Can I rationalize the fact that Change isn't really all bad? Sure. Can I make myself believe it down to my core? No. I can not. For me, even changes need to be PLANNED, prepared for, rehearsed. This is why I can and have made some rather BIG changes in my life. Changes that left people shaking their heads in disbelief. But I planned for it. Probably for years. And I controlled it. So...yeah. If there is a plan, lets just go on and follow through with it, shall we?

Third, I have to space it out. Too much in a short period of time will cause me to feel overwhelmed, emotionally melt down, and leave me unable to even identify my own feelings. Instead of being able to step back and say, I'm overwhelmed, I'm tired, I'm confused...I end up with only one dominant thought/feeling/emotion, or whatever it is, and that is..."I  hate everyone." I don't have an answer to why this happens and why that is my default, but it is and well, that just turns me into a Bitch. Space it out. No two days in a row. This also applied to the younger bar hopping years. 

Fourth, I need my recovery time, or "breaks". While spacing out the social interaction, the time in between has to be what I consider recharging. For me, that means a quiet external world and a good amount of alone time. This, I've come to realize, is one of the MOST important things I need in my life. Even if the "social interaction" only involves an hour visit with a friend. I'm still working on fitting this step into my life and not feeling bad about it. For years I would omit it because it felt selfish, or other people would say it's "unhealthy" to spend too much time alone. It felt like wanting it or needing it was somehow wrong. Like I was somehow wrong. Then I had a child and well, we all know how much alone time that allows for. But now, finally, I'm ready to take it back on the premise that EVERYONE, no just myself, will benefit from it. If I'm balanced, trust me, I will be so much more pleasant to be around. 

And there you have it. A complete over analyzing of One simple problem. There is also a fifth unofficial rule, but listing it would make me feel like an alcoholic....

Needless to say, our recent Holiday craziness left little room for all the rules in my head. I tried to keep a balance and I did make my own plans that included parties and recovery time. But last minute changes and a last minute party threw me into a panic. I'm still not over it.  Basically I just had to get through it, which sucks because I really wanted to be able to enjoy it. I'm on my way back to balance now. I'll be getting back my alone time next week, but seriously sometimes it gets bad. I don't think the average person would understand exactly how bad. If I get too overwhelmed and too knocked off my axis I start questioning everything. I question the existence of other people in my life. I question whether its worth it. I'm sure that seems extreme to anyone that doesn't live in my head, but again, it's a survival mechanism. It just kicks in when needed. 

I'm not sure if there is a solution to this problem, but I do think I can manage it in a way that keeps me balanced and keeps the people in my life out of the line of fire. It will, however, involve me saying no, when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that whatever it is...it is too much. It's a new year. It's worth a try.

Hope, who wishes you all, all the wishes you wish. Have a happy 2014, or at the very least a manageable one.

What I did at Summer Camp.

One my goals in taking my Facebook hiatus was to find more time, and to use some of that time for more writing. Again, I'm not sure what it will amount to if anything and right now they're just little snippets of a whole picture.

This past week was Jack's Tennis Camp, which went a lot better than expected, and I'm proud to say he completed the week and can now hit a Tennis ball. Sort of. The beginning of the week, however, was tough and I give his father all the credit for pulling him through this one. He was patient, understanding, and stayed the whole three hours at a camp that was drop off and pick up. The Instructors also deserve some credit for recognizing his need for one on one instruction and some alone time practice. Once he knew what he was supposed to do and was allowed to do it, on his own, his comfort level increased dramatically and he was able to join the group and actually enjoy himself. It's amazing what a little understanding and adjustment can do.

The whole experience and the words that my son was saying at the beginning of the week sent me back thirty something years to my own experience with Camp, so I decided to write about it and share it here. It's been an experience that stuck with me and writing it out was not only therapeutic but also eye opening. Enjoy! Or not...

Summer Camp

One summer, back when I was seven, my then foster mother came up with the bright idea to send me to camp. It was the YMCA Day Camp and it was only for a week. At least I think it was only for a week. In any case, that was the length of time I went. I’m sure she must have been thinking something like, “Well, now I have a child. It’s summer time. What do you do with a child in the summer? I know! You send her to camp!”

Camp. A supposedly fun filled, noisy place where I could run and swim and play sports and be competitive and learn skills and socialize.  A perfectly logical choice for any normal little girl, I suppose. Only I wasn’t any normal little girl. People said I was shy, but it was more than that. I could barely run, and certainly not fast.  I could not swim. I didn’t and hadn’t ever in my life played a sport. I wasn’t the least bit competitive. I had no desire to learn these skills, and I lacked the ability and the voice to socialize with people I didn’t know. Surely someone else in my life must have known all of this besides me. I can almost hear them now. "It will help to bring her out of her shell..." This was a phrase I had heard often, and it made me wonder if they thought I was a turtle, or perhaps a clam. In my mind I saw the image of a large seashell strapped to my back so it looked as if I had wings. I liked the image and didn’t see any reason why they would want me to come out of that shell.

The truth was, I was perfectly happy in my “shell”. It was where I felt most comfortable and safe. There was no need to try to pry me out of it. The truth is, even today, at the age of forty-one it is still where I feel the most at ease. No amount of prying was ever going to turn me into anyone else. My shell is my home. Perhaps I am a turtle after all.

The first day of camp stands out more vividly than the rest. It started with a car ride to The Thunderbird Motel, which was where the bus would pick me up. I’m not sure if the word nervous can fully describe what I was feeling. I was nervous, that’s for sure, but it was more than that. My thoughts were racing, although they never dared to become actual words. And my thoughts were also pervasive. What will the bus look like? My school bus is yellow, but I rode a bus once that wasn’t yellow. When will it get here? Who will be on it? Kids on the yellow bus are mean, but there weren’t any kids on the other bus. Where will I sit? If it’s not a yellow bus I’ll have sit next to a strange man. How long will it take? I got sick on the other bus. If it’s not a yellow bus I’ll get sick on this bus. What if we get lost? What if I can’t find my way back?  Where do I go when we get there? Who will help me? What will they make me do? Will I be able to do it? I won’t be able to do it. They will be mad that I can’t swim. What will we play? When will we play? Where will I put my bag? When will I get there?  What if I can’t talk? They will get mad if I can’t talk. Will it be in the woods? How will I know what time it is? How will I know when to leave? How will I know the right bus?  And on and on it went. This, all before I even started my journey. I had no idea what to expect, and I needed to know what to expect. I also needed to know what was coming next and in the precise order it would come. I only had my past experience to rely on and believed if something happened once, it would happen, again and again and again. Life experience has since taught me that this isn’t necessarily true, however, I still can’t force my brain to believe it.

The bus ride ended up being the least of my worries, simply because I didn’t have to say anything to anyone. It was noisy, as all the other kids yelled rather than talked, but I managed to stare out the window and tune most of it out. The bus ride to and from would end up being the best part of the whole experience.

Once we arrived at the camp all of my racing thoughts and questions returned, along with my inability to speak above a whisper. “Speak up, Hope” was another commonly heard phrase, especially in School, in front a group, or with people I didn’t know.  I would try and try, but if I could get the words out at all, it was never above a whisper, and it hurt to try. It physically hurt. It’s only recently that I learned that there was an actual name for this. Selective Mutism. Eventually, this was something I grew out of. But even now my voice is the first thing to go when I’m extremely nervous. It’s as if I have a volume button the instantly turns down the moment I’m around unfamiliar people or places.

The Camp Counselors were lined up as we exited the bus, and although the process by which they determined which child belonged to which counselor is all a blur now, somehow, I ended up being assigned to one. To this day, I’m not completely certain I was ever even with the right group to begin with, as I was always the kid “left over”. The one without the partner, or the fifth wheel in a party of four. I was the quiet, blond haired, blue eyed, day dreamy little girl that completely went unnoticed.

Day one, for me, was a mess. It was complete and utter chaos and confusion, as we bounced from one noisy activity to the next. I was somewhat relieved when our first stop was to the locker room and I learned where to put my bag. I made a mental note of what building it was in and specifically what locker I had. I only had to count from the first locker to the left of the door. One, two ,three, four, five. Five. I had the fifth locker. If I knew nothing else, I knew where my bag was and how to get it.

The rest, however, when I remember it, resembles a dream. The kind of dream where nothing really makes sense and you’re always late, or running behind, and you’re trying your best to figure things out, but still have no idea what is going on. All of the other kids in my group seemed to have some kind of mental telepathy or super powers. They all knew what the others were doing without anyone ever having to speak the words. They all knew the rules to the games and how to hit the ball and in which direction to run. I knew none of this, and if anyone was explaining it, I certainly couldn’t make it out above the voices of chattering children. I remember trying to ask the counselor questions.  I remember standing by her side and waiting for her to notice that I was there. Most times she didn’t notice, and the times she did, she couldn’t hear me and would get annoyed. At least it seemed to me like she was getting annoyed. It seemed to me like I was doing everything wrong.

Lunch time that first day, was probably the longest half hour of my life. For reasons I will never comprehend, my foster mother, had completely missed the fact that she was supposed to pack me a lunch. A mistake that she would never make again, as I reminded her of it continuously for months after. While all the other children and counselors sat and ate their brown bagged lunches at the picnic tables scattered among the trees, I sat, alone. Eventually one of the adults noticed I had no lunch and gave me an orange. An orange that I couldn’t peel, as I had no finger nails. I did the best I could, but by this time lunch was almost over and I threw most of the orange in the trash.

Swimming came after lunch, which I thought was out of order because everyone always said to wait to go in the water after eating.  Because I didn’t actually know how to swim I was in the beginner group and I needed a partner. Most of the kids paired off immediately and the two girls I asked to be my partner decided to partner up themselves. The councilor ended up being my partner, which was fine with me because I figured she wouldn’t let me drown. I had fallen off a raft in an above ground pool at age five and was convinced that I had drowned once already. I wasn’t in a hurry to let that happen again.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with running races and mouthing the words to songs I didn’t know. The highlight of my day was heading back to the locker room, as I knew exactly where my bag was. One, two, three, four, five. The fifth locker. I was changed and ready before anyone else, wanting nothing more than to find my bus, where I could sit and stare out the window for the whole ride home. I remember I was in bed by 6pm that first night, out of complete exhaustion and overload. And I remember my foster mother commenting on how “All that fresh air must have tuckered her out.”  I had told her that I didn’t like it, and I remember thinking, why doesn’t she believe me?

The rest of the week, was much of the same, except that I had a lunch and could get out of having to talk by shoving food into my mouth. By the second to the last day a new girl, Linda, arrived, which gave me a partner finally, as all the others had pretty much stuck together. For some reason, she insisted on calling me Diana, and I let her. Linda and I were partners in swimming, the egg race and the three legged race. She was a bit bossy, but it made it easier to figure out what I was supposed to do. Linda and I didn’t sit together at lunch.

On the last day, as we were changing in the locker room, a pudgy little mean girl told me she hoped she would never see me again. I was completely shocked and was sure she was talking to someone else. I looked around me, but it became apparent that she was indeed talking to me. I’m not sure if it was because I knew it was the end of the last day, but somehow, I found my voice and told her “I was glad I never had to see her again.”  I wasn’t mean about it. In fact, I didn’t really even mean it as I had no idea who this girl was. Did she know me? Was she in my group? Did I know who was in my group? No. The truth was, I didn’t. I always knew where my group was because I had studied my counselors face and the length of her brown hair. I could recognize her and Linda. No one else. After spending an entire week with these kids I didn’t know any of them. I didn’t know what they looked like and I knew no ones name, except for the bossy little girl, that called me Diana.

Hope, who probably isn't really a turtle. 

Also, google drive can bite me.

A Weird Mind and Breaking up with Facebook

First off, if you'd like to read this entire post in a British accent, I won't stop you. I plan on writing it that way. I'm going to be jumping all around here, so I apologize but also urge you keep up.

Alright, a quick update regarding Youth Group. My boy persevered and conquered. I am very proud of him. It helped that most of the kids were younger. He didn't feel as intimidated and was able to relax and enjoy himself. So, yay!

I've mentioned in a previous post that I have Synesthesia, which is:  a neurological condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway. Thank you, Wikipedia.  Well, yesterday as we were driving my son says this : "I don't know why but in my brain, my favor color blue is seven. Reece's is six though. And eight is a pineapple and comes right after blue."  And there it is. He's mentioned a few things like this before but this was the first time he explained it with more detail. I, myself, have several different types, and never even realised until a few years back that this was not entirely normal. Hearing the "You're weird." comments from my own Mother wasn't that unusual, so I thought that it was only her that didn't experience this. She was weird. (Secretly, I still sometimes think that.)  I, personally,  love the fact that my child shares his "brain" with me, and weird or not, I love that I can understand it. Most of it anyway.

In other news, I woke up this morning to a rather annoying little whench (actually I don't think she was little at all) leaving nasty comments on the doll photos on my business Facebook page. It was really the first time (other than the one show I did) where someone, out and out, just said "yuck" in regards to my work. It's not the greatest feeling in the world, that's for sure, but I think I handled it well and in a professional (snarky) manner, resisting my urge to tell her to suck it.

While the incident itself was rather unimportant in the grand scheme of things, it got me thinking. Christ, not the thinking again. Sorry, it's how my mind works. While I'm not obsessing over it, I can't help but wonder why?  Yes, the everlasting, all encompassing Whys. I always need to know why. Why would someone take the energy and time  out of their day just to be nasty and hurtful?  She obviously wasn't there because she was enjoying herself. So why?  What is it that she accomplished or obtained by purposely leaving negative comments?  I can't figure it out, but I'm still thinking about it. I repeat, NOT obsessing. My personal thinking process may be a bit obsessive, I'll give you that. But it's simply how it all works. I need to make sense of things in my world to make sense of my world. If I can't it becomes very difficult to live in. I don't always find the answers, however, I don't think I ever stop looking for them.

And speaking of making sense of my world and difficulties, I think I mentioned previously that reducing stress and stressful situations was a top of my list. Step one on that list, I've decided, is to limit my access to Social Networking (aka Facebook). Social Networking is actually not even close to being the correct term anymore, as far as I'm concerned. There isn't much "networking" that goes on my personal page. In fact it's become more of a pain in the ass. More like, social avoidance, where people will read your messages and yet take forever to respond, if they respond at all. Where people don't respond to invites, or hide that fact that they are online so you can't see them. It's also a virtual meat market, as well as being a forum for people to spew their ignorance or hate, such as Miss Pissing Pants from this morning. My decision has absolutely nothing to do with her, however, it just happened to occur when I was already getting fed up. Honestly, there was a time when it was fun. When there was "interaction" and it kept me from getting bored while working at home alone. Now, however, I find I'm always "checking facebook."  For what?  Really. What the hell am I checking for? Nine times out of Ten, I log on to "check" and end up getting annoyed or worked up. It's not what you'd call a peaceful or relaxing forum. While I do enjoy the sharing part, and the virtual log the page creates, I think about all that wasted time, and how I could be doing other things that I actually enjoy. So, again, step one is to take a break from the old FB. I'm sure I will go back at some point, but for now, I need to limit the constant feed of negativity I see each time I am there. I tend to absord it, and given who I am, that's not a good thing. I have to keep my Business page and I will also keep my Blog page. Both of those I actually do enjoy and don't require having "friends" or the irrational "need" to keep "checking." I know I had a life before becoming a slave to scrolling the feed, and while I love the Internet and blogging (and will probably never give that up), I'm going to try to remember what life was like before I knew what everyone was doing all day every day. That kind of information overload isn't at all conducive to trying to simplify.

Hope, who is already looking forward to the extra minutes in my day.

The long awaited update. Or me just talking to myself. Again.

Okay. I think I'm back. It's been quite a while since I've updated anything here. Not because I haven't had anything to say. Mostly because I've been busy trying to make a living, and finding the time to spend on things I actually enjoy is challenging at best. I'm going to try tonight, but there are three overly tired and somewhat hyper kids yammering in the background so concentrating won't be an easy feat. 

As you can probably tell, I survived the first visit with the The Head Doctor. My main reason for going is to attempt to get my own anxiety under control, and under control without meds if possible. That is my goal, so to speak, because apparently I have to have one. I'm trying to keep an open mind and remind myself it was just one visit and I can't judge the whole experience by that one visit. He did say a couple of things that I thought may actually be useful. (Is it normal for the doctor to talk more than you do?) For the most part, though, I can't help thinking that this man hasn't experienced what I experience so how the Hell can he possibly help me?  How do I know he doesn't suffer from anxiety?  You could call it a sixth sense...Or you could just listen to him talk, basically repeating the same words and advice you've heard for years from all the non anxiety sufferers in your life. I have a hunch that even though I'm the one looking for help, I still know far more about my own condition that he ever will. Still, I will try. And I will try to be open to the possibly that maybe I'm wrong about that. I will try. I'm not even thinking about mentioning my other suspicions at this point. Part of me feels like if he's legit, and actually listening, he'll figure it out. The other part of me kind of knows that's a long shot. In any case, this is where I am. I'm attempting something I have little faith in. I know I should be going about it with a more positive approach but, well, this is me we're talking about and that rarely happens. 

In other news, I had finally made an appointment for Jack, for a full evaluation. Both myself and his father were all set to go forward with it 100%, and finally find out once and for all what is going on. That was until I printed out the pages and pages of paperwork that needed to be filled out and started reading it. The first part that I wasn't crazy about was that I had to get the school involved. Does doctor patient confidentiality not apply to a Psych Eval?  I'm really uneasy about getting his teacher and school involved in anything until we have a handle on what is going on ourselves. It feels like an invasion of privacy, and yes, I realise how ridiculous that sounds given the fact that I'm writing about it here. Don't care. The next thing that bothered me was, in reading through all the questions, I could tell that this five pertained to my child having ADHD...these five meant my son was BiPolar...these pertained to Schizophrenia...those pertained to Depression and then these last few pertained to Severe Autism. If I were to answer all of those questions honestly (and I was a little annoyed that the way they were worded made it seem like all these children are "problem children") my son would be fine. Better than fine. Nothing to worry about. I saw very little that pertained to anxiety, which is the main symptom we're trying to manage. The questions relating to autism were ridiculous...Does your child line up over 100 items?  What!?  My child has been lining up toys/items for years. Never 100 or more. How many children line up 100 or more items?  What I got from that is they focus primarily on the severe/easy to spot cases. If Jack lines up 5 -20 items, he probably wouldn't fit their criteria. And lastly, after reading through everything and thinking on it for a few more days, I couldn't help but feel a tremendous amount of guilt. Guilt for putting him through something like that when I know in my heart and soul that he doesn't suffer from any of those other diagnoses. So, after all of that, and after talking with his father, we both agreed that we don't want to put him through anything unnecessary, and we're back to square one searching for the right doctor. We both feel the situation is unique in that Jack is NOT a problem child. In fact, he is the exact opposite of a problem child. He's good. Almost too good. You won't readily see the issues unless you know how and where to look. My faith in finding the right person to do that is dwindling, as I continue to read horror story after horror story of other parents ordeals. His father thinks that if we can  find him help with the anxiety the rest will fall into place. I don't think either one of us sees an AS diagnoses as good or bad at this point. I think we both know what we know and mostly just want to make sure he has the tools he needs to manage the areas that will be difficult for him. 

So, that is pretty much what's been going on in my bubble. Not all that's been going on, but I only have so much time, and these old eyes are now starting to see floaters. Until next time...

Hope, who knows she sounds like a complete nut looking for help and not trusting anyone to give it, but...that's the way it is, in this here bubble. 

Spring, Moonshine, and Living in a Literal World.

First, I'd just like to say Spring is here. Finally. It's not in full force, but it is here none the less. I spent the morning cleaning out the flower beds and dumping the sticks and leaves and debris that Winter always leaves behind. Considering my green thumb has been virtually non existent for most of my life, I'm pretty damn proud of myself.

Okay, now that that's out of the way...back to business. During all my research over the past few months, I've learned that people with Autism or Asperger's (soon to become one) are just as individual and unique as anyone else, and more often than not you will not be able to tell by just looking at them.

But, having said that, and agreeing with the sentiment "If you've met one Aspie, you've met one Aspie", I have noticed a few key traits that seem to be universal, so to speak. One of those key traits is being Literal. Upholding an exact or primary meaning of a word or words. For example, you're invited to a dinner where everyone is asked to bring a dish. And you bring a dish. Just a dish. I don't think it is always that extreme, but you get the idea. Falling under the catagory of Taking Things Literally is also ... not getting the joke. Or not being able to tell when someone is joking, by missing the clues, like facial expression, tone of voice etc...

My son was always very literal, but given the household he lives in now, and my love of sarcasm, he's learning to get it. Not always, but he's only eight. He's got time. He still struggles with knowing when someone is joking. I, myself, was very literal as a child, but honestly feel that due to my interest in figures of speech, idioms, and word origins, I'm cleaning up in that area. ;)  I do, however, still see the visual or movie in my head every time. For example, if you say "Stop beating a dead horse.", I will instantly get that visual. Kind of gross. I was also always famous for missing the joke. Being a blonde, that won me the title of Ditzy.

Apparently I'm still missing the joke. Being undiagnosed at this time, I can only attribute it to me, being me. Which is fine. Sometimes, being me is awesome. Funny, even. My tendancy to grasp on to ridiculous details, even made me laugh today.

My BF has developed a love of Hillbilly Shows, as I call them. One of those shows being Moonshiners. He will seriously watch them back to back for hours. I even bought him one of those nifty Turn Juice into Wine contraptions to play with for Christmas.  About a month or so ago he say's to me, "Save these gallon water jugs for me to put my Moonshine in when I make it." That's what he said. I think that was all he said. I may have rolled my eyes or something, thinking..."Oh god, here we go." but preceded to save the jugs. Every time I emptied a gallon jug of water I made sure not to throw it in the recycle bin and instead save it for his Moonshine. Save the jugs. Save the jugs. Save the jugs. Detail.

                                                 (Ignore the skull. It's plastic. I swear.)

Today, while I was playing in the dirt and the leaves, he walks out of the garage.

BF: "Are you really saving those Gallon water jugs?" (smirking)

Me: "Yeah. You said you wanted them."

BF: (laughs)

Me: "What's so funny?"

BF: "You were really saving those jugs!"

Me: "You said you wanted them. Why are you laughing??"

BF: "I'm not really going to make Moonshine. I was just kidding. You thought I was really going to make Moonshine!" (laughing)

Me: "No you weren't! You were kidding?? Really? You said you wanted them. I've been saving them because I really thought you wanted them!"

BF: "It's okay, it's funny."

Me: "I can't believe you were kidding. Here I was thinking I was being supportive of your crazy idea."

BF:" "I know. That's cute."

So, yeah. I finally laughed. And every time I think about now, I laugh again. But the truth of the matter is, I know this man fairly well. Maybe, better than I've known anyone, and still I miss the clues. I can see why ditzy might fit, or even gullible, but I don't really believe I'm either. I just suck at reading between the lines. This isn't the first time. It certainly won't be the last.

In my defense, though, this very same man that was joking about Moonshine, is attempting to grow a pineapple in our kitchen. A pineapple that will take two years to actually grow.

At least, I think he is...

Hope, who can still laugh at herself so that must be a good thing.

Aspie or Not? Social Traits...or I'm much Cooler on the Internet

Now that a lot (but certainly not all) of the Emotional Traits are down in print, lets move on to the fun stuff. Or what most people consider fun stuff. Social Traits. Another long list. Enjoy.

1. WILL RATHER BE ALONE THAN WITH OTHER PEOPLE:  I NEED time alone. I physically require it to recharge. If go for too many days without time alone I get pissy, aggravated, annoyed, spacey and tired. This happens more quickly and more often after events or long periods of time with 3 or more people and a lot of noise/commotion. I can also really enjoy being alone so long as I know it is not forever. 

2. WILL STRUGGLE WITH SEEMINGLY SIMPLE DAY TO DAY TASKS: Having to make a a phone call or an appointment for something makes me extremely anxious and drains me. I have to actually plan it out, when I'm going to do it, what I'm going to say, how I'm going to say it. I also have to do it when I'm alone so there are no distractions. 

3. WILL PREFER TO STAY HOME: Having to actually GO to that appointment not only causes extreme anxiety as well, but can sometimes send me over the edge and usually screws up my whole day. These are the days when Ativan is my best friend. 

4. TROUBLE MAKING/KEEPING FRIENDS:  I really had to think about this one. People have often said it takes a long time to really get to know me. And I guess that's true. I don't have many friends, but then again, I don't want that many friends. I periodically clear out my facebook friend list simply to keep the number down and make my feed manageable. For me, having too many people in my life requires too much time and effort. More than I am able to give. It's overwhelming for me, to keep track of everyone, and what they are doing, and how often I should see them or talk to them. I don't know the rules because I guess there aren't any. Unspoken rules maybe? But I don't know what those are. Most people seem to naturally know the give and take involved. None of it comes naturally to me. Honestly, I can go forever without talking to most people and not be very bothered by it.  My friends tend to be old friends, or lifelong friends. People who have already gone through the process of getting to know me. New friends seem to be people who share a lot of the same interests, challenges or difficulties as me. I also tend to be drawn to people who are not "typical" or "mainstream".  People who march to the beat of a different drummer. Books, however, are my best friends. I love books more than I love most people. Bookstores and Library's have always eased my anxiety. 

5. ALCOHOL AND ASPERGER'S SYNDROME/DRINKING TO COPE: Alcohol is my key to being social and has been since I was a teenager. I can actually enjoy large noisy places with strange people as long as I can drink. If I can't drink, I will avoid those places at all costs. 

6. MAY BE SHY/QUIET OR OUTSPOKEN WHEN FIRED UP:  As a child, I was the "shy" girl. The girl who hardly talked, but when she did she was told to speak up. The girl who never smiled and didn't understand why everyone was always telling her to. That lasted until I discovered the magic of beer as a young teenager. Liquid Courage soon became a close friend. Age (and probably hormones...the unbalanced kind) have given me more of an aggressive side. I wouldn't call myself shy at this point in my life. If I feel strongly about something I will speak up. It will expend a tremendous amount of energy to do it and I will most likely have to take an Ativan to calm down after. But still, I will do it. 

7. FEELINGS OF BEING FROM ANOTHER PLANET:  I've always felt isolated. Alone. On the outside looking in. This hasn't changed with age. In fact, it's become more evident. Ironically the feeling of being alone emerges more often when I am with other people, like there is an invisible wall. I hardly ever feel alone when I'm by myself. 

8. WILL TURN CONVERSATION BACK TO SELF:  I'm pretty honest and straight forward. Hopefully not brutally, but possibly. When talking with someone I do notice I tend to turn the conversation back to me. Not on purpose, and since I've learned that is a trait, I've tried to be more conscience of it. I think I do it as a way of relating to what is being said. Another sign is coming across as controlling. I know I do this. As well as questioning the actions and behaviors of others. I also overthink and overshare. It's involuntary and, again, I think it is only done as a way to relate. To learn. To understand. 

9. WILL NOT BE ADEPT AT SMALL TALK:  I hate small talk. HATE it. All that shit you have to say at Parties to people you don't know. I can do it if I have to, but I fucking hate it. Besides making me extremely uncomfortable it is pointless as hell to talk without really saying anything. I know that this a trait of Aspergers as well but it's also something I will never change my mind about. I also hate talking to strangers and get annoyed when they try to engage me in conversation. I do notice that I make little to no eye contact with strangers. I always thought it was my way of shutting them down, so they would give up trying to talk to me. I was often told I seemed stuck up in school. On the flip side if I'm with someone I know well, and like or love, I will stare. Often. Almost always. Probably always. It's like I study their face. I'm not staring into their eyes. I'm looking at their forehead, or the shape of their nose, cheek bones, or watching their lips as they talk. I have done this for as long as I can remember. I have heard the words "What are looking/staring at?" more times than I care to admit. 

10. ANXIETY AND SENSORY ISSUES:  I do best socially in a one on one environment. If there is more than one other person I will inevitably melt into the background. People tend to either not hear me or talk over me. I often feel ignored. If it's a large social situation (5 or more people) I will find the conversation confusing and will have a hard time following what is being said. I've used alcohol to cope in these situations since my very first social gatherings as a young adult. (drinking before the 8th grade school dances etc..) Whether it's a Holiday gathering with family or a night out with strangers, it's always the same. I will have to drink. If for some reason alcohol is not readily available (with my boyfriend's family perhaps) I will find the situation extremely uncomfortable. Almost painful. I won't say very much, and most likely someone will make a comment on how I'm not saying very much. This will engage fight or flight, the anxiety will build and that one measly social event will result in a couple of recovery days (alone time) and possibly a panic attack. I tend to have delayed reactions, so a panic attack two days after a stressful event is not unusual. This makes it difficult to link it to something and even more difficult to explain to anyone else what is wrong and answer the "Why" questions. 

And that, as they say, is that. (I still had the issue of Sex left, but because I want to keep each list to ten, you'll have to wait for the nitty gritty to be thrown in with random traits and oddities.)

Sorry for spelling errors. I'll fix them later.

Hope, who is suddenly very tired, and I've only been writing about be social.