04/23/13

Are You Calling Me & Other Autistics Sociopaths? (Think About It)

I am going there. I want people to think about what they are saying when they say that Autistics “lack empathy.” I have been over this on my blog, and I have shared a several posts revealing how my son Daniel, who is Autistic, shows and expresses empathy along with myself. Autism and Empathy: Dispelling Myths and Breaking Stereotypes , which Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg Editor and Publisher created, is an entire website featuring many posts and articles sharing truths about Autism and empathy. If you are still under the premise that we as Autistics “lack empathy”, I would suggest going to her website to get a more accurate view.

I want to make a strong impression here because I believe we have enough information now to change the perspective.

However, many still believe that we are unable to feel or express empathy. I blame this on the plethora of literature and media that continue to speak about us, without us. In my opinion, I also feel that society tries to blanket emotions as a whole and generalize them into easy compartments that are only defined by what the “group” is thinking for the moment. Interestingly, some people fail to consider how complex emotions are to each individual. Speaking for myself, I find my emotions too difficult to articulate many times because of the complexity that I feel. I work through them in my creative writings because I am unable to discern immediately what emotions belong to me, and what emotions belong to others.

I can pick up the emotions of others without realizing what I am doing.

It has been confusing for the majority of my life. I become greatly affected by events in people’s life or in media. Much of what Eileen Parker wrote in her post Autism, Empathy and Boston is how I felt. I have managed to express my emotions in the most simplistic of terms much of the time. Happy or sad are pretty much my staple expressions of emotions. Last night my friend Lori shared a wonderful post that helped me understand myself in this area a great deal. Go have a read Accepting Emotional Regulation. I have read a few things now that say in order to have empathy for others it is dependent upon understanding your own feelings.

I understand my feelings very much, it is when others get in the mix that I can become confused.

Here is where I am confused now, how can people not understand the negative associations and misinterpretations about Autistics when they claim these things? When will these negative terms start to dismantle and be edited into better terms and understanding in the books and society? Based upon the history of human existence I feel that it will be longer than, we hope.

However, I DO have hope.

I am relying on the numerous Autistic voices stepping up and sharing how they really think, along with our advocates sharing their perspectives. Still, we have a lot of work to do. Today I am sharing what I feel. I want to express clearly, what it means to me when I hear or read about Autistics lacking empathy. It has been burning in my brain for years. For a while, I believed it. I was so terrified that I was a narcissist that I researched what narcissism was just to be clear.

I did a three part series on the difference between narcissists and Aspergers.

Aspergers – Narcissism: NOT The Same I

Aspergers – Narcissism: NOT The Same II

Aspergers – Narcissism: NOT The Same III

The more I researched the more I believed that Autistics do not fall under the criteria of lacking empathy.

Something that rang through my brain was how everyday people, who are supposed to have the ability to empathize, are the same people who bully. Bullying is a Group Phenomenon − What Does It Mean And Why Does It Matter? The thoughts flooded my brain about instances when I witnessed someone being bullied and I stepped in to stop it while others stood and watched. I felt what that person was feeling and I could not sit back and let it happen. I have done this in school, at church, and at the workplace. Yes, adults bully and they do it at work.

Is this different from empathy in some way?

I think the definition of empathy is loose and left up to each individual. However, when a person with a degree or medical background claims that they have dibs and somehow work it into our societal jargon we are left with their interpretation. It offends me. It hurts me. It annoys me. Mostly, it has been detrimental to my self-esteem. Even if one says, that they did not mean to imply that Autistics are narcissistic or sociopaths the fact of the matter is that being defined as lacking empathy falls under the criteria of narcissism, antisocial personality disorder, as well as psychopaths. These are associated with symptoms of lacking empathy, Autism has been lumped into to that on several resources that I read. They are claiming that we lack the ability to feel another person’s emotions or understand from their perspective, or care?

This has been based upon how we react in situations or what we say?

For instance, instead of emotionally responding instantaneously we start to ask questions that seem inappropriate or we shutdown completely, this is considered showing lack of empathy. For me I may ask questions in order to understand the situation better because in my mind I automatically want to understand and create long lasting helps. I do not do quick fixes. If you are hurt, I want to know the what’s and the why’s to first insure that I was not the cause. If you are excited, I want to know all the details and I mean every detail. Many people just expect you to respond toward them in the way that they would respond.

I do this too.

I still struggle with thinking that people would or should react with empathy toward me the way I expect. That is why I have continued to be baffled at people in general. They will claim that we lack empathy, but they do not try to empathize with our emotions or situations. We are required to be bombarded in sensory assaulting environments and then, if we have a meltdown, shutdown, are cranky, lose our words, or stare blankly we are ruining the fun? If our favorite object breaks or our schedule is suddenly changed, we are supposed to be able to “get a new one” or “get over it” because “it is not that big of a deal.”

Well, those things are a big deal to me and to my son.

To be quite blunt about it by definition, I feel that those who continue to claim that we lack empathy are operating in the very thing I am being accused of.

Let us take a look here.

“Empathy is the capacity to recognize emotions that are being experienced by another sentient or fictional being. One may need to have a certain amount of empathy before being able to experience accurate sympathy or compassion.” ~ Wiki

Simple enough, huh?

I would like people not to be offended at my words, but once again, to be quite blunt, we Autistics are still being labeled and falsely perceived as lacking empathy. My purpose here is to ask you to stop and think just for a moment. Do you truly understand the meaning of empathy? It is a broad definition based upon your perceptions and wants. How you want to be understood is how you expect others to show you empathy. We all need to take a step back and reconsider our expectations. The generalized conceptions about empathy limits us and does not allow room for growth, self or in our society.

Currently, the generalized attitude seems to be that anyone who lacks empathy lacks emotion, feeling, or the ability to care for others.

That attitude would assume that I am a narcissistic, unfeeling, uncaring droid if I were to tell anyone that I am an Aspergers adult. These words shine such a negative light that it puts me on the defense at times. Why? Because it hurts, makes me anxious and fearful. It makes me feel as though I need to defend the way I think and how I process. It makes me feel isolated and misunderstood. It makes me question my actions and constantly try to evaluate what and how I perceive my world. It makes me worry about how people will respond to my son. I have had a lifetime of being told how wrong I am and people telling me how my actions and words are wrong. I have had to filter through all of that and learn to accept myself.

I have had to wade through all the negative associations toward Autism for my son and myself.

What I do not understand is why people are so quick to assume the negatives about autism. Why are so many people unwilling to use positive lingo instead of painting all of us as dismal way of being. I do not run from the fact that there are great challenges. I live them daily with my son and myself. Some days it is extremely difficult, but I ask how can it get any better when we have to face a world that looks at us with negative eyes. Does the world truly think that we are sociopaths? Do people really believe that we are like robots without emotions? Are we such difficult creatures that we have to be explained in terms as being broken? Is the way we process our world so incredibly awful that all energies must be projected into finding ways to make us more like the general public?

News flash, the general public is hurting.

There are people suffering from all sorts of physical, mental, and emotional issues. Many have no one to empathize with them about their disability, their depression, their anxiety, their fears, their “disorders,” or hurts. There is no one stepping up and saying, “I feel you, let me help.” Many of them are like me, reaching out through the internet because no-one-else in their life understands. These souls reaching out to find others who know what the hell they are feeling and talking about.

Think about it.

If you are reading this, have you stepped into my shoes for a moment? We are being told repeatedly that we need to understand how your world works. It is being demanded that we learn your system that is foreign and difficult for us to understand. We are being requested to change the way we think, respond, and express. BUT people fail to see how hard we have been trying to do just that. We have tried to fit in, belong, understand, be accepted, study and figure out this system of humanity that makes us feel like aliens on our own planet.

There are many reasons why an Autistic person reacts in the way that they do.

Maybe the next time you feel as though the Autistic person is showing a lack of empathy, how about you step back for a moment and ask them directly and clearly, what they are doing. Do not ask broad generalized questions, or tell them that they do not understand. Ask them point-blank “What are you thinking in this moment?” However, if you do be prepared for the possibilities of the most foreign thought you could think of, but know that whatever they are thinking could be a great riddle to solve. It could lead to a grand answer of them expressing such empathy that you would never have imagined. It could happen. You could be hammered with a bunch of questions that could lead to surprising helps that you never would have considered.

You could end up with silence and them walking away.

And the next day their favorite stuffed animal or pair of headphones on your desk. You just never know what exciting empathetic gifts could be given to you. I will share several links to my posts in regards to how Daniel has expressed empathy. I will also, share one trying to express how I do by asking questions. I am going to share several other posts from others as well. I hope that I make sense in this post. It is coming from a slight offense, even though I tried not to be negative. I still, do have my opinion and feelings about this. I respect everyone’s journey and their times that they need to vent. I do not judge condemn, or speak ill of them. I work through my own emotional response and trust in the process of everyone’s journey.

However, I think people need to start critically thinking about what they are saying to an entire population that has been ignored far too long.

Positives About My Autistic Son

“I Do Not Understand”

Come On! Enough With The “Lacking Empathy”

“What Is The Cat Feeling?”

My Autistic Son Comforted Me Today

Daniel, Me & Empathy

Things that I read.

How I Experience Empathy

Autism, empathy, and violence: One of these things doesn’t belong here

Empathy, Mindblindness, and Theory of Mind (Sharing this one again!)

A Radical New Autism Theory (Radical??)

How to Test Your Empathy

It’s Hard to Live with Someone Who Lacks Empathy

Empathy

10 things not to say to someone with Asperger’s

How to Relate to Someone who Has Asperger’s Syndrome

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09/5/12

Had To Share

We are taking our lunch break from school and I wanted to get this out before we got back to it. I am overwhelmed with some happy mommy moments. Several things have happened this morning. Daniel and I were doing his social studies lesson, and they asked how Rosalynn and Jimmy Carter have made an impact on the U.S. and the world. There were not a lot of details so I went in search of some things to try to break it down in terms he could understand. He was beginning to get frustrated. Finally, he said, “I do not understand.”

I asked, ” What do you not understand the question, or do you not understand what they did?”

He said, “I do not understand what they did.” The information given was about Habitat for Humanity and other issues dealing with people who were without. We ended up in a discussion about how some people are not able to work for various reasons, or do not have jobs, and cannot afford food or homes among other things. He was taken aback and sat thinking about this for a while. He then, needed me to explain the how’s and why’s of the situations. He was clearly upset and worried that others were going without anything. After I was able to get him to answer the question, which was, “They helped people get something.” (I am not sure he will get credit for that.) He said that he needed a break.

We have not talked about it since.

He is currently slowly driving me bonkers with loud claps and stomps. Wow! Just wow! That was a milestone for sure and I have no doubt that he will be asking me more questions in the near future. Another grand thing that happened was that Joshua was able to read and write all of his spelling words! They are doing short e words, and he read three decoder books for me – so exciting! Yay! This is truly a big deal since he has already had a very rough morning with him and Ariel getting into arguments over the semantics of the word “passing.” Ugh! They are currently in dispute over the way a Hero Factory guy is supposed to look. :-/ Ariel told me this morning that she had a poem in her head from last night. I was a little teary-eyed when she shared her poem with me and then, requested that we put it up on her blog. (She also asked me to share it with her teacher.)

I will share her poem and picture here too.

Eyes

Eyes look

Eyes see,

but some eyes

don’t see what is really happening to me.

Eyes glitter

Eyes look,

but the only eyes

that see my world are mine.

She also said, “I am writing this because I have a different world in my mind.”

She has not felt like putting anything on her blog in a while or like writing anything for several months. I was excited that she has her creativity juices flowing again. I was also very moved by her words. I got concerned about her writing, “don’t see what is really happening to me.” I asked her if that was good or bad. She explained to me that it was good because it is her world. She likes that she thinks differently, but that she also can see how she shares similarities with people with other things. It made me feel proud that she accepts herself and sees her differences in a positive way. She is deciding and defining parts of her own identity and I think that is pure awesomeness! I wish I had been able to learn (keep and express) that at such an early age. I think that it is so awesome how she sees the world – how they all see the world.

Happy mom moments!

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07/17/12

They Are Gone… It’s Gone…

Since arriving here, in my hometown, I have felt a calling to go check out my home where I grew up for most of my childhood. I was not sure what this pull was, but it would not stop and I had to go. I was able to go yesterday morning. I wanted to take the kids with me – Ariel and Joshua went. Daniel is refusing to get in the car; there was a morning of meltdown at the mention of me taking him. Finally, David said that he would keep him so I could go. It has since been discovered, after the calm down, and pieces put together Daniel is afraid of getting carsick.

He said that he felt sick when we went to my aunts, which is only 10 minutes away.

However, he did not say any of this clearly, it started with him saying, “I wish the car didn’t move up and down.” I admit in the morning I was not all that sympathetic because he refused to answer me, speak, and was screaming to interrupt me every time I tried to figure out what was going on. I have my days; I fail to interpret, after all had settled I asked Daniel if he understood why I was frustrated. He said that he did not, I explained that I was frustrated because I did not understand and that if I knew he was getting car sick and afraid of throwing up again it would have made sense to me. I also expressed very clearly that I was not upset at him, but the situation and not being able to figure out what was wrong.

I also told him that I understood that he did not know how to tell me and that made him sigh.

It seemed like a sigh of relief; he was all smiles after that so I am hoping I am correct. I am going to look into motion sickness medicine for him, I am not sure if he can take it, and try to transition back into car riding. Slow and steady like. I used to always get car sick, but I would fall asleep that is how I dealt with it. I fell asleep in the car all the time – it drove my mom batty. She did not understand why I did that, especially when it was a five or ten minute drive. I think it mostly bothered her because I did not sleep any other time. At home I was up from the crack of dawn to wee wee dark and eerie hours.

Back to the story…

So off we went to the journey of my childhood. It was a strange feeling seeing so many familiar things mixed with new unknown things. In a way, I had expected everything to be just as I left it when I was a 13-year-old girl. When I left, I never wanted to see it again. This place held the largest chunk of my bullying. It was dark, and evil. However, it was beautiful, and full my pleasant memories of my mom and me. (Others may not think they were all that pleasant, but I do.) It was a giant monster with tentacle arms that swung around grabbing and clawing at me spewing the words of mean little children, and boys hurting me, or destroying my belongings.

It was the most gorgeous place on the planet.

Surrounded by lush greenery, encamping a small world that outsiders did not know. It has dirt, rocks, speed bumps, gravel, cracks, hills, critters, and books and books of tales that were formed in my imagination with my stuffed animals, while Barbie and her friends happily watched. After, I had dressed them in their proper attire, and placed them in lines against my wall. I could never pull out stories for Barbie and Ken, but I could for my favorite yellow stuffed turtle, while sniffing a Strawberry Shortcake figure.

When I got to the entrance, it was different.

What seemed like miles and miles away was a rather short distance from the mailboxes. My bus stop had LOST its rocks! There used to be huge rocks at the entrance, possibly not so huge, but they were to me and I loved them so much. I would soak into them at the bus stop trying to ignore the other kids. I stared at their lines and details, I rubbed them and caressed when no one was looking, AND they are gone! Except for a small one in comparison that was sitting there all alone.

A part of me felt gone.

I felt so odd.

I decided to keep going to the place that held all of the mailboxes. This was the place we had to stay sheltered from the rain, the snow; I would try to cower in here some days so the mean boys would not see me. I had flashes of so many memories. My possessions being destroyed, being hit with rocks or words, mocked, told how ugly, or stupid I was. People saying mean things about my mom because she was a single parent. Things about my dad because he was not around. My birthmark the butt of all kinds of jokes, the group of kids laughs covering me, consuming me, and me shutting down into a stare. The transition from this into laughing and mocking myself before they could…

It all unraveled before my eyes here.

I took my picture and drove on.

As I drove to the very back of the trailer park, I felt the words of my past evaporating. I watched them turning to smoke and leaving. I was not sure what that meant, but that was what my mind was doing. I still felt the ache from the bullies, but their gargantuan words that used to take over my brain were disappearing. Driving through I remembered so many details. I remembered where I walked, rode my bike, studied critters, collected rocks, played with gravel from the street falling apart, the cracks I followed leading me to butterflies.

I remembered my childhood world.

As I turned the corner to get to my lot, my heart fell.

The huge dirt hills, the lush grand trees, the never-ending turning cul-da-sac was abruptly stopped. There was a wall of a fence and homes were destroying the once amazing view and home to all kinds of critters. Then, I lost my words. My home was gone! My lot was empty! My HUGE yard was not huge at all. My swamp that was center for Frogville had dried up and weeds replaced it. My driveway had shrunk and was being eaten by cracks and weeds. My shed that was a grand castle complete with moat and drawbridge – GONE!

I had been erased!

“OMG! I really do not exist!”

Were the words that pierced my brain for a moment, until I heard my kids laughing. I got out of the car and took pictures. All of my memories felt as if they were swallowed up into a black hole. The chunk of my life, the childhood that I had so tightly held onto was captured in some tornado of the past. I did not know how I felt. I wanted to cry. My body was numb. I did not realize how attached I was to that trailer, and our lot. I hated it and loved it at the same time.

Now all I have are the memories of my childhood, with no concrete object.

And I heard the giggles in the back seat.

I got in the car and Ariel asked, “What’s wrong mom?” I said, “Well my home is gone. My hills are gone, everything is gone.” Her and Joshua both were not too concerned and informed me that we have a home. I am so glad I took them with me. I was not sure what I was feeling I am still a bit thrown by the whole thing, but they surrounded me with joy. Their uncontrollable giggling and singing on the way home drown out any residue from negative associations.

I drove away hearing the bullies and the hurt disappear.

I felt my sad heart filling with tears at the thought of my childhood home being gone, but I was also filled with delight that my childhood home was no longer frightening. The pain that once stood in that place was not there. All of the fears, aches, hurt of a little Angel who had to become an adult very quickly went into their proper place. What was left was the happy memories and all of the great things that did happen… the moments with my mom, my imagination running wild, dances and concerts I put on, my yard that was a gymnastics mat, my porch with a rinky-dink 3 foot pool that I refused to get out of, the fire flies that sang with me at night – those are some of the memories that live on.

The bullies are long gone, and their words do not live here anymore.

I have a new home and it is not in a painful past. It is in a promising future. I am still feeling heartache about this. I am not sure why. It could be the unexpectedness of it. I had expected to see my home, and my woods that I loved so much. I was not prepared for them to be gone. It felt like they were ripped off the face of the planet, and I sat there feeling the open wounds. I know I am dramatic, but that is what it felt like. I think this was very good for me. I am happy that I went and I realized that the big scary monsters were no longer there. They had vanished without a trace, and so did their words that had attached themselves to me. They are gone, and so is the past that hurt me so much. Don’t get me wrong I still feel the pains, I still live with the damage that happened, but it does not control my thoughts or me.

It is slowly, (starting rapidly) to leave my mind and new thoughts are taking over.

Daniel Loving the Swing

Ariel the Hunter

Joshua Hanging Around

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05/17/12

Need A Dose Of Happy

Things that go up must come down. I have come down, but I choose not to talk about that right now. No, no! (Well, I share a little bit at the end.) I am going to share happy. I will share what the kids said they will be when they grow up. Yesterday, I was reading to Daniel. He had pulled a collection of books about planets. Pure awesomeness! We were loving it, his favorite planet is Earth mine is Mars. I asked him if he was going to be an astronaut when he grew up, he said “No.” He told me how much he liked the rings around Saturn so I asked him if he was going to be an astronomer, he said “No.” So I asked “How about a physicist?” He asked “What is that?”

I explained it to him and asked if that sounded like fun.

He said “Yes, but I am not going to work when I grow up.” This made me laugh so I asked “What are you going to do? You will need money to support yourself.” He said ”I am staying home.” He then, went on to say that he wanted to be a scientist, that studies planets, but he will live at home. Ha ha ha Well he is seven so it is not that close for him to make these types of decisions. I asked Joshua this morning because last night Ariel went into a detailed description of what she wants to do when she grows up. She shared all of her details with David. (This topic comes up frequently around here because Ariel is very concerned with her future, and it gets all of us thinking about it.)

I will share hers in a moment, she has since added to job listings.

Joshua told me this morning that he was going to be a “scientist doctor.” “I want to study the moon. All because of that movie. (Despicable Me) I want to see the moon.” (giggle, giggle) Daniel repeated what Joshua said and added “Me too!” It was ironic last night that Ariel and David started discussing hypothermia which led into the conversation of Ariel sharing what she was going to do when she grows up. I had not heard the conversation and I am thankful that David wrote down what she said. The ironic part was that I was writing a poem about snowflakes and cold, along with reading quotes from the movie Alive.

Here is what she shared:

When I am older, I will create a box full of medicine.
When you take it, your body will be stronger.
So it will be easier to fix your hands, your fingers, your eyes if you are blind, and your toes.
Then, you will have them back again as if they were brand new.

Ariel shares with me frequently all of the things she plans to do.

She has a passion to save the environment, and animals and tells me ways that she will help save earth when she gets older. She has a ton of ideas that usually involve saving the planet, animals, and people. While I was talking to the boys about what they wanted to do, Ariel added that she wanted to be a marine biologist.

Here is our conversation.

Ariel: I want to be a marine biologist too.

Me: Do you know what a marine biologist is?

Ariel: Yes, it’s a person who studies animals in the water.
I want to study them and other animals, and discover animals never found before!
When I am a teenager I am going to write because I am going to be a writer too.

These guys make me giggle so much.

While I am sharing I will add some quotes from them in the last few weeks. They crack me up. Some of you may have seen these already, but I think they are worth rereading…I am their mom!

Daniel: Hey mom, are freezing hot dogs called cool dogs? (I laughed so hard I almost could not answer. I told him yes, believe me that was the best thing to say.)

Joshua: What? What? Why are you looking at me? You think I have boxers on or something?

(Ariel and I were sitting on the couch, she was reading X-Men Volume II, telling me how much she liked Beast and Night Crawler, stopping her conversational flow:

Ariel: I don’t know why, but I like creatures much more than humans.

Needing a dose of happy today and that worked.

I had another maintenance guy come today to fix the ice maker he was here yesterday, but could not fix it without permission. He had to replace it. The dishwasher guy finally came today – that was a huge fiasco that I do not feel like talking about, but yeah…they did not come last week. AND he cannot fix it until May 29th, which happens to be the day of Daniel’s reevaluation. Daniel and I will be gone so David will be here to handle it. I have still been washing the dishes by hand, and last night I ran out of dish washing liquid. I have dishes in the sink and it makes me want to cry. Sounds silly, I know. It is not really the dishes, there are several other things, but I would feel better if I had the dishes clean and put away.

The store does not sound like a place I want to go to tonight.

Oh, well I think I need another dose of happy after writing about that. This song was in my YouTube feed I thinks it’s fun. I am head bobbin’ “Like a Lady” Hee hee Oh, and some sky/nature shots to share. Zappy!

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03/20/12

Childlike And Not Ashamed

Some people on the autism spectrum take offense when being compared to being childlike, or having the mind of a child. I can understand their point of view. I think it depends on many factors such as who is making the comment, how the comment is made, or the context of how it is stated. Normally, I think of it as a great compliment. (now) I do not intend to grow out of my childlikeness. I think the problem may be compartmentalizing people and treating those of us with that quality like we are children, or as if we are incapable because of our childlikeness. That is not the case — we are fully capable of being adult/childlike at the same time. I am not referring to acting like a child there is a big difference. I know several adults who are not on the spectrum who act like five year old children it’s not because they are full of wonder. I am talking about curiosity and drive to figure out our world. The excitement in exploration, and discovery. The ability to stay in awe at the world around us, and beyond. The desire to walk in the imagination.

Those of us like this do not settle easily with simple answers.

We do not find it easy to go with the flow. We want to ask questions, gather information, come to a hypothesis, and then, try out our hypothesis. Many “grown-ups” tend to stop this process. The book I have been reading The Curiosity Cycle has made several connections for me in this area. It seems like children/adults on the spectrum are taught to stop their curiosity process and focus more on the adapting, and learning how to behave process. Other children seem to be taught the art of memorization. It is very important for autistics to learn to navigate, and adapt to our world. However, stopping a curious mind could be detrimental to discovering self. I think being creative and learning to use our unique perspective is just as important. Our creativity should not be replaced – we should focus on more ways to integrate these talents and unique ways into our everyday learning. We do need direction and implementation for our curious minds. I read The Big Lesson of a Little Prince: (Re)capture the Creativity of Childhood today and it got me thinking about all of this in detail. I have been observing for months the state of our society.

It feels like we are at a pivotal time in history.

There is the smell of change in the air in multiple areas. If we look at history, we are experiencing many birthing pains of change that runs its course throughout the centuries. Every era has its cause it seems that autism and the shift in how society looks at disabilities could be ours. (I am only speculating.) The autism talk is stirring quite a bit of flares between camps, there are many more voices and now even more voices of those in the special needs/disability community. Along with that, we have media quickly racing to mold the image of what an “autistic” person looks and acts like. There are many good things about getting the word autism out there, and exposing our culture to the idea of autistic people as real genuine people. There are negatives as well like stereotyping autistic people/children. It is not surprising in the least – media does a great job at taking conditions, or differences defining it (inaccurately many times) for our society. If I start talking about this it will be a full on rant so I will stop, BUT I will say that media does a wonderful (annoyed tone) job keeping stereotypical characters at the forefront.

Creativity in general feels like it is at a lull.

What I do appreciate about all of our media outlets is the ability to discover the many talented musicians, artists, authors, filmmakers, and all around brilliant talented people out there. I love how they are not waiting around for the go ahead to bust out their talents. They are just doing it. It is awesome to watch. It feels like we are at the bottom of a volcano watching the smoke rise — each puff we are just waiting for it to erupt in awesomeness. In addition, when it does erupt it will be so exciting, the smoke puffs already are, imagine the explosion of talent lava. I have a feeling we haven’t seen anything yet. I have to stop myself I am on a tangent. Back to that article I read. I will share a section of it for you to get a taste.

It is the rare person who is able to hold on to the sense of wonderment, of presence, of sheer enjoyment of life and its possibilities that is so apparent in our younger selves. As we age, we gain experience. We become better able to exercise self-control. We become more in command of our faculties, our thoughts, our desires. But somehow, we lose sight of the effortless ability to take in the world in full. The very experience that helps us become successful threatens to limit our imagination and our sense of the possible. When did experience ever limit the fantasy of a child?

As children, we are remarkably aware. We absorb and process information at a speed that we’ll never again come close to achieving. New sights, new sounds, new smells, new people, new emotions, new experiences: we are learning about our world and its possibilities. Everything is new, everything is exciting, everything engenders curiosity. And because of the inherent newness of our surroundings, we are exquisitely alert; we are absorbed; we take it all in. Who knows when it might come in handy?

But as we grow older, the blasé factor increases exponentially. Been there, done that, don’t need to pay attention to this, and when in the world will I ever need to know or use that. Before we know it, we have shed that innate attentiveness, engagement, and curiosity for a host of passive, mindless habits. And even when we want to engage, we no longer have that childhood luxury. Gone are the days where our main job was to learn, to absorb, to interact; we now have other, more pressing (or so we think) responsibilities to attend to and demands on our minds to address.

And as the demands on our attention increase—an all too real concern as the pressures of multitasking grow in the increasingly 24/7 digital age—so, too, does our actual attention decrease. As it does so, we become less and less able to know or notice our own thought habits, and more and more allow our minds to dictate our judgments and decisions, instead of the other way around.

~ Maria Konnikova

As I read this article, I was struck with sadness.

Some assumptions that were made caused me to evaluate her words a little more, but I realized that this article is tapping into the masses way of thinking. It made me recall that at around 25 or 26 years old, I decided that I clearly had my life all wrong. Years, and years of people correcting me and telling me that I needed to be a certain way was sinking in. As I recollect though, it didn’t matter. I never stopped my curiosity, but I did try to conform my imagination. I also tried to make it go away at one point in my life. I found it to be too difficult for me to discern between reality and imagination.

I was squelching every part of me.

People around me made me feel that my imagination was something to fear, or be ashamed of as an adult. It was too wild, too juvenile, too serious (oxymoron) — I learned to hide my imagination, and keep my wonderment a secret. I am still in the process of learning to share my imagination. I was so severely confused by my imagination at one time that I never wanted to share it again. After reading this article, it became clear that I wasn’t the problem. Other people (adults) just didn’t get it and quite frankly never have until now. I finally realized that I have been with the wrong clan that is all. My mind played back my time as an adult and much has been spent with children.

I fit in better with them. (And animals.)

I like their openness, honesty, curiosity, and freedom. Discovering adults (On the spectrum, not on the spectrum people in general.) who are like this has been refreshing, and has brought me much hope. Just reading their thoughts brings me comfort and clarity. I am fully capable of adult things, but my mind has many childlike qualities as well. I have no intention of trying to hide these qualities any longer. In the article, the author briefly spoke about a study that was done in 2010 by a group of psychologists who asked a group of college students to write an essay based on this question: “Imagine school is cancelled for today. What would you do, think, and feel?” “The students answered the same question. But for one group, a single sentence was added to the instruction: You are seven years old.”

The results:

“Those participants who were in the seven-year-old condition exhibited significantly higher levels of originality in thought. Both their verbal and figural responses left their more adult-minded counterparts in the dust.”

“Imagining yourself a child, it seems, can quite literally make your mind more flexible, more original, more open to creative input and more capable of generating creative output—a nice complement to past findings that laughter and positive mood have much the same effect.”

~ Maria Konnikova

I thought the whole article was a great read.

It gave me some things to ponder. It got me thinking about those who are on the autism spectrum, as well as other “eccentric” creative people. Why do we want to change this type of thinking? Why is there an underlying conformity to turn the thoughts of our children into “adult” thinking when it seems to be hindering to their creativity? Is this what has happened in our society? Have we created bored adults now who find more pleasure in reality shows than being curious and creative? I am just throwing these questions out I am not suggesting anything; my mind is wondering “type loud”. (Definition of type loud: Making aware the flowing random thoughts in my mind that would ordinarily be spoken out loud.)

I think the autistic mind is a great gift in this aspect.

That is not to imply greatness, or that we have no problems. I was very pleased to hear the doctor from the symposium say that the issues with Aspergers and high functioning autism are just as real and detrimental in their own ways. Our problems are very real and should not be down played just because we have the perception of doing well in society. We see the world differently, we can seem very childlike at times, starting from childhood on we need to know that it is a good thing to have a childlike mind. We also need people to be supportive in helping us know how to not be taken advantage of for our vulnerability, or made to feel ignorant or stupid because of the way we see the world. I think a lot of this can be helped if we teach children and adults on the spectrum how to be self-aware. I am feeling another post brewing from that statement.

I think I will save it for April. (Autism Awareness Month)

Becoming more self-aware can help us hone in on our talents and appreciate how our mind works. It will help us start teaching our generation of young ones now and the generations to come who they are and empower them to walk in their talents. I think that our world of technology and our fight for acceptance, and understanding is going to change the way creativity is defined. I can’t wait until my brain is actually hooked up to a computer like I always wanted. Did I say that type loud? My bad! Ha ha ha Kidding! For laughs if you were wondering what is on my mind the majority of the time you can read many of my thoughts on the Paranoid Parrot! Holy Smokes! How did these people get so many of my thoughts on this meme?? Are they tapping into my brain with some sort of electronic psychic device? (That statement will make more sense if you go to the meme.) Yikes! Lol!

(I may end up editing this more, but I have to start dinner so I am posting anyway. Why? It is an anxiety lesson. I am feeling anxious about this post and need to deal with it! )

I’ll give you one for sport.

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02/5/12

Evading A Topic…John Keats Anyone?

I just spent the larger part of the morning writing about anger. It ended up being much longer than I had hoped, and opened up things that I had not anticipated. Great! Now I have to process anger. Well…My track record has been good with processing emotions so I will cling to the recent positive experiences that have transpired by tackling them head on. BUT anger is very hard for me — it is tied into a multiple of other emotions. I have never learned how to handle or express my anger properly. I also do not know how to handle someone else’s anger. That is a whole topic on its own.

Instead of exposing myself when I do not feel quite ready I will talk about John Keats.

Has anyone ever thought John Keats was an Aspie? I was just curious. I did not see it when I searched, but I did find that he suffered from depression. However, as I read some of his personal writings I thought it was interesting and felt very familiar. I read several things about John Keats last night. Then, ABC Local Conversation with Richard Filder “Tony Attwood” was on fb this morning that of course, I got sucked into because they used quotes from Mr. Darcy in the 1995 TV mini-series version of Pride and Prejudice. Which happened to be the first thing I saw with Colin Firth, and since I do adore Mr. Darcy ever so I got a little fixated with Colin. Don’t try to figure it out, I don’t know either.

Dr. Tony describes an Aspie mother and I said:”YES!”

He basically described many things in my life, and I am sure many others out there who need some confirmation today would find comfort listening to this. He is focusing more on women and girls later in the talk. He mentioned how AS girls can escape into imaginary worlds, and have imaginary friends. It made me laugh because yesterday I was talking out loud as an owl and a raven. They were my friends telling me the story that I am working on. I know that they were not real. It is just how my mind works. It is so funny how this talk is confirming so much of what I wrote out about dealing with anger. I am making more connections. It was confirming about what I am currently doing to try to find new coping mechanisms. It is confirming about me being a whistle-blower, my sensory intuition, my spy like qualities , and many other things. It is a great talk. I recommend listening to it.

Ok, back to John Keats.

This site Keats’ Kingdom had interesting facts like “Keats when he became a published poet collected every scrap of paper containing his earlier poems and burnt them as he considered them to be awful.” Um…no comment. Here are some excerpts that I found interesting as well. I am going to add my comments and indicate them by beginning with *.

Sent to Fanny Brawne February 1820

“For some reason or other your last night’s note was not so treasurable as former ones. I would fain that you call me Love still. To see you happy and in high spirits is a great consolation to me – still let me believe that you are not half as happy as my restoration would make you”

- Shows how Keats could be very selfish and inwards-thinking. Jealous and demanding

* The author here claims that Keats is being “Jealous and demanding” I question that after reading about his life. From my Aspie perspective (which really means nothing I am just stimming) I would say he is confused by her seeming happiness without him. He does not want her to feel unhappy, he treasures her joy, but he needs to know that she is missing him as much as he is missing her. He is feeling intense emotions that he felt she was feeling as well. However, by her note he is unsure which causes him to doubt her feelings. This confusion my life has often been labeled as jealousy and being demanding. He was consumed by her. In past writings he made it clear that he was uncomfortable around woman. I will share more of that later.

I wonder how many Aspies have been accused of being jealous or demanding when the reality is, we do not understand the social dynamics going on. I also wonder how often we act out in this because like Tony said in the above talk we prefer one-on-one instead of multiple people. The addition of another person can cause confusion about the relationship, and the relationship with the additional person. Relationships are so difficult. Is it that when we decide to give someone our affections we expect the same amount in return? If we see them being happy with others it could make us feel inadequate to the relationship? I don’t know these are the thoughts popping in my head at the moment. I am writing this on the fly.

“My sweet creature”
“I wander at the Beauty which has kept up the spell so fervently”

- It is strange that Keats should refer to his muse as a creature rather than a woman. Later on, he suggests that she has bewitched him, and can’t understand why she’s captivated him so much.
Fanny must have been somewhat confused by this, as Keats paints a picture of himself as being in love with Fanny, but for no particular reason except that she’s bewitched him.

* I do not find this strange at all. I express my love through animals, nature, colors, or numbers in my poetry or stories. I am able to confess my real emotions through the way I see creatures, or the world. I am not sure he was expressing that he was bewitched, but possibly he was able to express his affections in that way because it felt safer. He had never been in love before, it could have been too overwhelming to say: “Fanny, I love you”. He could have been terrified of the words — only able to express them through poems that indirectly, but cryptically revealed his true passions.

It is far easier to express your love imagining a creature as your desire of affection rather than the actual person. The creature will not reject you, and possibly he was purposely being cryptic because it was his cherished love that he did not want tainted by anyone else. Possibly she was the only one who understood what he was saying. I do have a kind of tragic love story brewing from the owl and the raven so my imagination could be taking flight here, but I will not expose anything. This is too fun.

Sent to Fanny Brawne June 1820

“..as usual I have been occupied with nothing but you: I wish I could say in an agreeable manner. I am tormented day and night”
“You are to me an object intensely desirable- the air I breathe in a room empty of you is unhealthy”

- It’s clear that Keats is hopelessly in love with Fanny. But as the letter goes on, the tone changes, almost becoming patronising:

“.. you have a thousand activities- you can be happy without me”
“You do not feel as I do- you do not know what it is to love”
“Ask yourself how many unhappy hours Keats has caused you in Lonliness”

- He just assumes Fanny doesn’t care that much for him, or perhaps he’s trying to provoke a response so that he can feel better? (assuming she will be kind in her reply)

* I do not think he is trying to provoke a reply here. Maybe he is I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem to go along with his character. Imagine thinking that you would never find a person that you could have such strong feelings for, add being confused by the social dynamics of that species, to discover one has caught your affections and seems to have the same affections. It would be scary, and if you have been abandoned before, such as he was as a child it would prove to be very challenging to trust your emotions and those of the other person. I think he has found that connection that he had never felt before and he does not know what else to with it. It is confusing to see her happy without him when he is so miserable without her.

It is hard to explain for me with friends, and even family it has been difficult to understand how people are so able to move forward without me. I have felt like it did not matter if I was around or not. Surely they never cared for me as they said they did because they are perfectly fine without me. It is part of the “all or nothing” mindset. I am getting a lot better in this area, though it is hard for me to grasp sometimes. It is not that I want them to be miserable, I just want to know that they miss me, I matter, and that they think of me. Just as I think of them, maybe not as obsessively, but at least fleeting happy thoughts. Lol! (I am not always obsessive…really…ok, about people anyway. )

It’s hard to understand where I stand in relationships.

I have expressed it before that I need someone to tell me if we are friends I will not figure it out. Well after years maybe. Like my one friend here, it took me two years to finally understand that we are good friends. I didn’t know this until a few months ago. I figured since we had not seen each other in so long that we were done being friends. I just assumed that we were finished with any kind of friendship and let it go since I had not seen her or heard from her in a while. I didn’t have any ill feelings — I just thought well it was a good run for me. Wow, that sounds kind of strange now that I wrote it out. I’ll leave it. More on Keats…

I found these letters on this site John Keats and Fanny Brawn.

Keats felt uncomfortable with women and contemptuous of them. In July 1818, he wrote:

… I am certain I have not a right feeling towards Women–at this moment I am striving to be just to them but I cannot–Is it because they fall so far beneath my Boyish imagination? When I was a Schoolboy I thought a fair Woman a pure Goddess, my mind was a soft nest in which some one of them slept though she knew it not–I have no right to expect more than their reality.

I thought them etherial above Men–I find them perhaps equal…. I do not like to think insults in a Lady’s Company–I commit a Crime with her which absence would have not known–Is it not extraordinary? When among Men I have no evil thoughts, no malice, no spleen–I feel free to speak or to be silent–I can listen and from every one I can learn–my hands are in my pockets I am free from all suspicion and comfortable. When I am among Women I have evil thoughts, malice spleen–I cannot speak or be silent–I am full of Suspicions and therefore listen to no thing–I am in a hurry to be gone–You must be charitable and put all this perversity to my being disappointed since Boyhood–. . .

I could say a good deal about this but I will leave it in hopes of better and more worthy dispositions–and also content that I am wronging no one, for after all I do think better of Womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.

* Hee hee I love it! I feel the same about certain women. Sorry it’s true, and I have felt the same about certain men. Indeed. The next part amused me very much. Not in a sick way, just in a familiar and comfortable way. He was soon to meet the love of his life Fanny Brawne which makes this whole story very tragic, sad, wonderful and glorious at the same time.

It is not surprising that he would rather not marry, preferring solitude, the life of the imagination, and the appreciation of beauty:

…I hope I shall never marry. Though the most beautiful Creature were waiting for me at the end of a Journey or a walk; though the carpet were of Silk, the Curtains of the morning Clouds; the chairs and Sofa stuffed with Cygnet’s down; the food Manna, the Wine beyond Claret, the Window opening on Winandermere, I should not feel–or rather my Happiness would not be so fine, as my Solitude is sublime.

Then instead of what I have described, there is a Sublimity to welcome me home–The roaring of the wind is my wife and the Stars through the windowpane are my Children. The mighty abstract Idea I have of Beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness–an amiable wife and sweet Children I contemplate as a part of that Beauty. but I must have a thousand of those beautiful particles to fill up my heart. I feel more and more every day, as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone but in a thousand worlds–No sooner am I alone than shapes of epic greatness are stationed around me, and serve my Spirit. . .

Letter, Oct 1818

He goes on to explain, “the opinion I have of the generallity of women–who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a Sugar Plum than my time, form a barrier against Matrimony which I rejoice in. “

I had not read all about John Keats until yesterday.

I had read his poetry before, but I had not dabbled into his life. I did not know any of this and ironically the story that is playing around in my head has very similar themes. I am not claiming that John Keats had Aspergers I am just seeing parallels for myself. And playing around to help me not get consumed in loops that I do need to get caught up in. I do find his life, and his love very interesting and I can relate very much to many of the things that I read. Who doesn’t want to consume information about John Keats? Come on! (giggle, giggle)

Here are a few links that I read:

John Keats

The Life of John Keats

The Grasshopper and The Cricket (Poem)

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01/29/12

Llama Llama Llama Llama Llama

The title is from an Animaniacs cartoon I watched years ago, I actually watched it again this morning with the kids. The title of this particular toon is “Wally Llama”. Here is an episode summary:

(Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Short) ”Wally Llama who lives on top of a mountain in the Himalayas is the wisest creature in the world. After he grows sick of answering questions he vows to stop for the rest of the day. The Warners arrive and pester him to answer one question. Eventually he gives in, but when he hears the question he goes crazy because he cannot figure out the answer. The question is why do hot dogs come in packages of ten, and hot dog buns come in packages of eight?

There are numerous reasons why I relate very much to this episode.

One being the question that the Animaniacs ask at the end “Why do hot dogs come in packages of ten, and hot dog buns come in packages of eight?” This is the type of question that I get all day long from my own little Animaniacs, but sometimes it is a bit too much. The main reason why I chose to talk about this today is because I took Wally Llama’s coping skills as my own years ago after watching the episode. I was a supervisor in a stressful job, living in a stressful environment and when I would get overwhelmed I would close my eyes, plop down on the floor, (I did not care if it was the middle of the store or if I crossed my legs in a chair in the middle of a restaurant.) place my hands up, and repeat “Llama, llama, llama, llama, llama” Yes, I did. I would not always plop down, but I would hold my hands up in meditation position, close my eyes, and repeat llama.

Most people would laugh and that would help me laugh.

Once I started laughing I was able to cope. This week has been a bit rough at times and our 2319! Plan has not been working. I was at my wits end with the boys the other day because they are having such miscommunication that it is was causing some serious meltdowns. I was getting so frustrated at not knowing how to deal with it that out of desperation I said: “Come on boys sit down criss cross applesauce. Let’s close our eyes, put our hands up like in Yoga, and you say what Mommy says.” I then said: “Llama” over and over and they said it with me within a few minutes we were all laughing and calm. After that, we were able to talk calmly about what had happened and everything was cleared up.

I have been doing it for days now.

It is working! (For the moment.) I can only find the clip of Wally Llama in Spanish which makes it sound even better. We purchased the episode off of iTunes. This week has been a huge week of progress as well… so I am not surprised by the meltdowns. All three of them have been practicing their handwriting, which is extremely stressful for them. They all have to use a lot of concentration and effort to practice writing, but they are doing so awesome. I started the Autism & Reading Comprehension this week as well and the boys are doing great! I was very surprised at how much Daniel does comprehend I shouldn’t be. All three of them comprehend, but they all three also show their comprehension through different ways. Ariel is way beyond in her reading and comprehension although — she is still enjoying doing the lessons with the boys. I really like the book and the lessons being laid out. I have to constantly try new things with the boys to keep them focused on reading.

Ariel reads all the time.

Daniel likes to read, but he can forget words. If I do not continually stick to a reading program he will lose interest and the words that he has learned. We then have to start all over again, not for all words, but the bigger ones. This also can be quite taxing on them, and cause meltdowns. They are doing great at many of the math concepts, but need more work with subtraction. I decided to focus on subtraction this week as well. I think that may have been a bit too much to add while starting something new with reading this week. Even though they are doing well with subtraction — I did not think through all of the new things that were happening this week…for all of us.

I get kind of freaky when I know that their evaluations are coming quickly.

I have several months, but I go in hyper-drive at times wanting to make sure they are at level and learning everything they need to be learning. AND I think that is why my mind pulled out Wally Llama. I need to make sure that I am not pushing too much. These guys are above-average in many of their academics and are constantly asking questions. It is so easy to miss the progress and things that are accomplished sitting right in front of you when you are constantly focused on the things you feel need to still be accomplished. I need to sit back and appreciate how much these guys know, and enjoy the way each of them see the world in such awesome and unique ways. I also found some Yoga DVD’s for kids that have been fun for us. We started them about two weeks ago. That is probably what triggered Wally Llama for me.

Maybe you would like to try it too, let me tell you sitting down and repeating “Llama” over and over can be quite amusing.

Here are the Yoga videos I am using with the kids.

YogaKids

Junior Yoga by Annette Lefterow (They are not as “enthused” with this one.)

AND I thought this was worth sharing as well. Everything You Thought You Knew About Learning Is Wrong

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01/28/12

My Brain Wide In The Sky

Emily Dickinson

Amanda Cass, Artist

Part One: Life
CXXVI

THE BRAIN is wider than the sky,
For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and you beside.

The brain is deeper than the sea,
For, hold them, blue to blue,
The one the other will absorb,
As sponges, buckets do.

The brain is just the weight of God,
For, lift them, pound for pound,
And they will differ, if they do,
As syllable from sound

I started reading Embracing the Wide Sky by Daniel Tammet yesterday.

I only got through the introduction because I ended up being quite busy and couldn’t sit and read anything. However, I am already intrigued by the intro alone. I have written about him before because I watched his TED talk back in November. The post has the link to the TED talk. I will allow him to explain his book.

Embracing the Wide Sky by Daniel Tammet Video

I have also read his book Born on a Blue Day and want to read it again, but I just don’t feel it is the right time yet. I need to continue to seek more understanding about how my mind works and not compare it to others. I have a tendency to seek out similarities, and then get too excited that someone else knows what I am talking about. This can distract me at times, mostly when it is in a book or music form because I can go and consume information about the author/musician.

Another whole way my brain works.

I discovered when I limit my knowledge to one particular subject my mind goes into a stiff black-and-white thinking and I am unable to see any other perspective. I am a consumer of information, but I also dump it. I call those moments “mind dumps” and allow all of the information that I am consumed to be written out and make connections to various things that can go back to my childhood all the way up to this second. Though Daniel states that “thinking” too much or information consumption can cause a lack of creativity in a sense, my mind does not work that way — completely.

The more knowledge I gain the more I become creative.

That is as long as I do a mind dump if I do not let it all go and allow it to fuse into my brain then, I do the very thing he is talking about. I actually end up getting stuck, and my brain gets chaotic. I find that he is correct then, for me anyway. Possibly we are all like that. Maybe it is not how much information that we are consuming — it is the type of information we consume. People tend to gravitate to what makes them feel “right” in their opinions maybe that is what causes us to lose our intelligence and our creativity.

I can only speak for myself and say a resounding: “Yes, that is correct.”

I lost intelligence when I limited myself to reading and gathering information on one topic through filtered resources. I was very intelligent in that topic, but I could not understand others not believing the same as I did. I could not comprehend others not conforming to my opinions. The reason was because I was only circling information. I was gathering information from different resources and people but, they all thought the same thing. I knew this because I would say things like: “That is what so and so said.” Then, run and find the book or their website to prove it to myself or someone else. My mind keeps record of what people say, what author wrote what, AND I “cyber-stalk” them. By doing that I would learn that these groups of people were one giant CLIQUE! They used the same publishers, and went to the same gatherings and many more things. I would like to say that this is limited to only one topic, however it’s not. I have discovered this in many of my topics that I consume.

It wasn’t until recently that I have discovered my intelligence again.

Rather, let me say all of the knowledge that I had packed away into my brain pretending like it did not exist. I did remember — I just doubted my intelligence because I trusted authority to be putting in as much time and consumption as I did when learning a topic. David said the other day that I never lost my reason or intelligence, I still reasoned and used my knowledge quite well. I would however, doubt and get confused with people who were supposed to be an authority on the topic. When they did not know, or showed lack of interest as I brought up inconsistencies, or questions I would fold and believe that somehow I was wrong.

I see now that my wandering mind is not wrong.

I shall continue to learn as a child, asking questions, keeping my brain full of activity, soar in my love affair with numbers and letters and let my brain travel to the wide sky to see what else can be learned. I think this book will help me accept my mind and way of thinking at a new level, and find even more compassion for how others think…in a more balanced way. I can be compassionate toward others way of thinking to the point of devaluing my own way of thinking. Awareness is the key!

Another book that I am reading is Introducing Fractals: A Graphic Guide this one is for simple pleasure.

(I’ll probably learn something…darn. Lol!)

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01/2/12

Living in Hide Mode

It is no secret that my mind is constantly going. It never stops, even in my sleep it seems to be trying to explain things to me. Apparently I am supposed to have listening ears, and I am gaining some major ground in my independence and creativity. Well according to some dreams interpretations, I can interpret it that way because I do like cats. If I did not like cats it would be a completely different outcome. I do like looking things up from all kinds of sources, but I know that the bottom line is my brain is processing what I already know.

The question is if I want to listen or not.

My dreams have managed to wake up some memories that I had forgotten. Many were traumatic, but I am in a good place to work through them. A main reason for this is gaining the understanding that you are allowed and validated in calling out the wrongs that have been done to you. It is valid to say that you are angry, upset, or affected emotionally in some way by what people have done. Realistically I know this, I teach my kids this, and I give them a voice to speak openly. I am constantly telling others the same thing, but for some reason it has not applied to me. I have said that it does, but I did not accept it. I still held on to guilt about speaking out my fears, anger, hurts, and even joys.

It was a huge revelation to me to comprehend that it does not have to be black-and-white.

I watched a program where they were doing intense therapy, I was very happy to know that I have been on the right track with my own healing. I also got confirmation that in these months that I have been doing this emotional work my sudden outbreaks of emotional devastation and crying spurts are very normal. This has been hard to accept for a person who has not allowed true release while shedding tears — they were just salty waters that fell. The trauma and pain was still trapped inside a locked box. It also revealed that I had been in denial for years, which can cause you to think that you have dealt with things when you actually have not. Or that there was (is) no problem at all.

This explains my repeating loop pattern over certain events because I did not really deal with them.

It is very important to understand and accept too that there are many layers to trauma. One of my main problems was that I didn’t think that I was traumatized — I believed what people told me that I was “just overreacting”. I have clusters of trauma throughout my life, some of it more devastating because of my Aspie mind, but still some of the things that I have gone through “normal” people would have a hard time with as well. Trauma is trauma every person is affected differently, just like stress, and it all matters. We all have to deal with it or block in whatever way to help us cope.

I have managed a lot of my trauma by hiding.

I hid behind masks, I used mirroring as a way to cope, I used friends or significant others to shadow, I used alcohol, and various other things as a way to escape into my own world. I forgot the things that started me hiding my writings, poetry, and stories. I used to write songs also, but I would not dare tell someone that after the way dad responded. He didn’t really express any interest at all, but a few years later when my little sister wrote a song it was all he talked about. He told me about the events of it being created and then, when they came to visit us he played guitar for her and they both sang the song together. I was not jealous, I was confused. I was happy for her. I thought it was great, but I knew that I had to hide my response because my dad would have accused me of being jealous — I have been accused of being jealous of my sisters a lot. I am not we are completely different, and I like that. Many times my response to things like I just mentioned was taken as jealousy.

I was confused, I believe rightfully so.

AND I do not feel guilty for saying that. I cannot recall attempting to write any songs since then. While in high school my first boyfriend would invade my room. He read my diaries and that caused me to stop writing my true feelings. I wrote in my notebooks and hid them in my locker, he found them. I got in trouble, and one time he threw the spiral notebook at face cutting my cheek in the lunch room. In front of my “friends” one of which ended up being my second boyfriend, who did nothing. I will mention here as well that during lunch one day my second boyfriend to be called me “Moose Hicky”. I got up and left holding back the tears until I got to the bathroom. He was always making fun of me, but telling me that they were just jokes and that I should lighten up. He did that throughout our whole relationship.

I could not tell friend from foe, and I assumed that I was wrong and he was right.

I digress — my first boyfriend went through all of my things, all of the time. I started to hide things that I wrote in my basement. I would hide poems and things behind my cassette tape cases. I hid things in my books because he never touched my books. I hid my writings in my mom’s album sleeves. Then, came a day when all of my diaries were gone. I had not been writing “real” things in them because I knew that he would read them. I still started to panic though. They were gone. They were mine and they were gone. I asked my mom about them, but she was the extreme opposite and would not go in my room or touch anything of mine like that because of her parents invading her space while growing up. She swore that she would never do that to her children. She knew nothing about me or what was going on in my room unless it was too messy or I got in trouble then she would remove my doors so that I had no privacy at all.

I asked my step dad if he knew where they were, he claimed not to know.

I discovered later that he lied, when his truck was impounded after their divorce, the truck was in my mom’s name so she had to get it back and pay for it — I found them hidden under his seat. I also discovered a while later from my first boyfriend when my step dad and his friends would go deer hunting they would get drunk and stoned sitting around reading my diaries. My first boyfriend had similar connections in town since he and my step dad both did drugs. I was beyond devastated. I was sick for weeks, at least I had them back, but I stopped eating and sank into depression. From then on I made sure that I hid everything very well. I did not start sharing my writing again until I shared my poetry, songs, and other writings with family.

I received what felt like mostly indifference, silence or comparisons with other family members.

I will say not all of all them responded that way, but since it’s so hard to read people I was not sure what their responses meant. I assumed that my writings and what I had to share had little value. I still had the impact of my mom’s response from years earlier as well that stuck in my thoughts. I had hidden away my imagination and emotions and only allowed myself to write prayers or petitions to God. I still wrote, but I hid them on my computers, tucked away in the middle of prayer journals, and various other places never to be seen. I normally told no one that I wrote anything. I started writing stories again in 2009, but would not allow myself to finish. I didn’t begin writing poetry truly connecting to my own emotions or thoughts until I started the poetry blog. I actually started that one so I could use the “like” button, not to put my poetry out there, but I found that it was helping me. When I started sharing some of my short stories by creating another blog for them it started making me feel more comfortable. Slowly I have been working through my fear of sharing, and coming out of hiding even more.

It is a huge feat for me to overcome these fears and share what I write.

It wasn’t only that people read my innermost thoughts or violated me, but that they mocked me that helped to form these fears. My first boyfriend made fun of me or got angry and violent. I found out that my step dad and his friends sat around laughing and mocking me as well. I think I was between 14-15 years old when all of that happened. My first boyfriend continued this invasion of my notebooks, room, lockers, and later my car until I was finally able to be rid of him. That is another long story. All of this made me hide, and hide my writings. I have taken back my writing, and most days I feel comfortable with sharing. I welcome constructive criticism I do not see that as rejection, but a helpful tool. The difference with sharing now is that I am not being violated — I am sharing freely so now the fear lies in another form of rejection.

Though it does not consume me, well most days it doesn’t.

I managed to get some stories out in the past few months by forcing myself to not edit and just let the story flow. I have also been attempting story poems, or longer poems. I am trying new things. I have many hidden away on my computer, but I have been afraid to read them again because of what I may have written. I have only shared a few of them with people, and got derailed a bit my no response. I decided to treat it as I do with this blog I just write on here more freely than in the past, but I allow myself to share. That is one reason why I started my story blog to write a story and not care so much about the grammar, and writing rules. I wanted to allow myself to write whatever I felt. I was forcing myself to face my fear. I have allowed my imagination to go free. It takes a lot for me to share stories or poetry because I feel very exposed. They are a part of me that has not been allowed out for quite some time.

I think this, I can define as an accomplishment.

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12/9/11

Yes! I Did it!

I don’t know what happened to me yesterday, but after my mind dump I started hearing and seeing the words spoken to me over my lifetime. The negative words, and the actions I felt in a new light. I understood, I mean I truly understood that they were wrong and that it doesn’t matter how much someone says they care about you, they do not have the right to speak/treat you like that. I did not deserve any of the wrong treatment that I received, even in my worst of meltdowns. Meltdowns triggered by complete confusion and feeling the sting of words, but not understanding why, I may add.

I did not deserve that, no one does.

Something clicked for me yesterday and I am still not sure what. I do know that on November 25th something in me snapped. It was like something broke off me, literally I could feel the break. And I started writing. I have been writing ever since. Any spare moment I have the words have come flying out of my fingers. I have tried to write this story since I was a kid. I would always start it and then stop. I would have so many of them in my journals, on the computer, written on small pieces of paper, work papers, anything I would start the story and then stop. It is not the same story, but it familiar in feel and voice. I cannot recall all of them I started, but I clearly remember one that scared my mom.

She found it printed out on the printer I forgot to hide it in my room.

I was around 23 years old, I had to move back in with her. I devoted my life to work completely, and even stopped being social. I cut off all of the people that I had become so close to, and were my friends for many years. I didn’t turn back I had serious goals, and planned on achieving them. I started writing again during that time, I wrote a lot. I also drank a lot of beer which made some of my writings a little bit scary I admit. When my mom found it she read it and said that it was weird and felt icky. She didn’t like it at all. It was an expression of my emotions, they were real emotions. I had just gotten out of a relationship that ended violently, I had to move back home with my mom, and I no longer had friends, it was mostly my doing, but still I had emotions that I did not know how to express.

I had a similar response when I shared some of my poems and writings with my dad, about nine years ago.

I was also painting and drawing a lot during that time because my mom started to paint again. It’s funny that she does not count 8 years of her painting or all of the other paintings, and drawings she did throughout her life. She does it because she had not taken lessons, in her testimony for coming back to painting she only includes the time when she started taking lessons. She completely negates all of her paintings and drawings prior to seven years ago.

I think that is very telling.

Her gift of painting was stolen from her when she was young. I will share her own words at the bottom of this post. I have always encouraged my mom in her art, and so have many other people, but she never felt adequate. I painted and drew distorted faces during that time. Any time I would try to do something else it wouldn’t come out, I could only do these faces that had sad eyes or angry eyes. I could only make mouths that were big or small and never fitting the face, noses like arrows or squiggly, foreheads taking over the face, but they always had perfect hair. My mom hated my paintings, she doesn’t like things like, seeing distortion.

She would tell me to get them out of there, I would just throw them away.

After I would complete the faces though, I would sit and stare at them. I didn’t know why I did it. I didn’t want to do them. I wanted to paint something beautiful. I wanted to paint sunflowers or something like my mom. I wanted to paint what I paint now, happy 8′s, swirlys, and things that look like space. I wanted to write something beautiful, I wanted to write something that others found moving, but I could only write what both parents felt were ugly. I know they do not truly feel that way, I know that my mom can only read certain types of things and I know my dad likes to keep his joy so he will only read uplifting or agreeable things.

My emotions in their raw form through my writing hurt them.

I know that, and I am ok with that, but I did not understand it until this moment I think. I gave up on my story when I started church, I took on the attitude that I could only write about good things when it came to stories. I could journal, but not tell a story. In 2009 I started writing the story again, but it continued to branch off into other stories. I would write one, but then go into another. I wrote poems, and different parts of stories still feeling the guilt if I wrote anything that was my true feelings. If I truly expressed myself I felt the fear of making people feel bad, or worse yet them not liking it and telling me to get it out of here.

On November 25th, I broke down in tears and I sat down with my story rushing out of me.

The first few days were me pushing through and crying off and on to get it out. Then, it turned into my story coming alive. All of my fragmented stories of a lifetime started to come together. I shared with my mom last Saturday how many words I had gotten to and she said:”I wish I had known, I wish I would have understood. I would have had you writing like this when you were a kid.” It meant the world to me. Those words helped wash off many negative ones that had been holding on.

Yesterday started to get hard for me.

I was very close to the 50,000 mark and in the section I was writing it has the fictional character sharing her past, and it is revealing quite a bit about her. I couldn’t write for several hours, so I kept leaving it. I ended up watching the movie Sylvia, I found it by chance on streaming Netflix. I was looking up something for the kids. It is about Sylvia Plath the writer/poet. I had to fast forward through some parts, but it was rather timely. I had never read any of her writings until yesterday. I really didn’t know anything about her until yesterday. (I am not suffering from depression don’t worry.)

I finally sat down and the words came and through sobbing and laughing I wrote.

I hit 51,252 word count and I am still going. I broke through! I did it! All I have left is about four chapters I already have the storyline and how I will connect them. Then comes the editing and all of that jazz, but I got the large chunk of my story and I have it flowing, all at once in harmony in my mind. It is no longer fragmented and distorted. It has beauty and can feel cheery, it is also hard and challenging. That is who I am. It can be hard with the things that I share. It can be challenging because I speak things that many have told me I shouldn’t. I share what is inside of me, and I can’t change it. I accepted that part of me and it is pulling me together to be a little bit more whole than I used to be.

I do hope this is an encouraging post.

David has tried to encourage me into entering writing contests, and participate in National Novel Writing Month, but I do not do well with those things. I cannot be under a deadline, it stops me cold. I can only write when I feel free, not confined to grammar, deadlines, or other rules. NaNoWriMo is pretty cool though they have a young writers page and in April a Script Frenzy. I have written all of this because I want to remember this time, this year, this season when I took it back. I took the negative feelings and made something out them. I stopped listening to them, at least this time around and I made them productive.

I think my mom’s story is encouraging and I will share that now. (She is not long winded like me, she doesn’t like to write, she is a reader. )

Finally an Artist

For years I couldn’t even bring myself to say “I am an artist”. I’m not talented enough and who am I to say that? Over 40 years ago someone who I thought was an expert told me I had no talent and would just take up valuable space in an art class so I did not paint again until 7 years ago. Art did always enter in my life in many forms throughout the years. Now I am in galleries, have sold my art, have had my art published and more. What a lie I believed for so long. Why would I give others that much power over my life? I don’t have the answer to that question and I do have remorse that all those years I denied who I was but I have grown so much in who I am and as an artist in these last wonderful five years. It is a wonderful gift to bring joy to others through my art. If you have a love for something do not let anyone discourage you. Do it because you must to complete who you are. For no other reason.

And if you made it through this lengthy thing, I want to share a post that popped up on my facebook a little while ago.

Dealing With Negative Events This could explain why I have had to go over and over these events in my life, I completely disengaged, thinking that I had dealt with them. I am dealing with them now and though I am in a continual happy/sad state I am gaining a lot of understanding about my world past and present. It is also helping me be set free from those negative loops that have been so debilitating to me at times. My story is pulling all of my fragments together the negative and the positive, I am becoming whole and discovering what the word acceptance truly means. It can be long and repetitive, but I am growing and learning each time around.

A few of my mom’s paintings, she has tons! It is hard to choose.

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