Me. Bitching.

I've been reading Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. I now have love for her and I'm finding the book to be extremely helpful in my writing pursuits. One of the things she stresses in the book is to write. Obviously. But to write every day. Something. Anything. Even if it's shit. And lets be honest, most of it is. She stresses the importance of filling a notebook every month. Just to get it in. To get it done. Well. I started out really well, but now it's the 20th and I have about 8 pages filled. Why? Life. It's sucking me dry. This isn't news, I know.

I have all of these great topics and ideas and I'm dying to get to it but I can't. Not only because of lack of time, but more because so fucking much is pissing me off right now that I need to dump it before I can focus on anything else. So here I am. It's fitting as this is where I bitch. I have to warn you, this entry is probably going to suck. But I don't care, because I'm drinking. happy face with tongue sticking out.

I don't make a habit of drinking and blogging, but maybe I should. So far it feels pretty good, but then again, I just downed a whole drink in five minutes. I just recently spent some time with family. The blood kind. The only family members that do not drink or aren't addicted to coke or heroin are those in recovery. It's sad, pathetic, and disgusting, but I get it. I so get it. So tonight, rather than expending more energy trying not to be one of them, I'm just going with it. Truth is, I am one of them. I think I fight harder not to lose control, but in the end, when it's needed, I take my medicine. Sad, but that's not what I wanted to talk about.

Just had to refill. If I do that two more times, this blog will become about how everything is great!!! In fact, I'm already starting to wonder why I'm really here. Okay. So, it's school vacation week. It's hard to believe that is the only reason I feel like jumping off a cliff, and it's not, but it's not helping. I'm trying to work, I'm behind on everything and at the same time I'm trying to keep my child occupied and prevent him from sinking deeper and deeper into his own world. It's not working. While he is awesome and funny and an all around great kid, without structure and a routine and someone forcing him into the real world he will sink deeper and deeper into his own. Aside from the non stop singing (only show tunes/movie themes) it's nearly impossible to get him to do or talk about anything other than what he is playing in his mind. Because he's not really playing so you can see him playing. It's hard to explain... but basically he just has something (mostly lego guys) in his hands and he spins around in circles and he makes noises. I will say something to him,...anything... like it's time to get ready to leave or ask him what he wants for lunch...and he will say.."I think it's time to ask yourself what you believe in" or "Great. I think I got it,. but tell me the whole thing again just in case because I wasn't listening." or "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."  Nothing that has anything to do with what I'm saying to him. In fact, he's not really saying anything. Those are all movie quotes. And while it's sometimes funny and sometimes cute, and yes, I know I do it too, far too often, a full week of it is too much to handle. But I can't stop it and I can't shake him until he comes back to reality and I can't yell and I can't just go hide so I don't have to hear it anymore. As I'm saying this, I'm thinking to myself, wow the mom's with two fighting kids really do have it worse than I do and now I'm feeling guilty for not being able to deal with a child who's oddities and ocd tendencies drive me up the wall when he's home for a week. But still, they do, and I know why. It's because they conflict with mine. It's quite possible I'm driving him just as batty and that is why he's spending so much time in la la land. But in any case. School. Soon. Very soon.

The rest of it is all lumped together into what I like to refer to as The Weight of the World. I feel it. On my shoulders. Constantly. The weight of having to earn enough (extra) money so we can eat and have heat and pay all of our bills. The weight of having to work sometimes 7 days a week in order to accomplish this and watch everyone else lie around while I do it. The weight of having to buy the food and plan the meals and cook the meals. The weight of having to take care of everything in the home, the laundry, the dishes, and the cleaning (that's a joke), while trying to work a more than full time job in only the part time hours I'm allotted. The weight of being the primary caregiver for my son and losing 6 precious nights of me time per month that I definitely used to recharge. I've spent that last few years fighting and asking for help with some of this, and when I do I feel like I get attitude. Just plain ass bullshit attitude. I feel the weight of still being the "other woman" because that is how it is. I'm not The Woman. The primary woman. I still come second to what the ex wife wants and needs and I know he would disagree with this but it's true. Why else wouldn't he have made The Woman by now? On top of this, we're supposed to be making a move. Soon. Like in 2 and half months. Beside all the the shit we have here that needs to get packed up, we are moving into a house that needs work top to bottom. I have no reason to believe that anyone but me will be doing all of this because history has told me...that no one but ME will be doing all this. Does this make sense? I hope it makes sense or else I just want to jump of a fucking bridge for nothing. (I know I said cliff before. I'm changing it up.) When I voice my feelings, my frustration, my dissatisfaction with the way things are...well...basically that is just me starting a fight. Me ruining the day. Me attacking. Me blaming. Nothing ever changes. In fact, I think that with each time I do voice my feelings I make things worse.

So. I'm stuck. I'm fucked. One more drink and I'll also be drunk. Good thing is...I'm almost drunk.

There. Bitch session complete. Maybe this will free up some space to actually dive into something with more life. Something with less of a dead end.

Hope, who is becoming no fun to be around and who doesn't even care to be around much anymore anyway.

Philip Seymour Hoffman. Another one bites the dust.

Philip Seymour Hoffman died yesterday. Or at least that is when they found his body. If you are on any type of Social Media site it was hard to miss, as is just about anything else, whether you want to know about it or not. It wasn't difficult to guess what might have been the cause of his death.  At the first news of his passing the "feed" was packed with words like sad, heartbreaking, genius, and gifted. Later as more news broke the word shocking was added to the list. And then it took only a matter of hours (I say that generously, it was probably more like minutes) for those words to change. Soon the "feed" was packed with words like pathetic, tragic, loser, addict, and junkie. In the blink of an eye, the masses, once again, decide who or what a person is based on their demons. The talent becomes overshadowed by the needle found in his vein.

I'm not saying that it should be this way, or it shouldn't. I don't know. I do know that personally I don't like it. I hate to see people turn so quickly. To dismiss someones beauty simply because of what was ugly. To judge so harshly, a demon that I'm guessing most of them have never battled. It makes me sad. It also makes me angry. There is far too little understanding and compassion in this world, and far to much judging and condemning. That alone, makes it much harder, for certain types of people to find their way. They simply feel it all on a much grander scale.

As I said, I wasn't surprised to hear his death was drug related. I was hopeful that maybe it wasn't, but not surprised that it was. You will rarely find an individual with that level of depth, that has not, at the very least "dabbled", in an attempt to shut some of it off.

I'm sure people will lose interest in bashing as they always seem to do. Soon enough, the overdose won't be the main focus, and hopefully his legacy will be more about what an amazingly talented actor he was. More accurately though, it will most likely turn a sharper corner, and he will be idolized because of his demons.  In either case, I think we miss the point.

RIP, Philip Seymour Hoffman. A man, who despite all of his fantastic character portrayals, will forever be known (to me) as the man that invented "sharting". :)

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.

. 

S.A.D

i'm sure it's just winter
the short days
the bitter cold
the dry air
the color gray

i'm sure it's just the extended darkness
the snow, the rain
the missing sunshine
fucking with my brain

i'm sure it's just lack of movement
the constant sitting
the extra weight

i'm sure it just the processed foods
the carbs
the wheat
the sugar
in the cake

i'm sure if i could just go somewhere
if i could just get somewhere
warmer
brighter
colorful
and lighter

i'm sure if i could swim
or feel a breeze
or walk in the heat
and hear the leaves

i'm sure if i just had a nice salad
and some fresh fruit
and maybe some herbal tea

i'm sure that's all it is
the darkness
the fog
the depleted energy

i'm sure this lack of focus
and lack of will
is only temporary

i'm sure i could change it
if i could just get up
if i could just stand
and go in the other room
and do...
something.
if i could just
think something
look forward to something
feel something

if i could
i'm sure it would be fine
if i could
i'd speed up time

but i'm sure it's just winter

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...#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.

The longest hiatus since the last long hiatus...

Well, that was certainly a long break, even though it was nothing like anything that would even closely resemble a "break". Where have I been? (asked no one, ever.) Eh, I've been around. In all honestly I've been sitting right here, in this very seat. So close. So very, very close and yet so fucking far away.

I wish I could say it was something exciting and fabulous that kept me away, but unfortunately, it was work. A lot of it. I worked days, some nights, and most weekends since the end of October. It was a nice run, but with Christmas, and winter and extra bills, I sit here today, two days before Christmas with nothing left to show for it. I'm trying to not to let it feel like it was all for nothing, but...well, it feels like it was all for nothing. *sigh*.

In other news, I finally broke down and made "the call" to my parents. Not before I had sent a second email, once again, trying to... I don't know... break through a brick wall? The response was generic, completely ignoring the issue at hand. If it wasn't for my Father's Birthday being at the beginning of December I would still be resisting contact. But my old friend, Guilt, stopped by for a visit and I had a hard time resisting his argument. I made excuses like, it's not his fault he can't stand up to her...and he's old now, he's set in his ways. He's from a different time. A time when parents didn't know anything. That last one made me laugh. Mostly because it's kind of true. So, anyway, I did the right (right?) thing and called to wish him a Happy Birthday after sending him a card with some Birthday money. I also spoke with my mother. After nearly three months of no contact, She acted as if nothing had happened. She addressed nothing I had confronted her about in my emails and she was almost cheerful. It was a difficult call for me for a few reasons. This "pretending" she does isn't new. This has gone on my whole life and was confusing at best, crazy making at it's worst. I dealt with it though. I put on my mask and pretended right along with her, talking about nothing of any real importance and only offering bits and pieces of information. Nothing more than I would share with a complete stranger. This seemed to make her happy. A week later her Birthday rolled around, so I repeated this same act of sending the card, money and making the call. The incident was almost identical to the one before, except for the part where I had to pick out the card. 

Mom, even when I was younger, I knew these things for sure...

We have such a special connection, Mom.

Mom, I love how easy it is to talk to you.

Happy Birthday to a good listener, a great friend...

You're incredible, Mom.

I've learned a lot from you, Mom...just by watching how you do things and how you approach life...

What is a Mom? She's words that encourage, hugs that care and hands that help when you need it the most.

Mom, what would I do without you? Who would I call when I'm having one of those days?

And on and on they went, one sappy card after another, filled with words like trust and love and talking and listening and closeness. I couldn't find anything at all that said..."Sorry we don't connect. Happy Birthday anyway!"  I finally settled on something I could have sent my elderly neighbor, along with Christmas cards and more money. 

That was a week or so ago. It's now two days before Christmas and I've yet to receive a Christmas card for either myself or my son. Should I be surprised?  No.  Of course not. I'm am not a stupid woman. I swear to you I am not and to prove it, I've decided that in 2014 I'm going to stop acting like one. 

Drink and be Festive! (My new Holiday wishes designed to offend only recovering alcoholics)

Hope, who only had this time to write because it got too dark to paint. Thank you, daylight savings time.