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Expression without Protocol

On the spectrum is where I reside.

It’s where I learned what to say…how to act.

Robotic and monotone,

Actions never quite my own,

Repeating myself verbatim with same inflection…an undesired reaction,

Words borrowed from parental scripts.

I sit motionless…expressionless…mostly seen as less than,

Rather than, being treated like the rest and…

I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

Thoughts racing through my mind,

So much I want to share;

Do I dare?

Peers frown upon,

May even look down on,

Managing to talk down to,

But never getting around to,

Learning who I am.

So, here I am.

Gifted…still somewhat scripted,

Fumbling with choice,

Struggling daily to find my own voice;

Remembering all that I’ve been taught;

Communication’s raught.

Haunted by past transgressions,

Troubling instructions,

Finding my way towards speaking freely,

By way of constantly seeking…

Finally achieving;

Expression with meaning…

Autism’s Love: Making Connections

I am feeling very proud of myself right now. I’ve been working on my new facebook page Autism’s Love: Making Connections and launched it 4 days ago. My dream is to connect with special needs individuals and communities from around the world. I hope my page will be a fun and informative place to visit and share resources. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I get caught up in my own little world, always focusing on the tasks at hand. It’s good to take out time to see what is going on in other parts of the world and to see how others are dealing with their individual special needs. I love learning about different kinds of resources. Diversity is key for me. I’ve always loved learning about people and their cultures and now I’ve created an avenue personally connection to me to do so.

Welcome to my new obsession. 🙂 I hope my new page enlightens and inspires you.

Autism’s Love: Making Connections

Good Mama Karma

Does anyone have trouble teaching their spectrum child how to throw away empty containers when they are done?

About two weeks ago when planning for a shopping trip I neglected to get my son’s goldfish shacks. Well…I could take this as a bad mommy moment, but I am not responsible for my son’s snack cabinet…that is HIS responsibility.

I have tried on several occasions to teach my son to throw away the empties. I’ve even taken measure to walk him through our recycling process so he would know how to properly dispose of empty boxes and such. Of course that was all for not, because he had not yet processed that he should discard the empties to begin with. As it were, my “Good Mama Karma” (my newest catch fraise) offered up the perfect teaching opportunity. Sooo, as any good mama would do…I left the empty right where it stood. Days had gone by and I noticed little signs of mild disharmony. A little red snack bowl left on the kitchen counter…alone and empty. Hmmm, has the child been perusing the kitchen for his favored snack? I checked the cabinet and the empty was still there…just a little shifted. I leave it… A few more days pass and it is time for another trip to the grocery store. This time I ask my son if there is anything he can think of that he wants from the store. We go…he indicates nothing…okaaaaay. Later that night I hear my son growling in the kitchen. He’s had enough…(giggle giggle). Wait…let me translate my son’s growls for you, “What measure of mutiny has befallen me that I am STILL not able to find a reasonable snack to my liking IN…THIS…HOUSE!!!” Well…that’s what it sounded like to me. Opportunity has knocked…loudly. I seized the moment and took great delight in explaining to my son the practicality of disposing of empties once again and even took him through the recycling process in order to paint a complete picture. I think he’s got it this time… I’m gearing up for another shopping trip soon and guess what I found…a properly disposed of empty goldfish container. Bravo kiddo…job well done…

Thank you, Good Mama Karma 😉

Hi, it’s me…

I called you tonight.

Just to talk.

I wanted to connect with someone.

I know you’re not my mother,

But I thought you could give me love.

I guess you do but…

Not in the way I ask of you.

Though this is the first time I’ve asked of you.

I try to reach out to you.

We manage to connect by faith.

You speak to me about biblical things.

I appreciate that.

But there are times,

When I need you to put your bible aside,

And just listen.

Listen to what I am saying to you.

Can you feel what I’m trying to convey to you?

You tell me that you can say more when you know more.

What more do I need to say to you?

Do I have to spell it out to you?

Perhaps even script it for you?

I ask you to speak to me from your heart.

To please show me your compassion;

A spark of empathy,

A little sympathy.

Your words, they’re not your own.

They’re true, but no warmth is in them.

Again, I asked for your heart,

But you hid it away.

Instead you give me riddles.

For you they’re probably parables.

You feel discomfort now.

The subject has changed.

There’s little else to say.

Sorry to bother you Auntie.

I just called to talk.

You Can’t Hurt Me

“You can’t hurt me…”

What say you?

You speak an untruth.

You are hurt and are sore afraid.

Pain beyond measure…incomprehensible.

Who hurt you?

You vow that no one will hurt you again.

“You can’t hurt me…”

Walls thick.

Enemies surrounding you…

You strike out.

They must be hurt before they hurt you,

Even if it means hurting yourself to hurt them.

But you’re not hurting them.

They can’t see you.

Not the truth of you,

Only a shell of you.

“You can’t hurt me…”

You’re screaming to be heard,

But there is no sound.

They can’t hear you.

They won’t hear you.

Do you understand?

The readers of your words,

Can they see the bigger picture?

Or will they seek to prove you wrong?

Visions of a deeply wounded soul…

Blood drips from your words.

“You can’t hurt me…”

Doing the Right Thing or Not

Hurricane Andrea blew through last week and caused some flooding and wind damage in our general area. Unfortunately I have a building that is located in a flood zone. The rains weren’t too bad, but the street level is low and at its lowest point there was flooding which wreaked havoc for a moment. We had no idea how high the water level would get, so I called the power company to have the power shut off…better safe than sorry…right?  I’ll admit the jury may still be out on that one. Not because of any doubt about my decision to make that call, but because the power company made me feel like I was being bullied. I’d been given partial instructions on what to do and then punished for doing what I was told.

 I just don’t get it. Why is it that people don’t/won’t/can’t communicate in a way that is clear and concise? Why do they tell only part of the story and cause constant confusion?

I was told that I would need to have the building inspected in order to have the power restored. Not a problem. I called my electrician, had a preliminary inspection done and then made arrangements with the city for an official inspection. I was then told to that the power would be restored within 24 to 48 hours. As far as I could tell, there was no logical reason why it should take more than 24 hours to restore the power…or so it seemed.

After checking in several times and still no power, I decided to contact the power company again to see what the holdup was. There was no major flooding in the area, so there should be no delays. Upon speaking with a representative at the power company, I was informed that my account had been dissolved and I would have to apply for a new account. What sense does that make?! Where’s the logic? Why would a company create such a policy where a perfectly good, paid up account is dissolved because the owner of the account requests the power be cut for safety? Why couldn’t they just reinstate the power under the existing account? It’s not like the power was shut off due to non-payment and even in that, once the bill is paid the power would come back on under that same account…right? So what’s the difference between the power being shut off for non-payment as opposed to being shut off due to an emergency?!

I received a call from the power company wanting to confirm which building needed power. My son and I hopped into the car to race down the road to be present for the reinstatement of the power. Overrun with joy and anticipation I jump out of the car and ask, “How long will it be before the power is back on?” The young man said, “Ma’am, I’m just here to inspect the meter and to see if there is any current going to the building.” Umm, perhaps someone failed to inform this man that the power lines had been cut and there is no electricity going to the building…at all. Well…well, just another useless step in the grand scheme of things. Now I’m told that this man will place a call back to the company to dispatch a crew to reconnect the power. I thought that was what the Inspector was supposed to do…at least that’s what he told me. Nonetheless, a few hours later I received another call from the crew and they reconnected the power lines and all was well.

From the time I called to have the power shut off until the time it took to get the power restored was a total of 6 days. Thanks a lot corporate power company for succeeding in wasting unnecessary time, effort and money…as usual. One would think that you could come up with a more effective way to respond to your customers and a better turn-around-time for completion of services. I guess that would be too much like right, so here we are…trapped. We find ourselves at the mercy of corporate higher ups that spend way too much time on the golf course and are completely clueless as to how the companies they oversee operate.

I tip my locks to you…BRAVO!!!!! (sarcasm)

Bottom line, you just can’t trust what companies tell you. None of their agents ever have the same information. Isn’t there a better way to inform your staff of the company’s policies so they can convey up-to-date information to your patrons? Good grief, did anyone get the memo?

Perhaps more companies should be run by spectrumites like myself. Patrons would never have to worry about the head games these companies play. At the very least we would be sure to properly inform agents and patron of rules and procedures.

10 POSITIVE TRAITS OF ASPERGER’S

I find it fascinating that we on the spectrum are considered to be the strange ones.

No Words

His Stare

He stares into your eyes.

Searching you…reading you.

Feeling the pulse of you,

Energy surrounding you,

Embracing you.

This is how he makes sense you.

472

He turns away.

Lost in thought.

A gentle presence,

and quiet demeanor,

Strength of inner being,

 Flowing in expression and meaning.

No words are needed.

They…Them…Us…Me

What’s that noise?

What noise?

Nevermind.

Where is it?

Find it!

Here I am.

It must be stopped…

Destroyed.

You want to destroy it?

Find it.

Wait!

There it is…

It?!

Don’t you mean who?

Who?

Yes…

A little girl,

Girl…

Over there.

Where?

There…

I am here.

Can you hear her?

No…

Can’t you hear?

No…

Listen…

NO!!!

We’ll destroy it.

Why?

We loathe it.

Why?

Not perfect.

Tear it apart.

Put it together.

Is she alive?

No…not really.

 

Yes I am.

Look at it!

Hideous, monstrous…grotesque,

A real life Frankenstein.

People will run and scream.

Don’t say that…she’s beautiful.

 

Retched!

Imperfect!

Undesirable…Unforgivably…Useless!

Worthless!

Abomination!

Not good enough.

Not like us.

Send it back.

Back to where?

We don’t care!

 You can have it.

But she’s yours.

We don’t want it.

But she’s here.

No it isn’t.

I’m still here.

We’ll get another.

Let her stay.

It’ll be better.

She’ll be good…I know she will.

We don’t want it.

Mommy…daddy?

I Get So Frustrated!

Writing about myself is one of the hardest things I’ve ever tried to do. Yet I can’t stop trying. I need to get my words out, if for no one other than myself. I get so frustrated when reading others blogs. I love to read them and enjoy the content of their posts, but I find myself getting lost in envy over their fluidity of total expression. I wonder, do they struggle like I do? Do they sit at a little wooden desk and fret for countless days, months and hours…agonizing over every word, writing and re-writing…walking away and returning? Whenever I’m not in front of my computer I feel like I am about to burst at the seems. There is so much that wants to come out. Why is it so hard?!

Just when I think that I’ve figured it all out and am ready to open up the flood gates I go dry again. Where is inspiration? Isn’t it enough to live the story that I want to tell? My words feel emotionless and sterile. Yes, that would best describe it. Perhaps I’m trying to hard. Perhaps it just me and my disconnection to life. My mind won’t allow me to feel the fullness of my emotions. I guess it would be too much. Maybe I should just close my eyes and breathe… All I can see are words floating around in space…taunting me…haunting me. Memories flash before my eyes, yet I still feel nothing. I think I want to cry and scream, but I can’t. There’s nothing there…

I looked into the mirror once and saw a women mentally bludgeoned. I’ve been violated in every possible way. My spirit battered, broken and left for dead. My girth increasing and decreasing…increasing and decreasing…increasing and decreasing… I am OBESE!! I am UGLY!! I am UNWANTED!! I am UNLOVABLE!! There’s no escape. I’m going crazy, I need to release. Please God help me!!!!

I can walk through a house of mirrors and never see my own reflection. Conditioned to ignore the obvious. I live an illusion. I always have. Where there should have been love…there was none. Where there should have been protection…there was none. Where there should have been comfort…there was none. Where there should have been laughter, joy, fun, adventure…there was none. I have been imprisoned by life, my parents, my conditions and even my own mind… Flawed from head to toe…inside and out. I am queen of the misfits…discarded like a broke Christmas ornament. I want to see beauty, but I can’t. I know beauty lives inside. I want to be beautiful on the outside. I can’t see myself because I don’t want to. I don’t want to face the ugly truth. My friends, they tell me I’m beautiful, but they are just being kind.

I crawl out of my hole and begin to pick up the pieces. I try to make sense of what’s left of my life. I put on the face of strength for my child. I don’t want him to see me broken even though he already knows that I am. You see, he knows first hand the pain that is mine. When he was a toddler we used to visit my parents on the weekends. It would take most of the day for me to manage the thought… Hours of crying and vomiting and then slowing getting ready to face the beast. My dad, never satisfied, would always criticize me. One day it had gotten so bad that my precious little one ran over to me, jumped onto my lap and wrapped his arms around my neck…screaming and crying. He turned to look at my dad as if to say…leave my mommy alone. I hugged and kissed him and told him it was okay. We went home. There were many occasions like this, but I dare not miss a weekend. My parents insisted that we break bread together every Saturday. My mother still presenting the face of perfection. Still perpetuating the lie. Will it ever stop?

My parents are gone now. Would it be wrong for me to say that I am grateful? Should I feel guilty for feeling this way? My son can since that I am still haunted by my past. It is on those days that he hugs me and rubs my face to ensure me that it’s okay. I look at him in think how precious he is. He is perfect. He will never know the beatings, ridicule, disconnection, blame and hate that I endured. If only I too had been so precious to my parents.

I relish the joy and peace that we have in our home. My son will never have to question if he is loved. He will never feel the pain I felt. I thank God for that. I thank God that he made me strong enough to break the curse. I thank God for the blessing of my son and the gift of motherhood. Thank you God for showing me what parenting should be… How love should feel… What peace is…

It is because of my love for my son and my quest for healing that I take this journey. I want my son to have the absolute best of me. I want to be free. Not stuffing my pain, but releasing and letting it go…completely. That is my goal. And I will achieve this even if it takes me one letter at a time…

 

Copy of Me and Hunter 2 Favorite

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