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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Peace. Of Mind.

I remember a fight my parents had years ago. I was in High School. My Mom had gone out the night before to some social event for work, and didn't come home. Well, she did come home eventually, just not at an hour one would have expected. My Mom was having an affair. I mostly knew this because I had figured it out. Not that it was difficult. If you listened to only half of what she said, it was still hard to miss each time she mentioned a man she worked with. A man she had  nicknamed "Cutie".  My father obviously didn't listen to half of what she said, because I don't believe he knew. At least, not until that fight. I remember them screaming at each other and my mothers ridiculous cries of "I don't remember. I don't remember where I was. What do you want from me?"  And I remember my father saying the same phrase over and over again. "Piece of mind. I want a little Piece of mind."

At the time I really didn't know what the hell he was talking about.  What does that even mean? Why does he want a piece of mind? And who's mind? Hers? Cuties? I was utterly confused and just wished he would stop saying it. But he didn't. He said it over and over again.

Fast forward twenty something years later, to a woman with a much firmer grasp of idioms and sayings. I get it now. Peace of mind. That's what my father wanted. He wanted that thing. That thing that I've never ever had.

Peace of Mind: Fig. a tranquility that results from not having worries, guilt, or problems.

By that particular definition, I find it hard to believe that such a thing even exists, but I suppose it does in short doses for some people. I, myself, haven't really experienced it. People like me normally require some sort of drug or substance to induce such a tranquil state. Prescription drugs can do it. Sort of. I would imagine Heroine gives Peace of Mind as well. I wouldn't know. But the kind of Peace of Mind my father was looking for, didn't require drugs. I know this because I've been searching it for it my whole life. The kind of Peace of Mind he was looking for required only the truth. Truth, can also bring about Peace. Of mind.

While my literal teenage brain may have been a little confused back on that faithful day, my adult brain now knows exactly what he was asking for. I also know exactly how he was feeling. Empathy? Perhaps. Sometimes I feel like my entire life has been a series of "Who's Lying to Me Now.". While each episode changes scenes and brings in different characters, the theme remains the same.

I wonder if being lied to bothers other people in the way it does me. I wonder if it changes them somehow. Twisting and bending them in ways they never thought possible, until they reach a point where they can no longer recognize their own reflection. I wonder. The characters in my life who do the lying always throw out the same phrases like..."it's no big deal." and "you're over reacting."  They've all done it. Each and every one.  But I also know that just because they say that, doesn't make it true. Because, after all, they're the Liars, aren't they.

Hope, who's mind will forever be searching for it's piece. Peace.

99 Problems - Number Two

This is definitely a problem for me. Approaching a subject, whether it is because I feel hurt, ignored, mad, taken advantage of, used, dismissed, sad or whatever emotion may happen to be the result of another action. Before I approach the subject I experience an intense feeling of fear. I'm not sure why, except that maybe past experience has proven to me that sharing my feelings is wrong. I tend to latch on to a first experience and will assume that all experiences will be the same. While I know intellectually this isn't necessarily true, again, experience keeps proving to me, that yes, most times this is true.

I can rarely express any emotion that isn't positive without tears or without anger. And often times the tears are when I am angry, and the anger is when I am hurt. What normally happens if I have a problem I want to discuss with someone or if I feel like there is something that needs to get out in the open, I will be filled with fear. Fear of rejection, fear of indifference, fear of attack, fear of yelling, fear of dismissal, and fear of the ever famous eye roll. That fear then turns into anxiety, as most difficult emotions do when you are not allowed to release them. The anxiety turns to panic and before you know it I'm sick. Physically sick and taking medication to try to control this tornado inside of me. The problem is I don't want it to be this way, and as much as I don't believe anything in this life, I somehow manage to muster up a tiny bit of hope. Hope that it doesn't have to be this way. Hope that I can be brave and voice my feelings and they might be heard. They might be understood.

So, I do. Not even midway through I start to see all my initial fears becoming realities, which reaffirms that I shouldn't share my feelings with anyone. Midway through I start to absorb the emotions of the other person. The anger. The denial. The yelling. That I'm not cut out for the type of communication where people aren't allowed to communicate. I'm not cut for the type of communication where you can't actually say what you feel, without being condemned.

In the end, I do what I always do. I write and turn in all inward. Each time it chips away at my connection with other people. It validates my mistrust. And it sets me apart in a way, that getting back ends up being a long, hard, painful journey. One that I start to doubt is even worth the trip anymore.

Simple? Nothing is simple.

In unrelated, but somewhat related news, I took a step today. I finally responded to my mother's email. After the last two months of letting it eat me alive, this morning something happened that made me realize when you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. When you have nothing to lose, what's left to fear?

It was fairly short and straight to the point. I stressed why I hadn't contacted her, what I thought of her actions and behavior and I also expressed that I was not expecting her approval or understanding. That these were simply my feelings and why I have been avoiding contact.

I'm not sure what will happen next. I'm not sure I even care what happens next.

Hope, who only has 97 problems to go...

99 Problems-Number One. Don't touch my shit.

Big problem. Huge. Huge Problem.

I have a friend on Facebook who's been posting these "Problems of an Aspie" for a while now and given the "lens" I see through they all ring true for me. I usually laugh when I read them because they are so familiar, but immediately after I laugh I feel a twinge (sometimes an intense twinge) of anxiety that each of these problems create. I thought it would be interesting, fun, a little scary and possibly therapeutic to elaborate a little more on each one and how it effects me personally. 

Problem #1. Other People touching my stuff. 

I hate this. I've always hated this. Even when I was child.  I knew I had to share my toys with my cousins, and being the agreeable, soft spoken little girl who never wanted to do anything wrong, I did. Still, I hated it, and god forbid  something ever got broken. There were inconsolable tears. It was the end of the world. The voice in my head would keep repeating, "I knew I shouldn't have let them play with it", over and over and over again. No one was responsible. No one was careful.  Honestly it was torture. I see these same tendencies in my son. He shares because he has to, but if it's something very important to him, he's started "hiding" those toys or objects so no one can get to them. 

I still have this problem as an adult. Luckily I don't have to share too much anymore, but even when my own child uses my iPad, I feel it. The anxiety. If he should happen to leave it on the floor that voice starts in again. It's automatic. It's involuntary. It just is. I simply don't like it. If I'm working on painting a doll, many times someone will come over to look at it (which I also hate, but working in the dining room leaves me little choice) and they will pick it up. Pick. It. Up. And I think...who does that!?  Who just puts their hands all over someones work?  I've voiced my discomfort with it a few times, but usually it comes out as "please don't touch that...or please don't ruin it."  I end up seeming like a crazy person who is extremely over protective of her vinyl heads. And I guess, in a way, I am. What I would like is for people to respect that and just know that they aren't supposed to touch my work. Ever. It won't hurt them at all not to touch something that doesn't belong to them. And for me, it would eliminate a tremendous amount of anxiety and an overwhelming feeling of invasion. Its almost as if a complete stranger has just touched me. Without asking and without warning. To sum it up, it just plain sucks. 

Just this afternoon I had to attempt to reel in my reaction to another incident. I say incident because to me that is what it was. To my BF, it was probably nothing. I also say "attempt" because I'm sure I wasn't completely successful. The back story is I had blood drawn this morning, which turned out to be difficult because I'm dehydrated. I have been on and off for the past month and I'm trying to fix it. Water alone isn't doing the trick so I got Gatorade purposely on my way home. The back even further story is I do this often, BECAUSE I know I'm dehydrated and more times than not my BF takes it, drinks it, or gives it to his son before Hockey. To give him credit he usually does ask first, and because, in many ways, I'm still the agreeable, soft spoken little girl, I say Ok. But it is torture. Today, I couldn't say Ok. I said something like, "I bought that purposely because I'm dehydrated. I don't mean to be a bitch, but..." I think he said something like...Ok...it's no big deal, relax. And most likely for him it is no big deal.  For me, however, it results in a full-on, internal Aspie Rant. 

You can't keep taking my Gatorade. I keep buying Gatorade and you keep taking my Gatorade. I take the time to plan and go to the store and buy what I need and you can't just take it because you don't want to take the time and plan and go the store. If you want Gatorade then say you want Gatorade when I ask you what you want at the store. Or leave early so you can stop and get your own Gatorade. If you buy something that you need I don't take it. I would never think to take it. And I hate it when you drink my water. 

Yeah. This is what happens. Luckily, it mostly remains internal, because, really, who would understand this? I sound like a crazy person going on and on about fucking Gatorade. It takes a tremendous amount of energy and restraint to keep these kind of thoughts from spilling from my lips. But unfortunately, the fact that I can't just let this out, is what makes the anxiety worse. I have to suppress my Sheldon Cooper like tendencies, because in real life, it's just not funny.  There is no laugh track. This type of ranting and raving will get me nothing but a diagnosis of certifiable. 

How to solve Problem Number One: Stop touching my shit. 

Hope, who lives in a place where nothing is simple. 

Fall, my brain, and a little Poe.

Seems like fall has arrived this morning. Aside from the food and the beer, it is not my favorite season. Along with the cold, it brings dark mornings and dark evenings. Even on the days that the sun is shining you can tell how far away it is. It doesn't warm you. It doesn't shed the same kind of light. I definitely blossom in a climate that is warmer year round, but as that isn't a possibility for me anymore, I'll just try hard to focus on the food and the beer.

The last few weeks have been hard. They've been filled with drama, lies, selfishness, noise, disruptions to routine, tears, anger, doubt, confusion, misunderstandings, revelations, and last but certainly not least anxiety. I feel like I will need at least twice that amount of time to recover fully. The truth is I won't get much recovery time. Instead I will dive right back into busy, which is probably not the worst thing. Work has picked up quite a bit and I'm expecting it to be a crazy Holiday season. In addition to dolls, I've sold some art, which has inspired me to start making more. 

A friend sent me a text just a little while ago, and in the text she asked "How was the visit with Mom?" In true fashion, my Aspie-like brain (what we can call it until diagnosis) dove on to a track of racing thoughts. How do I answer that? Should I just say fine? That would be a lie. Is it just a polite question that doesn't require an in depth answer as to how it is really going? How would most people answer? It's going well. Having a good time! Smiley face. Smiley face. Smiley face. But that's a lie. If I say it's been shitty, I probably won't  get a response. People don't like to hear about shitty. There's really not enough time to get into this. 

And so on and so on and so on. 

A simple question that most people wouldn't think twice about, sends me into over analyzing and panic so I will say the right thing. So I won't say the wrong thing. And at the same time my brain is screaming at me because telling the polite social white lie makes my skin crawl. How are you? I'm fine, how are you? It makes me want to vomit. 

This is automatic. This is just how it is. This is one more reason why it's easier for me to be somewhat shut off, with limited contact. My brain just goes through much more processing than most people I know, and honestly it's exhausting. I'm exhausted.

So instead of any more updates today, I will leave you with this. One of my favorite Poems by one of my favorite Poets. It makes more sense now. I don't find it sad anymore.

Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view. 

Edgar Allan Poe

Ch...Ch...Ch...Ch...Changes...

First, a week off from Blogging is not a vacation. It's more like being imprisoned in my own mind, which, by the way...scary, scary place.

Second, here I am, again. Since my last post, I've done some taking control of my own life. A little, I think. I thought I was letting go, as well. I was refocusing, I was attempting to live in the moment, and I was breathing. All very good things. Today, however, I feel like I'm back to square one.

With school ending on Monday, it's been a week of changes. Changes in schedule and routine. For me, this sucks. I can't really put it any other way. It just plain sucks. I try to wrap my brain around the change, and attempt to adjust. There are things I simply have to do, like work for instance, or we won't eat or have a place to live. So I do the best I can, but it is seriously, nearly impossible to focus if I am out of my familiar element.  I managed, with three panic attacks (is that even what they really are?) I felt them coming on (and feel another as I am typing) but I couldn't for the life of me, talk myself down. I couldn't breath through it. I couldn't make it stop, so I reached for the Ativan both times. I'm not sure what the trigger was. If it was the change, or the stress of the change, or both. What happens to my body physically, makes me want to crawl out of it. I've actually tried a few times, and unfortunately that's impossible.

Anyway, aside from having trouble getting my mind to adjust to sudden change, we are headed on a mini vacation bright and early Monday morning.

(I just had to take a little break, because my son just walked up to me, upset over a video game. His cheeks were bright red with scratch marks on them. I asked him how that happened and he said he did it because he was so mad he couldn't finish the level. I talked him down and explained how hurting himself is never the answer. This doesn't happen often, but it does happen, and every time it worries me more and more. )

Monday morning we leave to spend two nights, three days in Maine. Sounds great, right? Probably. To a normal person. But I think we've established I'm not one of those. I know that it is counterproductive to worry about all of things that could go wrong ahead of time. I'm not an idiot, I just suffer from anxiety. It's kind of what I do. I worry. I suffer. I write. I move forward, an inch at a time.

It's Friday. I've just spent the whole week attempting to do something that is nearly impossible for me. I've had NO quiet time. We are now heading into a Kid Weekend. And most likely a rainy one at that. This means being stuck in the house. This mean, not only no quiet time, but NOISE, instead. This means two or more people talking at once. This means television and electronic device noises simutaneously. This means fighting. This means bodies rushing up and down and to and fro. This also means my BF's behavior changes. Key word and trigger: Change. I'm not sure why this happens and we've fought endlessly about it, but still it happens. It actually started last night. It's almost as if he withdraws. He will forgo doing anything else that might need to be done and sit in the same spot on the couch for hours on end on his iPad. (Seriously, I could leave the house for a couple of hours and he wouldn't even notice I was gone.)The kids with run the roost. Grabbing food and drinks and leaving trash and wrappers and clothes on the floor. There will be little conversation between him and I. (Part of this, I admit, is because I, too, have started to withdraw, in an attempt to save myself. I can't sit on the couch all day next to a man who says nothing and in the middle of noise and dirty dishes and trash. I can't do it.) .So, yeah, this is kind of what happens, and what I'm sure will happen again, as it's Friday and I've already heard nothing from him all day. Change. 

Then, after all that fun filled excitement, we get to drive a couple of hours on the Highway. Another Trigger. The time away was actually something I was looking forward to. Now, however, it looks like rain the whole time. I'm not sure how we will compensate for that, given we had the Beach and Lobster Fishing on the agenda, but spending two days in a hotel room is not an option.

I honestly don't want any of this to affect me. I wish it didn't, but it does. I talked about it this week in my third visit to The Head Doctor. But because he's not a magician, and can't wave a magic wand, his take was less than helpful, basically telling me what I already know. That mixing oil and water isn't possible. You have to either accept that it's never going to blend properly, or you have to stop doing it. He suggested that perhaps I could explain what happens to me, and maybe we could reach a level of compromise or at the very least my BF would understand a little better. I laughed, and said I've been trying to that for a while now, but gave up and went with the therapy idea instead. He laughed. I don't think he thinks I'm unreasonable or crazy. My gut tells me he knows exactly what I am.

And that, is where I am at, at this very moment. Now that I've done a messy brain dump here, I'm going to do my best to once again, let it go. I will try to enjoy myself, even if that means Ativan and isolation. I will do my best to not predict disaster and roll with the punches.

Hope, who is realizing that Congnitive Therapy is work. Hard work. As is breathing...

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. 

Early Signs...Lines, Separating, and Sorting

As I've mentioned, one of the early signs of autism spectrum disorder, is a tendency for the child to line things up. Back when this first start happening in my household I really didn't have a clue as to what it could mean. Although my son did seem lost in his own world, it was as if he would snap out of it from time to time and make contact. I guess I told myself he was just really focusing on what he was looking at or doing. When these odd behaviors did present themselves I thought it was cute. After all, this was my son. I thought everything he did was cute.

 I remember when I first learned that this behavior was an early sign of autism. It was like a slideshow in fast forward had been turned on inside my head. I saw image after image after image of what my son had been doing for years. Being somewhat obsessed with taking photographs, I caught a lot of it and figured I would share some here. Incidentally, I never did try to alter or change this behavior. I'm sure I thought something like,  he's  "like me", he likes to organize. In any case, I'm glad that I let Jack be Jack.

When Jack first started his lining, separating and sorting he was still just learning to talk. He couldn't say his Th's and instead they came out as F's. He knew exactly what he doing when he engaged in this type of play.  In his own words, I proudly present...." Making Straight Fingy's"

Pairs stayed together.

Tub toys were always lined up on the edge of the tub.

Lines could be vertical.

And very tall.

Lining up the Easter eggs...

and sorting the Halloween Candy!

Lining up the Kitchen chairs. I was putting away laundry while this happened.

Lining up the cones at Daddy's work.

Sorting and lining up the Lunchables. 

Lining up his socks. 

With his new love of trains, the lines came in the form of a track, which was more "normal."

Only his trains were usually lined up in a row right beside the track, instead of on it.

Pairs of trains.

Pairs of Guitars.

The pine cone city.

Lines in the sand.

Just like with all behavior, if it's done often enough it becomes a part of who the person is. You really have to focus and think (or at least I do) to pick it out. If someone would have asked me, "Does Jack still line things up?" , I would have said. "No, he outgrew that behavior."

Except that these photos were taken fairly recently.

Lines of Lego Guys

I'm sure I have more somewhere. His matchbox cars and trains were always in big lines along the carpet. When he wasn't spinning the wheels. A simple search on Google with the words "Autism line things up" will provide more examples of this type of behavior. It brought back a lot of memories. Most of which are good, because as I said, I was pretty oblivious at first. 

The latest update, is the Anxiety is back, as I said it would be. He's now having what I can only describe as Obsessive OCD type "thoughts". I've decided not to wait until Summer as planned and have put another call in to the doctors office. Their less than than timely response is starting to annoy me though, and I'm probably going to make another call tomorrow to a place that was recommended by a friend. 

As for me, I've heard back from the Specialist, and apparently for adults Diagnostic Assessment is pretty damn costly. Of course it is. Nothing is cheap, or easy. So for now, I'm on the back burner until funds magically appear. 

Hope, who is still knee deep in figuring it all out.

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.