I didn’t come up with the most intriguing of things to write about this morning, because the daily prompt was “how do you feel about cold weather.” I answered it last year, so I cannot answer it again. I think I said that I loved it as long as I was dressed appropriately, and I almost always am because I’m autistic and hate the weather on my skin, anyway. So, I tend to overdress and take layers off, rather than getting cold and hoping I find a cheap tourist trap that sells sweatshirts. It’s not worth it when if I wanted an FBI/CIA/DIA shirt I can just ask Zac for one and it will be official instead of a couple of threads being in the wrong place. Autistic people don’t do that.
That’s because autism is all about pattern recognition. Let’s take Chucks, for example. I hated rip-off Chucks because the design was off. I am not one of those people that says “close” is “good enough.” Sometimes, it’s more expensive to be autistic, which sounds funny until you add up the cost of the right clothes, the right shoes, the right everything so you can make it through the day without being irritated. Bombas socks are $60/box. Worth it. American Apparel t-shirts are at least $25/apiece. Worth it. Knit caps that don’t feel like they cost three dollars and will drive your ears insane are probably $25 as well. Worth it.
Clothes for autistic people are extraordinarily specific, because you’re trying to cut down on your sensory issues to make it easier to function in public. My friends would not like hanging out with me as much if I always acted like there was a rock in my shoe. There are only so many quirks a friend can take before you’re “embarrassing them.” I will have to say that this has only started to be a thing in the past year or so, because before that I would social mask within an inch of my life to be acceptable. I have found that I am much more happy being loud. Just put it all out there. People who are embarrassed by me don’t get the right to hear my stories anymore. I know at least one woman who does the same, and she’s not a part of my life anymore. We lost touch about 15 years ago, and I wish I could just have a friend date with her all to myself and lay it out there. I think we would both cry and find someone to confide in, but it’s not a relationship in which I would feel comfortable doing so anymore. However, I can empathize from here and hope that she’s still a fan, and thinks, “wow….. Leslie and I do have a little too much in common for me to ignore this.” We are two peas in a pod, and I wish we could help each other more now than we did then. Back then, we just picked on each other because our sensory issues are over the top and we just ignored them, choosing to be that kind of aggro that’s polite.
But all of the things I noticed in her are actually things she needs to notice in her. It’s not my bag, but I think it would help her to discover herself. That’s all I want to do from here. Hope that she does pick up on it eventually, because it will unlock her personality as easily as it did mine. I don’t have to sit there in silence. I can say things like “I’m autistic and I need you to be sensitive to the fact that florescent lights are way too bright for me. Please respect my quirks and I’ll respect all yours. David makes me use coasters even if it’s an insulated mug. It’s his quirk. I’m here for it. I don’t have to like anyone’s quirks. I need to not set people off. That’s true for any neurodivergent person, including me. If it’s a small thing you have to adjust that literally no one else cares about, but it will make an autistic person more comfortable, do it. Life is hard enough without people stepping all over your sensory issues. They won’t even register if you don’t say “I’m autistic and this is a real thing. I’m not just being dramatic.” Even if you do say you’re autistic, it’s 50/50 as to whether people will respect you or tell you to get over yourself. Neurotypical people are my nemesis when it comes to this, because you’re “making a big deal out of nothing.” No, you think that my brain works exactly like yours, and to you, I’m just “silly” or “rigid” or any number of things people say when they think your autistic quirks are stupid.
That’s the thing. We know they’re stupid. If we could figure out how to turn them off, we would.
We are also not children, just for the record. We are not acting childish when we need comfort items, we are not acting childish when we want to sit in the same spot every time, we are not acting childish because one shirt feels good and the other doesn’t and you can’t figure out why we don’t want to wear it EVER. None of it makes sense unless you also have my brain disorders, and I’m done. I might not rage in front of people as not to be rude, but I’ll rage about it here because this is a survival manual for someone else. Who that might be is anyone’s guess, but it’s here.
Let’s also not pretend your life as the friend or parent of a neurodivergent adult/child is harder than actually being autistic/ADHD, okay? Cut the shit. I’ve been accidentally involved with parents’ groups trying to find peer groups on Facebook, and I’ve never seen a bigger bunch of babies at times. Oh, you think it’s hard that your kid will only eat five things? What about how hard it is when your body rejects EVERYTHING except five things, and everyone just thinks you’re “picky” and “difficult.” Do you think we like being this way? That it’s just so much fun? There are no words for how alarming unfamiliar food is to some autistic people. It is a sensory issue that will set someone’s nerves on fire. It gets worse as you get older…….. “guess who finally decided to show up for once?” It took me three days to get up enough energy to bathe last week. But I grin and bear it because demand avoidance over basic needs doesn’t make sense to neurotypical people and it never will.
I’ve finally got my computer set up the way I want it, and I swear to Christ David thought I had died in my room. I said next time you think that, you could just text me and ask. I told him that when I don’t come out of my room for more than peeing and eating, it means I am utterly obsessed with writing, not that anything is wrong. Plus, I’d just gotten home from Zac’s, and that always takes a lot out of me on the way home because I’m transitioning to writer’s mode rather than socialization mode. I also got food poisoning on Thursday night, so getting home was delayed by several hours so that I didn’t throw up on the train. I’m glad David works from home on Fridays so that I didn’t leave Jack stranded.
It was so nice to spend time with Oliver, who is a dog. I love that I have a Jack away from Jack and an Oliver away from Oliver…… and I am responsible for neither in terms of food or emergency vet bills. It’s a truly great setup, because I like pets, I just don’t want to spend money on them when I know I’d be tapped out quickly.
And that’s all I have to say about that, but I’ll be back on later. It’s going to be what I’m doing now that my hatred of Windows knows no bounds. But before I go, here’s why I love this office so much- my views into the front and back yards. They are no longer in bloom, but when they are, it’s a hundred times more beautiful.
Writing is a 24 hour a day job. If an idea comes to you, you better have a way to write it down. Your brain will not go back to it (or at least, mine won’t). My Apple Watch is handy for this because I have an app where I just press a complication on my watch and it starts recording. Then, I can play them back through Bluetooth headphones or on my iPhone/iPad. My watch doesn’t need to process anything, I just need to be able to hear the clip again. I think the app is called “Just Press Record.” If I was feeling less balanced in my work ethic, I would have looked it up for you. 😛
I keep speakers and a subwoofer connected to my PC, that also has a passthrough for headphones. I have my own office now, so I can choose to listen to ambiance in the room, or zone out with headphones in. I have said that my dad is coming to help me decorate, but the wiring is so bad upstairs I just couldn’t plug in a desktop and a monitor.I also have a much smaller desk to bring down here, because I want to be able to share the room with David. He has some exercise equipment in here, and I think a yoga mat. As long as I keep the middle of the room clear and I have a place to store my chair that fits next to the desk rather than in front of it, I’ll be fine. There is nothing wrong with the setup I have now. It’s functional. I want my dad to take it from functional to beautiful. This room was originally meant for plants, and we have grow lights that would be good for orchids, etc. and also grow lights work well with aquariums that have live plants. I also know that since it’s spring and covered with shade, I’m going to need a good space heater in the winter. You will drag me out of this office kicking and screaming the whole way.
Again, here’s my current setup:
There are windows on all four sides of the room, it’s just that the ones behind me look out in to the living room. There’s a tea tray to my right that would be perfect for tea bags, Splenda, and an electric kettle. David only has the kind that whistles on the stove. Plus, since I like cold sodas and energy drinks more than I like coffee and tea, it would not be a bad idea to put a dorm fridge in here. Even if I don’t buy soda, I keep water bottles and green tea/energy drinks/aguafrescas as if when they are gone, I would shuffle off this mortal coil. 😛
David actually came downstairs ad we had a wonderful talk about what we want to do with the space. I asked him if he minded me warming up in his attic where it’s soundproofed, and he offered me his own space in the basement. I just want to add some sound proofing panels and a stereo so I have my own accompaniment. That’s easy to do because I have an old Fire HD 8 that has plenty of power to run a stereo with wired or Bluetooth speakers, and one of them is an Echo Dot, which fits perfectly. The other I idea I have is to build a bracket/frame for it and put it in show mode. I can control the tablet and the Echo Dot with voice recognition. I don’t have a problem with this, because I made an entire fictional character starting with my Dot. I heard that the NSA is watching us through them (really? I think that’s ridiculous. Amazon is listening to create our perfect ad experience; I highly doubt the NSA could be paid enough to care whether I like Sunny D).
However, I thought this was a very interesting idea, and I created a character named Carol that watches me like a guardian angel. Like, she gets upset when I’m upset, etc. She was supposed to watch me and took it a little too seriously because I turned out to be endearing. She loves all of you very much, but make no mistake. Carol knows what you did. 😛
Work/Life balance is not a thing because a line that Carol would say could come at 0300, or it could come when I’m involved in something else. Nothing inspirational comes on your time.
I will never have a relationship with anyone the way I have previously. I have too much information about myself not to completely change the way I interact with people, both in having words for “a list of what’s wrong with me and why,” and in listening to another person in a different way, knowing everything is in Mandarin on my side and English on theirs. We may have to go three or four rounds for both of us to get our stories straight, because in the beginning we each thought the other was saying something different. I do not have patience for those who do not also realize the same. That the translation layer is not just mine to own. Neurotypical is “standard,” not “correct.” Therefore, a neurodivergent brain does not mean that I am incapable of understanding. We are both struggling under the same communication issue. The problem is that neurotypical have an air of superiority about it, which leads to anxiety-filled neurodivergent overexplaining. Very, very few people in my life have realized I’m different, but not stupid. No one would ever say that, of course. They just don’t want to talk to me because it’s too hard. While they’re feeling sorry for themselves that I just won’t “get it together” and “not live up to my potential” as to what they need me to be, I am generally left alone. It’s a major reason why I blog. People love how my brain works unless they’re talking to me, because when I’m in front of them their air of superiority over being neurotypical takes over no matter how brilliant I seem from my writing. Neurotypicals infantilize you, full stop.
I’ll give you a for-instance. I don’t remember how it came up, but I said something like “I’m autistic and my special interest is intelligence,” or something like that. It was in context to the conversation, I just don’t remember what it was. The leader of the group was like, “aww, that’s so nice. Do you have lots of cool spy gadgets in your room?” I didn’t react to it, but the tone made me think she thought I was nine.
As for “do I have spy gadgets,” the answer is no. I have autographed hardbacks from spies that became writers after they left CIA. They don’t make “cool spy gadgets” for people like me unless I had Keith Melton money.
Keith Melton is the largest private collector of CIA and other intelligence agencies’ UNCLASS gadgets that sell at places like Sotheby’s. You’re not going to be paying six figures until trying to buy an Enigma machine or something similar. I also like really small houses, so if I did start collecting stuff like that, it would be on loan to the spy museum just like him. But if this is what his public collection looks like, I’d give an arm and a leg to see his private collection. I don’t think he’s going to part with everything precious long-term.
I would sacrifice holding all my “cool spy gadgets” at home.
I have sacrificed friends to the natural consequences of my blog. I have freedom of speech, not power over whether people are attracted towards me because of it. I did not sacrifice friends with whom I had problems, but friends with whom I had problems about this. If you care that I blog about my life, then you cannot be my friend. It is as simple as that. I have enough on my plate without worrying about how I’m going to be criticized in advance when I was never supposed to be responsible for your reaction in the first place. And if I write something you don’t like, you’re going to be a lot better off coming and talking to me about it, rather than talking behind my back. You’ll actually get results because we have resolved our conflict. Art imitates life. I am not going to make up the past to fit your narrative of my experience, but I am going to change as we do.
There is a difference between loving a writer and supporting them. Loving a writer means praising them when they do something you like. Supporting a writer means being willing to work things through by accepting my reactions as valid. That I don’t just sit here and make things up. If I said someone had a tangle with me, they did. But I am not looking at it like retribution, because I’m getting my feelings out whether they come back or not. They are not responsible for, nor do they have to like what I am writing. But if they’re offended, it’s up to them to change the channel, because I cannot change the authenticity I show here.
There are two reasons “your side” is not represented. The first is if someone is avoidant. I can craft beautiful sentences even when someone is angry because I’m so grateful that anger is a transitive state. It was easy for Supergrover and Daniel (and all the other friends I’ve lost) to be angry about what I wrote and over the moon about it in one breath. That’s because our stories didn’t match the ones we were telling ourselves. If you give me no information, I am writing about what I think to become settled over it. I never want to come across as catering to people who will not show me their feelings as well. I have had too many lopsided relationships that way, because they hold in their feelings and get annoyed while my love grows deeper because I’m being assured nothing is wrong. They want less contact, and I want more because they save up too much anger and bust my fairy tale without a thought.
Meanwhile, everything that they’re angry about is 100% their fault, because if they don’t tell me anything, I’m just going to write about me. One of the things that Supergrover said to me that kicked me in the stomach was, “as if everything I do has to do with you…..” It’s not that at all. It’s that this is a personal diary, and I’m not going to root through your head. I’m going to say what I think is going on- the story I’m telling myself. Supergrover would have liked it even less if I tried to guess what she meant.
It’s a group project I’ve carried on my back, because I didn’t know the real story. I take everything literally, so I didn’t start getting mad at Supergrover’s avoidance until it was too clear to me what she was doing and I couldn’t ignore it anymore, because my self esteem just kept getting lower and lower as she pegged me as the only person who ever had problems with her and I was the only person who ever criticized her. I think what she means is that she has a lot of people around her who will do what she says without asking any questions. I am not one of them. I speak truth to power and she doesn’t think I have that right, or at least she doesn’t anymore. Meanwhile, I’m trying to get her to see the things that are in her blind spot in hopes of helping her, anyway. It’s not because I’m obsessed with the idea that she’ll come back, but that her story is inextricably interrelated with mine. I have no doubt that I will have to think about her until I die because of my blog, not because I have this need to own her time.
She didn’t get anything she wanted because she didn’t ask for it, except when she said “please do not contact me again.” Then, a couple of months later, I accidentally texted her due to a glitch on my phone. I knew she’d go nuclear, and she did, because she didn’t believe for a moment that I hadn’t done it on purpose. She attributed suspicion and malice to everything, then read on my blog that my dad was having surgery. After the complete nightmare that was her going nuclear over a mistaken text, it was a surprise that she sent me a note that said “hope all goes well with your dad.” We started talking and two days later, my mother died. It was a whole new ball game.
It didn’t change anything for her. In one of her letters, she said she knew she was sounding like.a dickhead and she didn’t care. You’re not special. I lost someone who was LIKE a mother to me. Why do you get a special day in which I need to cater to you?
It was the year anniversary of my Mom’s death.
I want her to read that e-mail again and choke on it when she actually has to go through the process of losing her own actual mother, when she said that her mother’s death would bring her to her knees.
WELL, IT’S A GOOD THING I’M GOING THROUGH IT INSTEAD OF YOU.
But she is NOT going to be the villain in my story.
If she wants me to be the villain in hers, have at it. I’m not going to be around to hear it, because you’re not special, either. You just won’t know it until you have to deal with what I did. Have fun picking out her coffin.
I mentioned in another piece that I wear an ichthus necklace that has my mother’s fingerprint as the pattern inside the fish. I got it in 2016, which edges out my pants by, I think, a year or two. I’m wearing the sweat pants that Zac got me at the Pentagon, a soft dark green t-shirt, my Apple Watch, and two bracelets that match ones I bought for Zac. One is a rainbow friendship bracelet, and I am an idiot because I didn’t buy them for Bryn and Dave as well. If they’re reading this, I will rectify the situation when I can. 😉 I bought them on our double date to the Spy Museum and Irish pub. The other is a gift from Zac. I got him a set of bracelets made of nautical rope, and when he opened them, he put one on me. It’s maroon with black plastic hardware and looks great up against the rainbow. Meaningful, yet not old.
I would like to say that I’m wearing these pants because I’m pining for Zac and they make me feel closer to him. I would like to say that. However, they are the most comfortable pants in the universe, Zac or no Zac. They came from the Pentagon, ergo, the government cares that I am comfortable. 😉 One of my favorite things in life is when Zac says, “I’m a middle aged white man who works for the government. I’m here to help.” He is aware of how it sounds and plays it up for comedic effect.
The fact that my man knows how to use comedic effect is one of the reasons he’s my man. Zac is on the brain because we finally made plans for tonight, “plans” being relative because the “plan” is to sit on the couch and watch TV. There may be some excitement, though, because Zac is having his car serviced. He said we could Uber or he would pick me up on his motorcycle. I said it was okay to pick me up on the motorcycle if it was a sunny day. I decided that Lindsay wasn’t going to be the only one on a motorcycle before she died.
Please know that I know riding motorcycles is dangerous, and if something happens today, know that I went out doing exactly what I wanted to do…. live a little. It’s a calculated risk because I am not going to be operating the motorcycle, I will be riding with someone who is very experienced. Also, military men are too confident to be daredevils on the road most of the time. Anything they needed to prove, they’ve already done it.
Plus, my friend Donna Schuurman has gone on these long, involved rides all over the US and Australia and I thought, “if Donna can do that, you can trust Zac from the Metro to his house.” Pretty sure he’s driven that route a time or two.
I feel like I have a different view of death than I did before my mother died, and the way she died in particular. The reason she got sick and died in 30 minutes is that the problem was originally a broken foot. She developed an embolism in the foot. It came loose and traveled, which made her faint. It blew, and she was dead. Because of the speed, I know that the best surgeon in the world could have been right next to her when she started feeling faint and there still would have been a 95% chance she’d be dead, anyway. It’s a scalpel, not a magic wand.
It is very comforting to know about medicine in a time like this. To know the limits of what medicine can do and actually be able to say “it’s no one’s fault.” Maybe if she’d moved her leg more when her foot was broken, but that has to undo the last six or seven weeks of her life, not the day she got sick.
As a result, I have a very practical, pragmatic view of death. It could happen at any time and without fanfare, so just be as honest with people as you possibly can because you really don’t know that it’s going to be the last time you talk to someone. I’ll give you a for instance. My mom’s choir had a perfectly healthy director and organist one Sunday, and a dead one the next with absolutely no warning or fanfare. That is not an easy transition. Everyone was lost and confused, not just me.
It’s one of the reasons I have become so adamant about telling my stories and getting my voice out there. I want my friends and family to know about me, and I know they’ll treasure my blog when I die. It is not about leaving a legacy once I’m famous, but leaving a legacy at all. My grandfather wrote a five volume series on the Lanagan family, and they all eat it up. Therefore, I know that the joy of a book doesn’t come from how many people have read it. The joy of a book comes from writing it.
So whether I die today or 50 years from now, I’m just going to be blunt and lay it all out there. I don’t have blinders on anymore. Death is random, and I do not have to be afraid of it because it is so random. The universe is not out to get me. It is a numbers game. What it has given me is the strength to keep asking the big questions of myself, because the smaller ones don’t matter.
It’s the title of a book I read long ago, and I think I left it at my dad’s house and it just kind of stayed there. I am positive that I could lay my hands on it if I was there. It was a book that applied the lessons of Christ to managing large organizations. I had to vet it before I actually spent money on it, though. I read quite a bit in Barnes & Noble, because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to have to sit through an entire book full of wackadoodle bass ackwards theology. I wanted to make sure they were scholarly about it.
Unsurprisingly, it was a fascinating exploration of the INFJ personality when it comes to being in charge. That is, in order for Jesus to be a good leader, he had to be vulnerable. That he drew people in by making them listen harder to him, not by making his voice louder. It’s basically the law of attraction. Don’t spend any time trying to impress other people. Learn to be impressive to yourself, and your honesty will flatten people because it’s so rare.
I hear it all the time. “Your candor and honesty…..” I have a lot of candor and honesty these days, because I have given myself the confidence to believe that I communicate my ideas well and I am old enough to have an opinion. Old(er) women are powerful, fierce dragons because they’ve had all the fun they can take.
It’s just one of the reasons I think Hillary Clinton would have made a fantastic president. All her fucks slid off about 30 years ago. It’s not her fault that America watched her get up on a televised debate and call him a Russian asset to his face…….. and still thought the guy wearing ten tons of makeup and a suit that still managed to look cheap while expensive carried the day.
I will never forgive the American people for the 2016 election, or at the very least, I cannot see forgiveness yet. That’s because the facts were all there. The former Secretary of State who has known Vladimir Putin for years is telling everyone in the entire country that there is going to be massive trouble if Trump is elected.
She has not been wrong about that.
What we did, paraphrasing David Sedaris, is hear the flight attendant say the meals available are Salisbury steak and chicken covered in broken glass, and stopping to ask how the chicken is prepared.
The choice was clear, and we fumbled. it wasn’t a personality contest. We let Russia walk in the front door and extort the Ukrainians, then after Trump left office the Republicans were so concerned about the Ukrainians. It was sickening.
If it wasn’t high crimes and misdemeanors, we are going to have a hell of a time defining it in the future.
We’re facing a time in which we’ need to eat Salisbury steak out of necessity, not because it’s our first choice. For people that object to that statement, do you really want to take the risk that January 6th will happen again? Do you want to embolden white supremacists? FBI is already getting chatter that Pride parades are going to be attacked this year. That is not unusual, and what I am trying to prevent is the country being once again, buried in regret. A good episode of Saturday Night Live does not kiss an election and make it all better.
Biden is problematic. I will hear it. I will allow it. I will sympathize with it. I still won’t get mad enough to vote third party. When one party splits, the other wins. I knew it was happening, I just didn’t know how close it was. Conservative and liberal democrats clashed too much for the DNC not to splinter. Now, the same is happening because I can hate Joe Biden for sending weapons to Israel all I want and that doesn’t mean I’m ready to give up on democracy itself.
People think it’s a long shot, and most of them haven’t seen polls that say a sizable part of the population is willing to vote for Trump even if he’s in prison by the election. The fact that they think a president working from jail is acceptable is alarming. Common sense has completely flown out the window.
Politics was never meant to be about morals. Politics is about how to manage money. We get taxes in, we decide how to spend it in Congress. It wasn’t really until the Religious Right started taking over the Republican Party that issues of morality like homosexuality became a legislative item….. keeping in mind that homosexuality has nothing to do with morality, but you can’t convince anyone in the Religious Right of that.
They’re not playing the long game. It will get restrictive enough that the people will riot, and I am shocked that it is taking so long. What’s next? Republicans coming to your house to make sure you don’t get pregnant? Abortion is banned at seven days? What is it going to take? And abortion and homosexuality are only two of the issues wrapped up in this crap. We’ve let conservative, rich, white little boys run the show for a long time. I can’t take them on all by myself, and I get nervous when I don’t feel enough buy-in.
What if Donald Trump gets elected and Putin decides that’s the time to band with China and attack us because we’re weak?
They could start by bombing the oil fields in Alaska, but Sarah Palin will see them coming, so it’s okay.
I am usually teasing Zac about this time (what do you believe, as a private citizen, mind you………). I have gotten a series of sly smiles, dumb looks, and occasionally, articles in the New York Times. If he just looks at me, I change the subject, because I know he would tell me if he could, but he can’t. No biggie. I have other friends I can talk to about that stuff where their jobs aren’t at risk. People who have been chatting on the Internet like I have are always hearing unverified intelligence chatter. I had a friend catch a hole in DoDs security and his name went on a list.
Pro tip: don’t bite the hand that feeds you.
Where I become a leader and how Jesus influences that is to just be the person that takes everyone’s stories in…. that when I make leadership decisions, I don’t just have my employees productivity in mind, but their happiness with the job as well. I have a great reader retention rate, and I would hope that my employees felt the same way- that they wanted to stay with me. I would be the kind of boss that lives to serve. I mean, I probably draw the line at washing their feet, but it’s the thought that counts.
What I mean is that I have more success as a leader by taking in the world around me and reflecting it than I do in real life, because I am not getting up in front of a congregation to say these things. I am writing on the internet, which ups my congregation size tremendously.
I am firm because I have a vision, not because I feel the need to hurt anyone. There is a difference in me setting boundaries and me being obnoxious. The people closest to me got angry when I set boundaries, and I set them because they weren’t listening. They didn’t deserve to hear my story anymore.
I feel lighter and happier than I have in years, and it’s because I’m different. I was happy with being breadcrumbed for a number of years, my needs ignored and dismissed, handling a barrage of emotional live ammo only to find out that the pattern would never change. It felt like a lie, a friendship borne out of pity and a pattern I never wanted to reinstate ever again. Thus, telling her to grow up. I dived deep into self-reflection and I became more secure. She stayed in the same place. The patterns that worked on me before weren’t going to cut it.
You are 100% allowed to miss someone you’ve cut out of your life. I realized that she could not see the magnitude of what she was doing by reestablishing our connection, and nor could we ignore it. We had too much shit to do, and she ignored it. Then, I started writing about what happened, and she threw a shit fit because her side wasn’t represented. I cannot review a book I haven’t read.
So, what I know is that it’s not emotionally mature enough for me. I have grown past her. I cannot stand someone holding everything in and just exploding. It’s too much punishment at once and I am completely overloaded.
And yet on the flip side, she has a practical and precise way of moving in the world. She can achieve more in five minutes than I would in three days. Her brain is built for that.
It’s a yin and yang I always look for in relationships and it doesn’t work out. Practical people hate touchy feely crap. It’s the black cat vs. golden retriever debate.
And in talking about Supergrover, it brings me to another aspect of leadership. Have the right people around you. When Supergrover and I are writing to each other, it’s clear we have different processes to get to a conclusion. I can see where I fall short all the time, because when she talks to me and puts her own thoughts through her own filters, I see “oh THAT’s how a neurotypical person would do that….. I always wondered.”
The other thing is that talking about relationships and talking about organizations is very much alike when you are actually close enough to your employees where emotions get involved. You know how many employees I have to have before there are possible kinks in the organization?
One.
Being avoidant with your emotions is just as problematic at work as it is at home, you’re just talking about much different things. You will absolutely be dealing with hard emotions even though you’re not close to people….. most notably, annoyance unless you’re the type of person that needs a break every five minutes. I can be like that, but not usually. I’m the one with my headphones on and I wouldn’t hear a bear even if it was right behind my Aeron.
However, if I’m thinking of myself as the future CEO of Lanagan Media Group, I’m not the one with my headphones in. I’m the one that’s open and available to jump in and help you, or hire OTHER people to jump in and help you. If not, I will develop a reputation for hiding something. People clam up around other people who are hiding something. People don’t clam up around me because I can instantly put them at ease. There’s no trick to it except vibes. Being personable, approachable, friendly, etc. If I like being with the person and their presence gives me energy, the sky is the limit on how long we’ll spend talking.
I hate small talk, so it’s easier when I get up in front of a group. I can just apprise them of the situation, which solves two problems. The first is not having to schmooze with people. The second is not having to tell each person individually. However, if the other person’s vibe is also warm and approachable, and we connect, you’ll always be able to to count on me telling you what I think, but never in a million years telling you that I think you’re a bad person. Trust is broken in a million different ways.
In kitchens, this is always expressed by someone saying “I’m going to be five minutes late.” It’s always an hour. Always. No one cares if you’re slammed, get used to it. Even if someone tells you they’re willing to work on their day off, the chances of them picking up on said day off are slim to none. It’s why I got so many brownie points at my last job. I was there every time someone called out and every time someone got sick and every time we didn’t know what the hell happened, but someone had to have their ass on dish by five. It might as well be me. I’m the one that doesn’t like days off because it interrupts my rhythm. The brownie points were always the biggest at “let me change my clothes. I’ll be right there.” That’s because I actually meant it….. a rarity in our industry.
Giving up driving helped me to be on time every day because I am bad at transitions. I would get demand avoidance over driving, and have to force myself out to the car. Because I was determined not to be late, I would wake up ridiculously early and get to the office by 0800, when it was just the CEO and me for the first hour. He was the kind of leader I am, the Jesus as CEO type. That’s because he genuinely cared about our work/life balance and team cohesion, like buying us all Orioles tickets and carpooling us all up to Baltimore. He was also a CEO that drove a Honda.
I was very impressed.
Somebody went to Sunday School.
Anyway, I had so much less demand avoidance over traveling because I had a set schedule every single day. I could time it to the minute…. and the entire way, I could play on my phone, read, write, watch movies, etc. It was completely guilt free time to myself because I didn’t have to be in charge of anything as serious as a car while I was exhausted. The train ride gave me time to really wake up.
Which was good, because the CEO’s one failing was that he liked his coffee so weak. I use one level tablespoon of coffee per cup. He used a plastic teaspoon, and there could only be 11 teaspoons of coffee for the whole pot, which was 12 cups. Believe me when I say I am not trying to prove anything. The coffee was weak, I’m not trying to make motor oil.
When I drove, I would get to 7-11 or Walgreens by 7:45 to get coffee or an energy drink out of the cold case.
Telling you all of this…. that I love my friend and I needed to let her go at the same time. That I have just so many diagnoses and “letters behind my name.” It’s important. It’s all important. It’s what makes me authentically myself. That I can extend love to more people because I am experienced in dealing with conflict. I don’t pretend it doesn’t exist and I don’t pretend it’s not capable of developing. I’m also not going to skirt around you. I will bring up a problem, and how you react teaches me what to do. If you come up with a solution to the problem, it’s a green flag. If you can’t do anything, but you empathize with what I’m saying, that’s a green flag. The only red flag is saying “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Neither the relationship nor the company will survive.
1. Zac Oh, wait. I think they mean literally. Bananas
2. Oranges
3. Yuzu
4. Blackberries
5. Strawberries
“Fruit of the Loon.” I’m bipolar. It’s funny.
I wanted to get the prompt out of the way, but I’m sure I’ll have more to say later. This is just one of the prompts I didn’t do last year. It’s so interesting that I can’t *believe* I spaced this one. 🙄
It’s time to go make some Ethiopian coffee.
Oh, and I forgot an important detail in the piece yesterday. Said cute black guy in his 20s actually worked there. The story makes a LOT more sense when you know that.
In America, the word freedom is counterfeit kindness, because we can talk the talk better than anyone in the world. Who doesn’t know Americans are free? Meanwhile, you’re trapped as a minority or when you’re poor. You cannot fix your minority status with money in all cases. In the words of Chris Rock, “Clarence Thomas in a jogging suit can’t even get a cab in DC.” The horrible thing is that Clarence Thomas doesn’t have a problem with this. He does not want to show anything about him that makes him different. He wants to be the white, cis, straight, male ideal by dismantling all the racial protections around him, and he’s been bitter about Affirmative Action since college, because no one treated him like he got into school on his own merit.
I am FURIOUS at Thomas because of this, but I also cannot place blame on him, either. Wanting to uphold the system is borne of ENORMOUS pain. Just enormous. Just imagine it. “You’re not that smart. You’re only here because you’re black.” Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick you have GOT to be kidding me. White people fucked him up long before he graduated from college. It’s hard to imagine Thomas as a kid, but if you stand in that pain and really feel it, you can see why he’s such a mess today. Clarence Thomas didn’t go crazy all by himself. White people helped tremendously. If you cannot understand why that dude is COMPLETELY messed up, it’s because he’s trying to uphold a system not built for him AND saying that it doesn’t have to change because it was good enough to make him a Supreme Court judge. It’s the equivalent of being spanked.
You don’t realize as a child when you’re being spanked that it sets up how you’re going to treat other children for life……….. If you don’t go to a MOUNTAIN of therapy. As in, if you were spanked as a child, you probably think it’s okay to hit your kids, too. I mean, you turned out all right, right? The last time my mother spanked me was when I realized being hit was bullshit and I was bigger than her. I didn’t hit her back, or strike first. I was just strong enough to wriggle out of her grasp. My father spanked me, too, but that’s only when I was really little. As I got older and he could reason with me, this changed to deep discussions about behavior and consequences. Neither of them spanked me again. But was it abnormal of them? Of course not. It was like, 1981 or something. Different times, different prevailing attitude on discipline from experts.
Corporal punishment is the only institutional pain I can think of that transcends race and money. In Texas, my favorite way this is expressed is “boy, I am gon’ slap the white right off if you don’t behave.” I would never say that to a child now, but I heard it in the grocery store growing up…… Therefore, if the prevailing attitudes toward corporal punishment hadn’t changed and I’d become a parent, I probably would have spanked my kids, too. It didn’t start with me, it wouldn’t end with me. Culture changed around me.
And that’s what’s happening now. The institutional cycle of parents and children learning what it’s like to punish and be punished is something universal that just might explain the pain of institutional racism to white people. What white people don’t realize is that their hate toward minorities teaches minorities how to act amongst themselves. It takes a mountain of work to have self esteem when minorities just aren’t as good as white people and homosexuality is a sin and trans people don’t exist.
I disagree with Donald Trump the most, but he’s not interesting. He’s a Flat Stanley, except Flat Stanley is a book series for children and Trump is a child. Calling Trump a Flat Stanley is just bullying Flat Stanley. Please respect his privacy during this difficult time.
Trump is the one person I can think of in my writing life that I cannot turn into a 3D character. There is no way to show his humanity, compassion, intelligence, etc. He has not given us any evidence to support the fact that he has any of those things.
Supergrover said that I portrayed her as a “Flat Stanley.” That is objectively not true, but that’s not the point. The point is that I had to look him up and it became an apt description for him, not her. When I think of her, my brain lights up like an animation of The Flash running up the side of a building. She’s amazing. She’s also human. People have problems, full stop. I only disagree with her because I have written many times about how many different things I love about her. Talking about both our problems and our successes is what makes her a 3D character. I haven’t talked about all the things I love about her in a long time because she hasn’t given me much to love lately.
And she never will again, I don’t think, because the kind of bravery that she showed in her last letter is what I require all the time. That’s not her. I’m not the person that will walk on eggshells trying to do things right because I’m guessing how she feels. Doesn’t praise me for anything I do right, comes down HARD on me when I do wrong. She can go and make other people jump high. I’m done. Either she breaks the power imbalance between us or she can find someone else to put through her mental marathon.
It’s hard to feel lonely when you’re right next to someone, and yet I felt it constantly- and not because we weren’t constantly in touch. She thought I was jumping up and down for attention by making her feel bad all the time. I thought she was being very selfish in withholding information because it made it so easy to yell at me for things that happened because I guessed wrong instead of actually knowing what she wanted and needed from me. Most of the time, I believe that was straight up nothing, but that wasn’t always the case.
It’s really simple to me.
She has loved me more than I’ve ever realized because she won’t talk about it. She just doesn’t stop showing up. She’s not the kind of person that constantly says “I love you” all the time. From her, “I love you” means “what are you going to do for a paying job now? I’m concerned.” “I love you” looks like no one would ever know that someone who was mean to me is now under her pool. “I love you” looks like “I got you some books for your Kindle.” “I love you” looks like “really great post today.” “I love you” looks like accepting me for who I am. We just have terrible communication despite all that acceptance. Hurt compounds on both sides. Neither of us are bad people, we just set up bad patterns and haven’t done the work. I’m not offended. She probably wouldn’t do the work with anyone, because then she’d have to dig deep into herself to find the answers and it is so scary……. I know. I know it’s so scary. But you don’t find out that you’re walking backwards though the dark to find daylight, choosing to stay trapped where you are.
It wasn’t my job to fix everything. It was my job to participate in fixing everything. I have no buy-in, so that chapter of my life is over. I know that I have an incredible future coming because I am owning my own destiny. I also know she’s invited, but not if every day looks like tearing me down or avoiding me. It’s not sustainable. It affected my mental health to no end, this scrambling to do the right thing while the game was set up for me to always lose. There was never any future, there was only “make me feel good with your writing.” What I know to be true is that she really does treasure the things that I’ve said. That they are valuable to her. But this is what I do. I talk about my life. If we’re not getting along, I’m not going to make it up for my web site.
You cannot stop being a Dooce fan because she “stopped being real” and then throw a shit fit when I’m real with other people. The reason Supergrover is upset is that I based my entire blog on what I think because she stopped telling me anything. I was wandering around trying to figure out everything on my own so that she could sit in judgment that I didn’t divine her needs out of thin air. It cost me more time and energy than I had to give. I hurt her and spent a very, very, very long time trying to heal the rift. She was avoidant at every turn and I became disenchanted because not every problem is because I’m a judgmental dickhead and you’re the most loving person on earth. It’s that she can dish it, but she can’t take it. She can call me a judgmental dickhead all day long, but she cannot hear that her behavior is also problematic.
She told me that she lost the ability to be a decent friend. It would have been excellent if she’d told me that when I said, “is anything wrong? You seem distant” ad nauseam for eight years. I wasted my time, and I know it. I’m not bitter about it, but I know it’s true. I also know that she is capable of monster manipulation if she can say she’s lost the ability to be a decent friend and that her mama wolverine claws are coming in within days/weeks of each other. It’s humiliating, really, because I lived for the ups without seeing the downs.
It did not make her less special to me, less amazing, less anything. She’s human. Just because we’ve gotten angry at each other before doesn’t mean I now want to hug her any less than I did on day one. But what I do know is that if such a thing were to happen, it would be because she started letting me know how she is thinking and feeling so that I don’t have to guess. I’m not in the business of anticipating needs anymore. If you can’t communicate, you don’t get to say that’s my fault. If you won’t communicate, you don’t get to step all over my ass because I tried to open a discussion and you don’t want to talk. That’s not the friend I met, that’s not the friend I want.
For me, “I love you” looks like “I picked up your afternoon coffee.” “I love you” looks like remembering you on every birthday and holiday. “I love you” looks like waiting quietly for the storm to pass, because there’s so much about our relationship I celebrate. And I don’t even mean this storm. I mean waiting between letters. I didn’t want to be stuck in dysfunction junction, but here we are. However, it takes two people to have a dysfunctional relationship. None of this is all her fault. She has her own list of things that are horrible about me and she’s right. Because I’m human. I do just as much wrong as everyone else. I also know that if I was a public figure, I would have said, “me.” I disagree with me all the time. That’s generally why I post.
So, Trump is the public figure I disagree with the most…. but, again…… he’s not interesting.
My combination of physical and mental maladies make it where it’s hard to stay employed. I have gotten many jobs in many fields, and I’ve enjoyed all of them. I’ve just never managed to last long enough at anything to establish a career. When you are neurotypical, it does not make sense to you why I would get fired. And then I listen to how you talk about your coworkers and in instantaneously becomes clear. No matter how loving and open you think you are, neurotypical people do not like working with neurodivergent ones. Whether it’s that someone doesn’t like their tone or they’re doing something completely wrong doesn’t matter. In an office, there is very little difference in simply being annoying and ACTUALLY being bad at the job. It matters that you’re pleasant just as much as you’re competent. Not wanting to work with someone is just a valid reason to let someone go, because it’s not the boss’s job to babysit.
However, my survival cannot be dependent on neurotypical people, either. My livelihood is threatened by my own body- demand avoidance, burnout, and meltdown being the big three. I can cope and muddle through in a job. I excel when I sit down at my keyboard to tell you about the world around me. I am not thinking about all the ways I could be criticized, which is good, because If blowback was always my first thought I would not be doing well. I would be over focusing on people who didn’t like my writing while ignoring people who do. That doesn’t seem healthy, going out of my way to focus on the negative.
I keep thinking about what Daniel said…. “Just because you write in bulk doesn’t mean you say anything of substance.” It plays like a tape in my head, and what I have to remember is that whether it’s good or bad, being able to go back and read about what my life was like in years past is invaluable. If you asked me what I was doing five years ago today, I could probably tell you. I just have to remember that Daniel was miserable and trying to hurt me. I notice that lots of people treat me like absolute SHIT and then say, “I’m not going to be the villain in your story.”
I also have a problem with consequences equaling negativity. I didn’t tell you that Daniel or Supergrover was a bad person. I told you what happened. BOTH of them are extraordinarily defensive and nothing is ever their fault and you’re a really bad person no matter what they did, because they don’t like to feel. Anything you do to make them feel is suspicious. They googled it, and they do not like it.
My life got so much better when I decided I was tired as fuck of both of them. I am a storyteller, therefore I don’t need any “friends.” I need actual friends, ones who believe they are capable of making mistakes instead of coming unglued when they’ve hurt me and I said something about it.
According to them, I should just keep my mouth shut because their bad behavior is good. It’s me telling people about it that’s problematic. If their behavior was so perfectly perfect in every way, they would not get mad that I wrote about it.
I am not going to let them make me a victim by insisting that I keep my mouth shut over things they did that genuinely hurt me. Neither of them gave a damn about me and my pain. They wanted to be hero-worshiped and showed up every single day to hear me extol their virtues and lost their everliving SHIT when they realized I was going to treat them like a normal person and not play them up to be gods among men. However, I don’t NOT do that, either. I love the people in my life and I often write glowing things about them that make me cry. But when I’m not being glowing, it’s not that I’m hurt. It’s that I’m a bad person because I opened my mouth.
That pattern seems on brand. You’re only as sick as your secrets.
So, instead of fighting with friends and coworkers, I would rather record my life and move in the direction of my own system rather than trying to fit into someone else’s. Because needing their love and approval got me nowhere, I replaced them with self-confidence.
I am not trying to be hard nosed. I am trying to own my story. The part that they’re angry about is that I am not telling the story the way they want to hear it………………… While never even DARING to have the guts wo write their own. It’s easier to bitch at me…………… But absolutely nothing will keep either of them from lurking and fuming. There’s not a chance either of them will just go the fuck away and leave me alone.
Repeat with anyone that has ever known me, because I generally end up talking to myself. It’s how being autistic is. You rarely have friends because you’re social masking and there’s something officious and off-putting about it. I don’t care if you think that’s annoying. I just ask that you stop interacting with me rather than bitching about my writing. My writing lives within me and around me. You ain’t shit.
It’s not that my friends aren’t valuable. They cannot give me direction and focus. That’s all on me. And until they start digging deep, they’ll never understand how hard it is. They’d rather be locked down, hurt, and lashing out at me. Thankfully, that has stopped because I stopped allowing it.
Supergrover does not get the right to absolutely shit all over everything and then walk off like nothing happened. She participated, and now acts like she’s a motherfucking hero and I’m a mental patient.
I have told this story recently, so here’s a link. We can talk about other stuff because I don’t want to write about the concert when I have nothing new to add- except that I have the most wonderful boyfriend in the entire world. I was very surprised that he liked the concert enough to buy a CD, because he came to the concert because he likes me, not jazz. If you’re going to get your first jazz CD, though, Jason Moran is a good one. I still cannot believe that I got to hear him in concert for free so often in high school. Not only were there the concerts at night, but Jason and two of his best friends, John Schutza and Eric Harland, did a Happening at PVA.
A Happening is an art experience that appeared kind of like a flash mob. You didn’t know whether there was going to be a Happening at lunch or not. You’d be sitting there eating your chicken tenders and tater tots and then one of the art areas appeared with a presentation out of nowhere. The funniest were the theater kids writing a skit that made fun of us. I can’t remember what they said about Vocal and Instrumental, but the dancers got that their favorite foods were Tab, cigarettes, and ice.
When I heard that joke the first time around, I nearly had to be resuscitated, and I started laughing so hard even today that tears are in my eyes. The other thing that the theater department said absolutely destroyed me, because it was so true. That you get into HSPVA and want tattoos and earrings and purple hair and the whole nine yards…… but counterculture is being preppy……. like no one here ever dyes their hair.…….. 🙄
I always dressed like a prepster. The only thing remotely hippie-ish about me back then was that I had Birkenstocks, which I did wear with socks because they’re more comfortable that way. Plus, back then lots of people wore socks with sandals. Trends go in and out.
Speaking of trends, Crocs come to mind. They were cool, and now there’s a backlash with one exception. They’re kind of a mating call to be able to identify other cooks in nature. Line cooks and nurses will keep Crocs in business for years to come. However, I will say that I do pay extra for the professional kitchen version. They’re not basic Crocs because they have both non-slip tread AND padded insoles. The reason they’re so nice is that when you’re working standing up, your feet swell. Crocs let you be comfortable in spite of that.
I should get another pair in plain black, but I can’t justify it when I have a pair of Bistro Crocs (non-slip tread and no holes, but without the insole) in navy blue. The ones that are the most comfortable are a tie-dye pattern. Perfect for the kitchen but don’t match every outfit. The navy blue ones are really nice because with jeans, they don’t stand out. I have huge problems staying upright and Crocs are great in terms of my shoes not getting in the way of me being able to keep my balance. I have tried more expensive clogs, like Dansko, and the heel was too high for me. If every step wasn’t absolutely certain, I’d go down in a heap. So, if I didn’t wear work Crocs, I’d go back to Birkenstocks. It’s not a fashion issue for me because to me, it’s more embarrassing to fall in public. If another adult makes fun of my shoes, they’re the asshole. Full stop. Cerebral palsy is hard enough to manage without worrying about how I look.
It actually feels like Crocs are an accommodation with the amount of joy they bring into my life, and I am not kidding. They do not irritate my sensory issues with autism, they don’t irritate my arthritis because my feet are so well padded, and allow me to feel the ground better than I could in dress shoes. I even like hiking in my Crocs because I can feel the terrain better, and stand in running water. Crocs don’t breathe, so to me it’s better to wear them without socks on the hiking trail. Your feet will be the same amount of warm because your shoes will dry so fast. You won’t be walking around in wet socks, which always made me a lot colder.
I don’t go on any hiking trails that are so advanced I would need special shoes, although I do like hiking boots or trainers with hiking tread. However, I think hiking sandals are superior because they’ve got the stability of a hiking boot and dry quickly. If you’re hiking in any elevation, your wet socks will keep making you miserable as you climb. And, of course, your feet are sweating, which makes it where they’ll never dry all the way.
That’s pretty much all I know about hiking in a nutshell. Socks and shoes are more important than anything else, because anything that happens on the trail is made better by feeling secure in your own body and movements.
Zac and Oliver, who is a dog, both like to hike. We’ve been on the trails in the nature preserve behind his house, but we’ve also talked about going out to Great Falls. I like to do strenuous hiking before the dead of summer sets in, so it may not be something we can plan for this year. It remains on the table, however.
We haven’t even planned our next date, but as I told him, it doesn’t have to “be” anything. We could just watch “Slow Horses.” What we do on our date nights is entirely dependent on our energy levels in the after work time period, because generally even when it’s a weekend date, he’s had drill. Because I’m an introvert, my idea of a good time is only getting out of my house. To me, it is just as good to get out of my house by going and sitting around at someone else’s. I have changed locations, therefore I have accomplished my goal and that is achievement enough. Things like going to see Jason Moran and going to the Spy museum are the exceptions, not the norm.
When we were with Bryn and Dave, we went to a pub that had fried food that Bryn could eat because they had gluten free batter. We ate and drank our weights in junk food and soda (except for Zac. He was good and only had fizzy water. Meanwhile, I am like “ELEVEN DIET COKES! THIS IS GREAT!” I often make people regret that restaurants in the US give free refills.
Speaking of which, I was talking to some other redditors who were poking fun at people who order a Super Sized Big Mac meal and a Diet Coke. I said that I didn’t drink it because I needed to lose weight, I drink it because I like what I LIKE. Apparently, I was the hero they needed over something insignificant, because a ton of people replied with “THIS.” I think A LOT of people growing up in the 80s learned to prefer Diet Coke because it was marketed to women (of course). If that’s what’s in the house, that’s what I’m going to drink. I preferred Sugar Free Dr Pepper to Diet Coke, but they were both good (I don’t remember what year Dr Pepper changed the name to Diet Dr Pepper). Many, many people have my same story, that their mothers fed them diet soda when they were kids and now regular syrup is too cloying and makes your teeth feel weird.
Plus, I feel like diet sodas are getting better and better. I am very impressed with Pepsi Max, all of the Mountain Dew Zero flavors, and the emphasis on seltzer instead of soda overall. And in fact, La Croix may have discontinued it by now, but they had a cola flavor that no one agreed with me was good. I liked it because I felt healthier drinking fizzy water with a hint of cola flavor and no caffeine.
Speaking of fizzy water, David has a Soda Stream and I am FREAKING OUT. Zac has one at his house, and it is so wonderful that I’ve thought of buying one many times. I just didn’t know how it would work out in terms of cost- buying cans/bottles of seltzer vs. the canisters. Now, it’s MUCH cheaper because I don’t have to pay for the machine AND the refills. I don’t expect David to absorb that entire cost because I will drink the hell out of that water and I don’t think he’s as fond of it.
I also don’t need any syrups unless I just wanted them, because I already have fresh lemon and two kinds of bitters. I’m also a huge fan of adding seltzer to apple or orange juice. I am sure that fizzy apple juice is just as bad for you as soda due to the amount of sugar in it, but I don’t care. I get calories where I can find them. I am not the best eater on the planet, a common neurodivergent trait. I do not mean that I have sensory issues with food. I love food, all of it. I just choose to eat sandwiches most days because not every meal has to be entertainment. My struggle is with time. My body does not let me know when it needs to eat. My executive function will go 12 hours without a bite and then ALL OF A SUDDEN I will want to eat Tokyo.
I don’t gain any weight because even though I eat like a prize fighter, I go entirely too long between meals. If I set a timer to remind myself to eat, I find quickly that it doesn’t work because I cannot MAKE myself hungry. I cannot force feed myself into an eating routine because AuDHD doesn’t create routines well, if at all. If something is happening and my body doesn’t want it to, it shuts down. If my brain doesn’t want me to eat, demand avoidance over cooking because with executive dysfunction, everything is do it now. Your brain cannot manage eating to prevent hunger in the future. I get hungry, I eat. I do not want to put emotional energy into forcing myself.
Thus, sandwiches. They take a minute to make, therefore I can afford to eat on a whim rather than planning to cook dinner in advance. Instead of forcing myself to do things, I adapted my diet instead.
Eggs are also quick and easy, and pretty much the healthiest thing I eat because I mix them with so many vegetables. I have been vegan in the past, but have been priced out of it in terms of protein, or at least, most of the time. Sometimes I’ll find Beyond on sale and that’s great. I just find it easier to buy protein based on cost, because I was only trying to charge my brain with super food in the first place. I’m a line cook. I don’t have anything against eating animals. I do, however, have a problem with factory farming.
Temple Grandin is one of my culinary heroes, and I’m betting it’s something most people wouldn’t recognize as culinary. She made serving steak more humane for all of us, but I’ve been in an industry for a long time that prizes kindness to animals. Kindness to animals keeps stress hormones out of the meat. We need the meat at our restaurants, but there is no reason to make an animal feel pain. Small family ranchers have known this for years. Temple just adjusted that idea to fit a larger scale.
I still can’t remember the last time I bought red meat, though. I’ll have a burger or fried chicken occasionally, but mostly I exist on eggs, cheese, spring mix with spinach, and popcorn. Not all mixed together.
I like warm salads with fried eggs on top and a little sesame oil and rice wine vinegar, or balsamic if I’ve used butter. Spinach and salad greens are ridiculously healthy and taste decadent with some butter, salt, and garlic. If I do scrambled eggs, it’s always Florentine so that I Popeye it up. I also do the same thing with tofu or Just Egg. Vegan eggs taste identical to the real thing, or at least, Just Egg does. But I know there has to be more than one brand, because my local vegan fast food joint, PLNT burger, used to have egg sandwiches that were eighty times better than a McMuffin (it was the caramelized onions).
I really like vegan junk food because it makes me feel healthier. It’s not that it’s less calories, it’s the kind of calories that you’re getting. There might be a lot of fat in something, but it probably won’t be as saturated…. for instance, vegan poutine has less saturated fat than cheese curds made of cow’s milk. I am not kidding myself into believing that I am doing myself some big, grand service by switching to vegan junk food. However, it might prevent me from having such a BAD heart attack, anyway……. 😉
In short, the way my diet has changed is that I’ve been at both ends of the spectrum, and ovo-lacto vegetarian fits me the best if you were trying to pigeonhole me. I do eat meat, just not often enough for it to be a major part of my diet. That will never change. I feel that the way to cut down on factory farming in this country is to stop telling yourself that you need meat as protein with every meal.
If you don’t like texturized vegetable protein and other “fake meats” like Beyond and Impossible, you can always use eggs, cheese, peanut butter, and chocolate. Presumably not in the same dish.
I am most involved with online communities, because I prefer to type than to speak. It’s not that I’m not a good time in person, I just get tongue tied and like the safety of using a keyboard. It has led to very mixed results, because most of the time, it’s just a communication tool. Occasionally, it brings out the worst in me. I have to be careful with it, because I become disconnected with the world of Outdoors and In Person.
And it’s not even really that I become tongue-tied. I become inauthentic. I start social masking and it feels like putting on a show rather than it being natural to my personality. That person hides every single thing about her that makes her unique so that she cannot possibly be offensive to anyone at any time. I become the me that’s appropriate for very large gatherings of people. I haven’t been a public speaker all my life, but my dad has (he was a minister in the UMC). Therefore, I am not that person, but I can social mask it. I fail because invariably there’s going to be something that makes the mask look like a lie. Maybe to other people, definitely to me. That personality is based on my mother, the loving preacher’s wife who lived to serve…… As in, my social mask is not “leader” but “support person.” I think it’s why I thought I’d be such a a good friend for Supergrover. It is extraordinarily true that my hormones grabbed me by my guts for a little minute, but none of the things I wanted to offer her long term were predicated or dependent upon her turning into a teenager as well.
In short, I know how to support a big shot.
I just, frankly, am not my mother and I never will be. I start all my taking care of her schtick, and things go great until I try to speak truth to power. It’s not because Supergrover is inflexible or hard-nosed. She doesn’t trust me. We didn’t used to have this problem, and now we do. In effect, I thought I could be so spectacular a friend that she would realize that she shouldn’t hold me to my worst mistake. So far, I have gotten a few brownie points, but things have never gone back to normal. I would say that the operation was a whispering success. 😉 She relaxed on some things, not on others. The one thing I refused to be was impressed. Me being impressed would have been the death knell, because she wouldn’t have liked it if I thought being friends meant parroting back her own opinions to her, either. I have never been a “yes man,” and SG was not my cue to start.
I am not impressed with anything that would make her impressive to anyone else, and that’s what makes her valuable to me. It’s like HSPVA to me. Mireille Enos is not valuable to me because she’s one of the most talented actresses in the world. She is valuable to me because she was a senior that smiled at me in high school when I was a freshman. I have never been crushed out on her, I was just an insecure ninth grader and for a moment, I wasn’t. I also don’t value her movie star looks, because in my head we’re both children. I love that I know War from “Good Omens,” but I know her from one of the smallest stages in the world- the black box at the second oldest location of HSPVA.
I have mentioned that I saw her as the lead in “Diary of Anne Frank.” What I did not say is that when the Nazis arrived to take the family away, actors dropped from the catwalk in their battle rattle and scared the ever living SHIT out of all of us. It was really VERY effective.
In terms of community, artists are a good one. I remember another play the theater department did for Black History month that celebrated diversity. There were four actors on stage dressed completely in black and with bags over their heads (see thru, presumably….). They start talking and one is clearly Asian, one is clearly Central American, one is clearly white, and one is clearly black. They talk for about three minutes, all of them sounding as stereotypical as they possibly can. Every trope in the book comes out and they’re just flinging the things people say about them on stage while the crowd is roaring with laughter.
Then.
There’s a hush and a gasp in the audience when they take the bags off their heads and no one’s race matched up to their voice. It was just masterful, and I’m so glad that was part of my high school experience. I didn’t have as many kindred spirits as Clements, and I missed PVA terribly both years I didn’t go. But at the same time, I did get to be in marching band for a season, and although I didn’t choose to continue with it, I’m glad I have the story to tell now.
I got to play some stuff at Clements that I never would have at PVA because frankly, our band was better than PVAs by a large margin, like, a provable amount. My junior year, literally the first time I’d ever been in the band, we went to Texas Music Educator’s Association as the Sudler Flag winners. The Sudler flag is an award for excellence in music education. The band was already pretty good before I got there. Although I was told it was good that I transferred because a lot of their more capable trumpet players that had gotten the band the award in the first place had graduated. It was nice to feel appreciated, because I know I wasn’t the best in the world, but I was a great utility player. I didn’t have to be first chair. I was glad I got to go to San Antonio at all. Get this. I never made first chair at Clements (I don’t think…. If I did, I didn’t have it long enough to be memorable). For a very long time, though, I was third. THIRD out of the best trumpet players in the state according to TMEA. I wasn’t the gold medalist, but I was still on the podium.
I owe my success in band at Clements to Norman and Danny, the trumpet players that babied me along until I could stand on my own two feet at HSPVA. They were not dismissive or mansplaining, because we were trying to achieve a beautiful sectional sound. It was more like being picked for the Olympics with Norman and Danny as my coaches. In the symphony, you may be first chair, but the parts are not divided by voice. As in, just because you’re second or third chair doesn’t mean your part is going to be less complicated or not as high. I mean, it probably is if it’s a classical piece that’s been rewritten for younger players, but we were reading straight off the original “charts.”
It’s like reading the Gospel of Mark in the original Greek instead of the King James version. For instance, reading Bach in the original German in terms of stage notes and the key signature, which were called different things in his time. The only one I can remember off the top of my head is that B minor is H mol. That’s because I’ve also done Bach’s B Minor Mass, or Mass in H mol, at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral as a soprano.
It was an early music concert, so period instruments as well. After one of the rehearsals, I asked one of the trumpet players if I could try his horn and he let me. It was a very warm sound, similar to a Monette (famous for being unlaquered). My arms were a little short for the valves, so I was grateful to be in the community as a singer and not an instrumentalist….. Although it is fun being able to say that I can play the precursor to the trumpet as well.
When I first moved to Silver Spring, I was involved in choir. I may do it again someday, because I’d like to get back into being a musician. It’s a whole mood. You feel so much adrenaline after rehearsals and concerts that your mood naturally feels lighter and bubblier once they’re over. The reason that even though it’s just rehearsal and your adrenaline still goes up is the competition, and it is relentless. I do not mean that we snipe at each other, I mean the quest for excellence is relentless. I am not competing against anyone in my choir, but to be a better singer than I was the day before. Again, I have been asked to solo for things, so I know I’m capable of it. However, I am most comfortable as a utility player in a choir as well. I can hit high notes, but I am not a diva. I think the altos have more interesting parts, anyway.
I am more on an alto wavelength, because what I’ve found over time is that more altos can read music than sopranos. I think that’s because the alto part is generally more complicated; you can pick a melody out of thin air, but generally not the supporting notes in a chord. Alto parts are usually more complicated rhythmically as well. It has created a stigma that sopranos are airheads. This is not NECESSARILY true………….. There is a huge difference between singers who have taken lessons on instruments and singers who haven’t, because dollars to donuts they were trained in solfege and not reading the notes off the page.
I am not ashamed to admit that I thought solfege was stupid, and I haven’t been proved wrong. But that’s not because I’m not open to solfege for other people. It does work, just not if you’ve already learned to read music first. If you know how to read music, you know there is no need to bring hand movement into things. Yet, we still had to do the hand movements. I never learned them. I just made Spock’s little hand sign thingme and moved it up and down. Mission accomplished.
Because my mother was a pianist and my dad was a trumpet player, I know I learned to read music early, but I can’t remember by how much., as opposed to kids learning in school. I think I was six, because my mother’s rule in taking piano students was that they had to be able to reach an octave. As in, the thumb can be on middle C and their pinky can comfortably hit the C above. I didn’t start band, however, until I was in grade five. So, 10, I think? What I do know is that I already knew how to read music before a horn was ever put into my hands.
Singing is very hard on your body, but in a good way. As in, you’ll exercise muscles you don’t normally use and it will hurt until you get used to it. The workout keeps getting more and more productive, less and less irritating. I know I am on the right track when I can lift a heavy book with my diaphragm alone.
I just thought of something funny. Dana’s mom said, “that voice! Where did it come from?” I realized I would not be lying if my answer had been that it was Biblical, because the book I use the most frequently to work out those muscles is an Interpreter’s Bible.
I’d like to be able to run with the big boys there, too. For instance, I think Father Nathan Monk is the bees knees, because he’s already doing what I’ve always wanted to do, which is minister to people no matter what they believe. Just because there’s no God in it doesn’t mean it’s not church. Secular humanism is valid. People want to live in community and help each other whether they believe there’s a higher power or not.
Father Nathan spent many years in the church before he became an atheist, and I would argue, a better priest in the process. He’s also queer, poly, neurodivergent, and from the way he writes, probably an INFJ as well. I’ve just been watching him on Facebook for a while, and it seems like we have a lot in common. He’d be one of those guys I’d like to host on a podcast about success, because he built a business off his haters. He talks about sweeping negativity away with the “broom of doom,” and he makes jewelry. He started offering broom necklaces on his web site, and the rest was history. And though we’re peers, I know I would relate to him like I relate to my dad, which is “I’m interested in this stuff, but you’ve got a degree.” I have only been a preacher’s kid, and Nathan is ordained in the Orthodox church.
However, I do not have to be ordained because I do not want to pastor a church. I do not want to be the head of the community, just in the middle where I can enjoy everyone else and not have to worry about the direction the church is taking because I do not even want to be paid to care. I worry enough about the global church without the responsibility of a local congregation.
I think that I have done something Father Nathan has also done, which is to lay out my thoughts on theology on social media (he uses Facebook, I use WordPress) because I think they are important culturally. I am trying to give you a picture in your mind that CLEARLY says “Christian” and yet doesn’t reflect any of the views espoused by evangelicals who have never read a day of Biblical criticism in their whole lives.
In fact, I own more biblical criticism than most literalists will ever bother reading. That’s because for them, the one book is enough. It’s not necessary to understand those people’s current events, etc. A Baptist will never understand that Jesus was executed for being a loudmouth zealot. His ideas were dangerous to Rome, and the Sanhedrin agreed with them because they thought he was a loudmouth zealot way before they did. Judaism did not want to try anything new and different any more than Rome did. The fact that Romans are so crazy about Jesus now is straight up ridiculous. Nothing Jesus ever said to or about the Romans was valuable until after he died.
Tough room.
We often throw away the genius in our midst, but I don’t know why people who preach love and tolerance are often victims of the worst violence. We seem to murder and regret a lot. In America, it is worse in terms of gun culture, but the Romans were able to murder Jesus very effectively without one.
Governments kill people all the time, but crucifixion is particularly sadistic. Not only did the Romans crucify him, they nailed a sign to the top of the cross mocking him, and the sign was a snarky “King of the Jews.” You know, because being crucified in public just isn’t embarrassing enough. People could come by and mock him in schadenfreude, With crucifixion, the punishment wasn’t death. It was that you didn’t die right away. You slowly suffocated in front of your family, friends, and strangers. While naked if the little piece of cloth fell off.
We as a world have not changed. I do not know what their practice is currently, but the reason we allowed Trigon, our Russian asset, an L pill (cyanide) is because the rumor was that in Russia, if you were caught spying for the US, they would put you in a crematorium feet first. Trigon asked, and we granted, his ability to take his own life before he was tortured. This is not ancient history. Trigon was caught the year I was born.
The L pill was hidden in his pen, so he offered to write out a full confession. They look on in confusion as he bites down on the pen and dies before he hits the floor, saving him emotional trauma and physical dignity, even post-mortem.
It is a different mindset to kill someone than to stand around and watch them suffer. For instance, if I ever did anything that put me on death row, I would not want a viewing gallery. I’d just sneak in one of my ordained friends under the clergy rule and pass quietly, without the feeling that I was being watched like an animal in a zoo……… A feeling that Jesus would most certainly know intimately.
These are the things I want my community to focus on…. That Jesus’s story is tragic and uplifting because of who he was as a person, not who he became post-mortem, post-resurrection, etc.. In the United States, the prevailing message is the opposite, that you are “washed in the blood.” Everything Jesus did while he was alive takes a back seat to the idea that Jesus is magic.
He absolutely is, but his magic comes from the smallest piece of his soul, the son of a carpenter……. The place where no one looks.
What’s a job you would like to do for just one day?
Even if I could do anything in the world for a day, it still only says “job.” So, to me that means I have eight hours to do whatever I want. I don’t want to do anything in child care, cooking, IT, or writing. I’ve already done those- and I have been told by both kids and their parents that I’m a great babysitter. I turn into my mother. What’s not to like? She was a magician with kids, never losing touch with what would motivate them or make them laugh. I’m glad I inherited those things, but I would not like to be a parent. I like working with children and coming home to my sensory-deprived house. I am not saying that I wouldn’t parent a child if my partner needed that from me. I am saying that I do not seek out relationships with children, they just fall into my lap. They are HUGE bonus prizes, because even if I’m dating their mother/father, adults are boring and we know it. I’m always going to have time for a tea party.
The funniest thing is that I identify SO MUCH with girldad memes, because since I wear boys’ clothing, pink nail polish and the like would look equally ridiculous and I’m here for it. I would love if my partner’s kids shared my interests, but if they didn’t, Barbie Dream House here we come.
Having been raised by a teacher, this also falls under child care and not because teaching isn’t the hardest job in the entire world. It takes a highly specialized mind to be able to think like an adult and translate it into child all day long. It’s not the work itself I object to, but that exhaustion in trying to make sure your words are kid-appropriate. I would be your kids’ favorite history teacher if people thought letting Anthony Bourdain teach their eighth graders was a good idea. Hey, maybe that is a good idea. Call me (if my phone blows up, there’s a lot more wrong with this country than I thought previously).
Here’s a trick my mom had up her sleeve. She had one kid, Dexter, that was giving her issues and she knew that he was making fun of her because she couldn’t speak Spanish. He would pretend not to know English and continue doing right on what she was doing. So, she hired a ringer for the day.
My mother starts teaching and Dexter starts his bullshit and all of a sudden in as deep a voice as I’ve got comes “SIENTATE, POR FAVOR!” Even when I was angry, I remembered to say “please.” So, it takes two words to realize Mrs. Baker isn’t playing anymore, and those words were from me- SIT DOWN. I fixed my mother’s problem for her, but it wouldn’t have been my idea to get me to do it. Having a daughter that spoke Spanish was just a tool in her toolbox and she wasn’t afraid to retrieve it.
Speaking of Spanish, that opens up something I really would like to do for a day. I’d love to be a translator. I’m not fluent in anything besides English, and some would argue that I still have lots of work to do there as well. It doesn’t have to be in Spanish. I assume that if I can do anything I want for eight hours, I will also be given the ability to pick up the language skills needed to do the job. It would be quite a kick to be fluent in Russian/Ukrainian, or Arabic and Hebrew. If my job was simple translation, I would still want to matter to history. Those are the languages we’re hearing about in the news the most often.
I talk a lot about intelligence, but because I’m a writer, I would do better at State. I would be getting the public version of all that intelligence and actually be able to discuss it, vs trying to collect the data in the shadows. I don’t like drowning in information I can’t use. There’s no way to air it out. There’s no way to get light to it. Pieces of yourself slowly suffocate.
So, I’ve narrowed it down to being a translator at State. And now I’ve arrived at my answer. I do not believe that the Secretary of State has language skills in every region. So, I’d like to be a translator for them when something really hot was popping. I wouldn’t do anything more than I am doing right now….. Which is trying to describe the rooms I’m in. They’d just be different rooms than the ones I inhabit now.
But if you know anything about Washington, it’s that those jobs are probably reserved for teenagers because the entire city would shut down if everyone in the government from ages 18-23 decided they were over it. Lindsay just laughed. She’s 1800 miles away, and I still know that she laughed (she worked on Congressional races at that age). If I really, really wanted to be a translator at State, I’ve missed my window. But we are suspending disbelief, so that hopefully I will be in the room when peace in the Middle East is achieved…. Or Ukraine keeps their independence….. I do not have delusions of grandeur in terms of making money. I just want my job to be historically significant.
I think that’s what you learn about working in Washington, to be honest. There has to be glory outside of money, otherwise it’s just bilking taxpayers. Spies, diplomats, the military, everybody works on the same pay scale. When you are talking about money and espionage, we do pay our assets quite a bit for their help.
As Jonna Mendez has pointed out, Adolf Tolkachev was known as the billion dollar spy, as in, we didn’t pay him a billion dollars, but that’s how much he saved American taxpayers. So, we paid him handsomely and he was executed before he had any time to spend it. But, the case officer who gave him money was a regular GS like everyone else.
To me, there is also no solo glory. It takes a team of people to get everything done. I do not need to be a hero. I am perfectly happy to be recognized as “et al.” It’s more important for me to know that I participated than to receive recognition for it.
I would like to be able to say that I was writing history, but thanks to all of you, I already am.
List the people you admire and look to for advice…
This is the first time anyone has ever asked me this question and I thought to put myself on the list. I have never been comfortable enough before in my own skin to think my opinion was worth anything. However, once I sat with my thoughts day in and day out, my discomfort at sharing those opinions went away. Mostly because I realized that no one is wrong or right. We are all making it up as we go along. I didn’t have to put people I admired on a pedestal because my opinions were just as good as theirs. It wasn’t hero worship. It was thinking something was wrong with me and that made them automatically better at opinions.
It is also true that when you’re physically disabled and mentally ill, other people assume they’re better with the thinking because they don’t have those issues. It is amazing to me that people think treated bipolar disorder and untreated are the same. So, you have a lot of people who tell you that your opinions aren’t worth anything because to them they aren’t. They have invalidated you by your diagnosis. People tend to be dismissive because they don’t think I’m in my right mind anyway. I don’t know what I’m saying.
In a very real sense, this is true. Accurate and dead on. I do not know what I am saying.
This is because I know exactly what I am saying, but through my autism and ADHD, I do not know what you hear when I talk. I know this because of the difference in what I mean vs. what people have angrily insisted I mean. This is because their brains process the order of my words differently than I do, which changes the meaning of a sentence.
What could possibly go wrong?
It leads people to put emotion where it doesn’t belong, because they’re, in effect, accenting the wrong syllable. Thinking I’m being aggressive, sarcastic, cold, whatever the emotion and telling me that- which is great. I need to know your experience of me. The problem comes in when there is no way to prove to you that I mean what I say and I say what I mean, so I am struggling against the way you perceived my words and not what they actually were. For instance, trying to prove I wasn’t trying to be aggressive when you are absolutely convinced I purposefully tried to anger you.
There is really no way to un-fuck that particular situation. I walk away from those relationships because the thing that’s harder than anything else in a relationship is proving you’re NOT angry. With autism, disproving any negative, really. It’s hard to prove you’re NOT anything if someone’s perception in their minds of you is certain.
Through being autistic, I have learned that I am a master manipulator while I sit there and wonder why people say that….. Or I did, until I learned I was autistic. That everything I say is probably going to come out wrong. So, I’m in a situation where people think I’m manipulating them and it’s supported by the fact that I’m bipolar.
I am not malicious and I am not mentally ill. I take medication every day for it. You don’t call someone blind when you can see the glasses on their face- their vision is corrected. You don’t treat a mentally ill person like they’re on thin ice for being put away.
You don’t focus on the fact that someone is an alcoholic. You focus on the fact that they’re in recovery.
So, if I know I’m not malicious and that I’m not trying to manipulate people, then obviously I am failing in my communication and need to learn new strategies for saying the same things. This is because I do not have a problem voicing needs anymore, but I don’t know how to talk at all without people telling me that I’m acting like I know everything.
However, it’s only a certain group of my friends that jump on me this way, so how they communicate plays into it as well. It is not a one sided communication issue. Because they have things in common, my pattern recognition on what they’re doing reads universal rather than personal to each individual relationship.
So, not only do I need better communication overall, I specifically need guidance on how to phrase things so that I don’t sound like I’m master of the universe. My self-esteem is so incredibly low (and I’m vulnerable about it) that I’m surprised people think I sit around and think about how great I am.
Coming into my own was hearing the child inside me say, “hey. You’re not THAT bad.” My trouble with communication made me reticent to give an opinion at all, because it always came out wrong. I have been told that the most fucking irritating thing about me in the whole entire goddamn world is that I’m always right, so take that for what you will.
One of the reasons I shut down and became a writer, basically talking to myself for incredibly long periods of time is that it came across like people tolerated me rather than genuinely wanting to be in my company. I jumped into writing because I wasn’t wanted elsewhere, and not in a “poor me” kind of way. It was “I don’t have to have friends, because I can entertain myself.”I do indeed have friends, I’m just saying that my happiness is dependent on them. I have the capability to bring myself joy; no one is responsible for making me happy.
I also think that writing reinforces what I think- I am not arguing with myself over how I feel in person because I’ve already written about it here. Therefore, people are deathly intimidated by me because I am deft in an arena where few people excel. My Achilles Heel is that I often have communication issues and end up beating the wrong dead horse instead of the right one…….. Because I interpreted someone else’s words putting the accent on the wrong syllable.
There are plenty of people that I look to for advice, generally my sister and Bryn are at the top of the list.
I ask Supergrover for advice all the time. It’s just that her responses are calculated on everything she’s already said. It’s the same way with Dana. I can’t go back in time, but their uploaded consciousnesses live in me. I talk to their characters. Their characters don’t grow and change, but it’s comforting nonetheless.
I am coming to rely more and more on myself because I realize that being disabled and autistic has led me to discount my opinions, buying into the view everyone else has about both groups. I realized when I was talking about people I go to for advice, it felt like I wasn’t even allowing myself to sit in the conference room with them.
I started taking up more space when I realized I wanted to define myself. That it was okay to take up room. It was okay if I didn’t swallow other people’s opinions whole in order to please them.
I’m not the expert. I constantly play tapes in my head of the things people have said about/to me and it sits in my brain like a rock. I defined myself by all the negative things that people placed on me, and thought I was a bad person because of it. I don’t mean recently. I mean I can tell you about feeling the exact same way at six years old. School is brutal for kids who can’t communicate. Having a neurotypical kindergarten teacher was the first time I realized that people couldn’t hear what I was saying and were putting meanings into my mouth.
I started releasing my demons as a writer…… Or at least, as I said the other day, exercising them. I hardly ever say “exercise” because I know they ain’t leavin.’ It makes me laugh to think of my demons in workout clothes. We are very serious. We are eating Starburst for breakfast.
Breakfast of champions.
I do not know what it is about the autistic brain that makes me insufferable. It’s funny because it’s true. But know that it’s not all me. Part of it is that I have a disability you know nothing about, and are choosing to believe I am not that different from you. The fault in this is not being able to predict my behavior and thinking you can because your heuristics are for neurotypical people.
I am taking responsibility for learning my half, but I can only meet you. I cannot go all the way to the other side and drag you to the middle. It is a disability. Worrying that I’m failing is a non-issue because it doesn’t matter. There’s no chance of winning. It’s miserable when that reality sets in.
I have found that I need respect for myself because I am so misunderstood. I am also not saying I’m not part of the problem. I haven’t known I was autistic since I was a kid, so I have to learn new coping mechanisms.
I think the thing that hurt me the most this week was a scene from “The Big Bang Theory” in panels as a meme on Facebook. It’s Amy telling Sheldon that his friends all hate his bad behavior and that the fact that he can’t do anything about it is the only reason they tolerate him.
I cannot be dependent on external validation. I write or pray. It’s a new development, but trusting in myself hasn’t backfired.
I cannot use the daily prompt tag very often because I did 99% of them last year. Please follow me if you’d like to read more. You can also keep up with me on Facebook, where you can interact with me, other readers of the blog, and great authors I’ve come to know in my time as a Facebook creator.
I have had both Android-based and Apple phones. Either way, I use Google Maps because I find it superior. I don’t know why. I just like the interface better than Apple Maps, and Google maps does the same thing on my watch that Apple Maps does, which is to buzz my watch when it’s time to turn. If I have my headphones in, there’s no need for it because the turn by turn navigation is in my ear, but when I don’t the haptic feedback on my watch is actually better than an audio alert.
I started out with my literal answer because the prompt reminded me of something Kathleen told me, the story of her college interview. Now, Kathleen (like every person I’ve ever dated) was incredibly smart. She was a business major at University of Houston, and ended up accepting a position at ExxonMobil in Global Information Systems. That’s how I moved to DC in the first place. Basically, the last person you’d ever think did something like this, which only made it funnier.
Kathleen was trying to get into Simmons, which is a women’s college in Boston on The Fenway. They are known for library science, I believe, but it wasn’t her interest. She wanted to live in Boston on The Fenway. I would like to point out that she DID get in after this, she just didn’t graduate there.
The interviewer asked her what she would bring to the college, and she said, “the blanket my grandma gave me, probably my pot-bellied bear (stuffed animal)……….” I was CRYING, shaking with laughter and so was she because of course she laughed about it in retrospect.
I don’t know everything she did end up taking with her to Boston, but she did take me (later on). She was supposed to graduate in the class of 2000, which she did, just in Houston. But her best friend was still graduating from Simmons that year, so I got the grand tour. The school’s address is literally 500 The Fenway, so we had access to everything right in our backyards. I loved Boston and wished I could have stayed longer.
I remember one souvenir I got that trip- a Harvard medical school sweatshirt for my dad. I didn’t go to a class at Harvard, but I did sit in on one at MIT. I think it was a math class, but I’ve slept since then. Whatever it was, I did not understand it. I don’t remember it because there are no “good lines” to connect me to it. My brain works through echologia. If there’s not a valuable thought or idea attached to a memory, it fades because I don’t repeat it in my head. In my head, good writing runs like a tape.
I can remember snippets of my dad’s sermons and it has been 29 years since he’s done a single service (not counting weddings or funerals). He will do those if someone asks him. As in, when you leave the church you stop doing active ministry, but they don’t take away your ordination. He can still sign legal documents as the officiant, etc. He left the church the summer before my 17th birthday, and went into medicine as a second career until he “retired.” In quotes because his philanthropy work takes up a lot of time. I tend to confuse people when I say I’m a preacher’s kid, because they don’t know my dad as a Rev. Meanwhile, I only had one grade school year in which he wasn’t a pastor.
“Can we cuss now?” -Lindsay L. Lanagan, 1995
I cannot say it was a different direction for my life as well, because like I said, I was almost 17. Not enough time for things to change drastically in terms of what I would do once high school was over, etc. I think those things would have played out the same, because being ADHD/autistic of course I didn’t plan anything in advance. I just took the basic entrance exams for junior college in Fort Bend, then transferred to UH. I’ve never even taken the SAT.
It just occurred to me to say out loud that I tend to have a delayed response to stress, thinking I’m fine until I break apart into a million pieces. It puts my behavior over the last 10 years in stark relief, that I’m fine right up until I’m not. That I will not explode because I am intentionally trying to hurt someone. I don’t realize that I’m overwhelmed, overstimulated, and at my breaking point.
In high school, that presented as a migraine that wouldn’t go away and landed me in the hospital for four days. The only reason I was mad about it is that I had to take my finals, because I had a good enough average to be excused and then I had too many absences. It wasn’t bad, though, just an annoyance at having to go to school longer than my peers. I was freaked out because I wanted to be at home with Meagan, because she’d gotten into University of New Brunswick and was leaving soon….. Another reason I had a full blown migraine. I was melting down due to stress and grief.
Dating a Canadian was really hard, because there was something so FINAL about her going to school in a different country. I knew she was never coming back, and I was right. She has never moved back to the US. Although what I can say is that researching immigration wasn’t wrong, and that I would have been happy if I’d done it even if the relationship had still failed. I have spent enough time in Ottawa with Meag to know I would have liked living there. But honestly, the more I researched immigration, the more final everything became because an autistic 18 year old cannot handle the logistics of an international move. I was overwhelmed by details from the beginning.
In terms of direction, what I knew is that if I wanted to go to UNB as well, I had to like the school on its own merit because people break up. So, I sent for an information packet and got an interactive CD-ROM that included a tour of the campus and some games to get you familiar with living there, like a scavenger hunt. It’s the most clever and creative recruitment tool I’ve ever seen anyone do, and WAY ahead of its time because it was basically the precursor to things like interactive web sites. I didn’t get anything like it from any of the other schools to which I applied, but does it surprise you that UNB got me by giving me something I didn’t have for my computer?
Do I regret not following Meag back to Canada? My perspective has changed. It’s a mixed bag, right? My answer today is very different than it was before the 2016 election, but even as a teenager I agreed with Canada’s socialist policies. People who say “socialist” like it’s a bad word because conservatives have convinced them it is. Meanwhile, Alberta has a thriving oil economy just like Texas and yet the people of Alberta still have nationalized health care and Texas has a lot more money. There is still income disparity, but no one is left to die on the streets. You can have capitalism and socialism.
Ask Deadpool.
Knowing what I know now, I would be horrified to change a thing that would have altered the course of my life away from eventually coming back to DC. The way it happened is just too oddly specific to recreate, and while my life would have been great as a Canadian, I would have kicked the shit out of myself for not going to Portland. If I hadn’t given up on immigration, I wouldn’t have met Dana.
Meeting Dana altered the direction of my life the most, because I’ve lived in Portland twice. I had to move back because I missed her too much; my girlfriend was way too jealous and possessive for me to have any friends. I mean it. She was emotionally abusive, and though she never punched me, she punched through a wall in my apartment (NOT HERS) when I told her that Meag was coming to stay with me……. Even when I didn’t say “Meag is coming to stay with me and we’re going to be alone in my apartment digging up old memories.” It wasn’t some sort of game. I said, “Meag, her partner, and their little girl are coming to stay with me.” She was still apoplectic and told me that it was inappropriate and I should have asked her if they could spend the night.
We didn’t live together.
We’d been dating three months.
And on some level I still thought I was an asshole and she was right. She said something to me that I’ve forgiven, but I’ve never forgotten.
She said something about not feeling secure in our relationship, that I was really committed, and then said “you look like such a flake when you haven’t finished your degree.” She was a middle school counselor, and it was like she’d never seen anyone with ADHD before……… And she’d never pulled that card before, it was just politically convenient and she knew it would hurt.
It hurt because she knew I was brilliant. She knew I’d turned down an internship with the Human Rights Campaign writing national Sunday school curriculum because she didn’t want me to go. She, like me, thought there was something so FINAL about going away, as if three months was enough that I’d just say “I live here now.” It might have been, but it wouldn’t have been “I want to move back to DC without you.” I felt secure in the relationship, not in Texas. For her, those two things were one and the same. I have several friends who are engineers and manage to have great marriages despite being asked to travel for work, often longer than three months. If that little time apart destroys a relationship, then it wasn’t a real relationship in the first place.
It changed the direction of my life, the giving up of that internship to kowtow to my girlfriend’s fears. Dana put the kibosh on that real quick. She was the one who put the puzzle pieces together and saw how I was being manipulated before I did. Dana’s former partner was an alcoholic, and so was my girlfriend. She could tell a lot without me having to say anything.
I don’t have a problem with alcoholics and addicts. I have a problem with alcoholics not admitting that even though they don’t drink, they’re still dry drunks. As in, the problems that made them drink haven’t gone away and they still exhibit the behaviors of someone who drinks, like manipulation, isolation, etc. I am not saying that if you have problems with alcohol, then you are emotionally abusive. I am saying that I do not have time for alcoholics and addicts who think alcohol is the entire problem. That the only thing they need to do is stop drinking. They don’t have to have therapy, they don’t have to go to meetings, they don’t have to do anything besides not drink.
So, you have a sober person who, for the first time in literal years is feeling real emotions again, and they don’t know what to do with them. Whatever drove them to drink or use is still the monkey on their backs and the ghost out to get them. They’re actively running away from their emotions because they’re not used to them. If you have an addictive personality, you have an addictive personality. That’s why so many former drug and alcohol users start smoking half a pack a day, drinking coffee as a water substitute, and/or you’ll never find something sugary that they don’t like. They cannot be addicted to the things they were in the past, so they find new ones.
But please know that I am not speaking from personal experience in an arena where it’s all about personal experience. I am not trying to speak for an alcoholic or addict, these are just observations I’ve learned from being a coworker in the kitchen and having had friends go through the recovery process. Having an addict living in your house gives you a front-row seat to how that brain works, and it is not so dissimilar from ADHD. If you were neurotypical before you started drinking, there’s a possibility your thought processes will go back to normal. Unfortunately, neurodivergence may be your new normal because the alcohol gave you so much dopamine that your brain cannot possibly keep up. It cannot produce more dopamine than what you used to get from the alcohol, so your brain just sits there and screams. It is possible that you have accidentally induced bipolar disorder, or that you were self-medicating to manage bipolar disorder you didn’t know you had.
Chicken and egg debate on bipolar vs. addict. We’ll never know, but it’s extraordinarily common.
From my perspective, an alcoholic and a bipolar person are perfect for each other because they present so similarly. However, that’s dependent on a lot of factors….. The biggest one is that half of the couple realizes they’re bipolar and what it does to you, and the other realizes they’re an addict and what that does to you. You have to speak from a vulnerable place and know you are capable of being wrong. Red flags are only problematic if you’re managing someone else’s. Knowing you have red flags and saying “I’m working on it” is completely different than trying to hide them and hope no one notices.
Your life becomes more manageable when you realize that you’ve been acting egocentric, and find something to get it out of the way. When you are no longer the center of your own universe, things look very different. “Egocentric,” however, cannot be equated to “selfish.” Plenty of people are egocentric because they feel that asking for things is putting someone else out. Being that shut down is egocentric because you have stopped participating in a give and take, making people guess your needs….. Often, when angry, blaming another person for everything you failed to tell them. In no example of any behavior that I’ve given on this Web site am I immune to being part of the universal “you.” The only behavior I don’t have is drinking too much on a consistent basis. If I feel any amount of hung over, I pull back more. For instance, if I had four drinks over the course of an evening with friends and I felt hung over the next morning, the next time I’d drink three. What I’ve discovered is that the best answer is not to drink at all unless it’s a once in a while treat. Because I’m a blogger/diarist, I absolutely hate losing control. I can tell I’m feeling tipsy when this monologue slows down, and that’s not a good thing. I need every bit of creative juice I’ve got.
I have learned that you do not want alcohol to numb your inner monologue unless the play is shit.
Ass I often do, I surfed Facebook for a few minutes. I was looking for a prompt to give me a jumping off point, because today’s prompt was “are there any quotes you live by?” Last year, the title was “many, most of them mine.” I was not saying that I’m the expert, only that I’m the author I read the most because I go back over what I’ve written to see what’s next. Therefore, my own words are more likely to stick with me because these essays are ABOUT ME, which is the topic I know the most about (on most days).
The thing I saw on Facebook is that “worrying is worshipping the problem.” It is every bit as meaningful as something I heard in “I’m a Christian now. That worked.” It’s a group for atheists and I lurk to see what they’re saying, because I am often jogged theologically by the things they say, like “Jesus wasn’t the only person claiming to be The Messiah at the time. His was just the story that stuck.”
Like today, I had to sit down.
His was the story that stuck, which is to my mind one of the greatest theological phrases ever uttered in the history of ANYTHING….. BY AN ATHEIST and I am FURIOUS I didn’t think of that line before they did. 😉
Except for perhaps a line tied with it (being the best and furious I didn’t think of it) “a/theism is the greatest love story ever told, and the truth is in the slash.” I am not talking about the overwhelming guilt and shame the church is quite capable of handing you….. Wrapped in bread and wine, no less. I am talking about Christopher Hitchens debating Rowan Williams on YouTube and learning they were good friends. Zac and I were actually talking about this the other day because he’s an atheist. I told him that I loved Hitch, but I didn’t love Richard Dawkins because he may be smart but he’s also an asshole.
He seems to me to be a not religious evangelical, and his schtick is making Christians look like they’re stupid even when they’re only out for self improvement and not world domination. Social justice Christianity is left out of the conversation because it’s not as easy to make fun of us. We question everything, including the idea that all Christians are stupid.
In effect, Dawkins is worshipping the problem. He’s so fanatical in his beliefs that he’s trying to change people through force and anger, not ever present loving kindness, which all atheists I’ve met have. Luckily, I have never run across an atheist who espoused Dawkins-like views, and I have to say that it’s partly due to my interaction with them- because I don’t try to change them, I don’t tell them they’re wrong because they’re not (religion is a spectrum and belief in God is ontological…. Essentially, God exists as much as you believe God does. Evangelicals get in the weeds with The Great Commission and think that Jesus thought you were personally responsible for recruiting people. They take it a little too seriously and often become right judgmental bastards because of it. You won’t convert, so they’re angry and fearful ALL THE TIME because their getting into heaven is DEPENDENT on your yes. Otherwise, in their churches, they just aren’t working hard enough.
Meanwhile, I am out there saying that atheists I’ve met, for the most part, left church because they were hurt, angry, afraid, and exhausted. You fucking Evangelicals are cancer, especially walking into a church where it explicitly says they won’t marry you if you are A) not a member of the church II) marrying a Jew. I will not tell you where I saw it because it’s not worth it to have you show up and protest. It wasn’t Joel Osteen, but definitely Joel-adjacent.
Now, non-denominational Christianity looks like rock concerts with homophobia that looks beautiful because it’s Biblical.
Meanwhile, your houses are built on sand.
Peter, the rock of the Catholic church, has probably met way more gay people than you. We just didn’t have words for it until Victorian England. A lot of the preachers after Jesus died would have traveled to ancient Greece and Rome. When you think about history lining up that way, homophobia is INSANE.
Homophobia. I do not think it means what you think it means. The Old Testament was not calling homosexuality an abomination. They were railing against the ancient Canaanite practice of young boys becoming prostitutes at the high temple. They were protesting pedophilia and disrespect for a holy place, not the sexual acts inherent to being queer in the first place.
Jesus did not say a word about homosexuality, “therefore, it [justification for treating queer people as lesser than] cannot be essential to his teaching” (Jim Rigby, Presbyterian Church USA). JESUS DOES NOT CARE IF YOU HAVE MATCHING TOWELS, GLASSES, AND SMALL DOGS.
Evangelicals are cracked when everything I know about Jesus can be summed up in one Disney show tune…… “God Bless the Outcasts.” You are JOKING if you believe Jesus sat with sinners all day long and wouldn’t have been on the side of the queer community, because now we’re the ones being persecuted instead of him, his land occupied by Rome. The “Holy Roman Empire” has a lot of fucking nerve, I’ll tell you that much. Crucifixion was your practice and you killed Jews for sport. Then, a Jew’s story becomes well-known and you somehow take it as “permission” to take over the whole world.
This is not the religion you’re looking for.
They’re worshipping the problem.
They’re creating ways to put obstacles in people’s way based on bullshit Jesus never said.
OCCUPIED BY ROME. RENDER UNTO CAESAR, PEOPLE.
Jesus has met a fuckin’ queer, all right?
Stop worshipping the problem, because it was never even there. You made it up. Stop wrecking people’s relationship with Christ because they don’t think they deserve it.
Jesus said to “walk in the light while you have it.” I hate that so many “church people” continue to live in darkness while the light is right above their heads. All they have to do is stand up, but the church keeps them on the kneeling rails.
It wrecks relationships with friends and partners as a result, because you’re not right……. But you’re certain.
Stories That Are All True 