Who Doesn’t?

Do you need time?

We all need more time to understand things than we think we do, and are trying our dead-level best to overschedule; we’re all going place to place and taking in none of them. When I travel again, I’d like to stay at least a week if possible. It takes a while for my body clock to accept a new rhythm, particularly going east. Jet lag was objectively worse coming back to DC from Oregon than it was in the moments I was taking the obligatory Portland airport photo (iykyk). I am using jet lag as an example of needing time because it’s the best way I know how to explain autism to a layperson. Imagine feeling like you have the pressure of your emotions changing to that degree all the time rather than just after a long-haul flight. Taking on change is easier when you feel normal, right? Would you enjoy living in jet lag fog permanently?

This is why transition time is essential to the autistic brain, and why I am yet again grateful that I do not drive. I caused my last wreck from rumination. I’d talked to a close friend earlier in the day, and we hadn’t spoken for years before that. She’d ghosted me without a trace and then reappeared. It was jarring, a new environment for me, so I did what any normal person would do. I thought about it so hard I ran into a guardrail trying to blow town for Frederick, the closest Waffle House. I was about 800 feet from a triple order of hash browns with chili, cheese, and onions (superior to Frito Pie, fight me) when I took a curve a little too hard. Girls with blonde hair will do that to you.

Editor’s Note:

You should absolutely add Fritos to bean burritos at Taco Bell. Also, every once in a while when I hit 7-Eleven, I buy a snack bag of Fritos for the back of the pantry because I’m a Texan and I don’t make the rules. Sometimes you have to have Frito Pie and in that instance, there is no substitute so you might as well be prepared. Not being prepared is such a rookie Texan mistake, because whoever heard of homemade Fritos? You’re going to the store. It’s not that you can’t make AMAZEBALLS tortilla chips at home. I can and they’re fabulous. But they sure as hell don’t taste like Fritos…….. just like pastry chefs are going to use Oreos/Oreo crusts. They’re not going to reinvent that particular wheel.We’ve learned it over time.

Back to our regularly scheduled program.

What you learn with enough time is how to control your environment to the extent that you can and let go of the rest. I’m not going to be able to convince Supergrover that what she read as narcissism was actually an autistic meltdown. I am sure that she regularly thinks I am the most toxic person she’s ever met because I just keep throwing these truth bombs because I’m an asshole and not because I am genuinely curious and love her more than anything on earth. If I throw an emotional bomb, it means I care about the answer and want to hear it. I heard a line from “Friends” that expresses this so well…. when Chandler looks into Monica’s eyes and tells her that she’s high maintenance, but he likes maintaining her. I am not an asshole with a God complex, she has complex problems that cannot be solved with “yeah, I’m fine.” If you want to see a question as an attack, you will.

I honestly found out I was autistic because of this relationship. I had to find out two things. The first was why I was so empathetic on the inside and yet it came across as being self-absorbed. Everyone knows that autistic person, or we know each other. Bet.

I learned over time that the meltdowns happened in a cycle because I would unmask and start letting my brain run wild on these ADHD/Autistic tangents and she would take offense at me not acting like a woman, seriously, and I’m not being dismissive toward her. It’s that traditional women are programmed to fix/please and anticipate everyone else’s needs.

We used to be a little too much alike in that arena, but I felt safe enough to stop with her because she’s so goddamn strong. She lays down the truth bombs as easily and often as I do. It’s just that hers are in the context of what she knows, and mine are in the context of what I do. Her emotional bombs are surrounded by not understanding my neurodivergence, her stepping all over my ass while I’m trying to teach her why my reactions to her are so much more intense than her reactions to me and failing miserably. Why it feels like I’ll always go a little stupid in that dreamy-eyed kind of way when I think of her, and have to stuff that kind of emotion back because it’s part of a social mask I don’t have. Just so many sensory issues that I attach to her, like the smell of coffee or the feel of the t-shirt that I kidded her I ordered that “has her portrait on the front.”

I have already said that the building blocks of our relationship are adrenaline and dopamine. My ADHD/Autism created those memories of smell when my brain chemicals were the most flooded. It’s why I’m so attached to her with a love that won’t die, but not like I loved Dana. Like I love my parents and siblings. The thing is, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she loves me the same way, because when Sam dumped me I told her and then she said her Mama Wolverine claws were coming in. I have never been so grateful for anything in my entire life because my next line to her was that my biggest delight in life was thinking about just how pissed off she was about this. It was that night I formed my first company. It’s called Leslie Lanagan & Pet Monsters on a Fraying Leash, Inc. We’re waiting on our 501, though.

When I become the most upset, I have a meltdown and then burnout. In those moments, burnout looks like me losing function and going mute, only communicating through writing. I get sensory issues from eating because it’s an ADHD hyperfocus interruption and I switch to vegan protein shakes. If that’s not enough, I develop sensory issues with leaving my house, reinforced by depression, anxiety, and an overactive imagination. The overactive imagination is a straight up problem because everything I imagine is a hundred times worse due to rejection sensitivity dysphoria, a common trait among neurodivergent people because we’ve been programmed to think of ourselves as problematic.

I should mention that there is also fascinating research suggesting that the number of autistic people who are nonbinary, queer, and poly is off the charts. My behavior suggests I’m not poly unless we’re talking about writing and physiciality, because emotional intimacy with multiple people is easy. Physically? Not so much. I’m just not wired that way. That doesn’t mean I’m not poly. It just means I probably wouldn’t meet someone on the ground and behave the same way. It remains to be seen whether I could manage that or not, and doing the work to see whether I’m doing the right thing for me or lending myself to getting into a situation where I can’t help myself and put someone I’ve made a monogamous agreement with completely uncomfortable because I broke the rules. Just because it happened organically doesn’t mean I didn’t cheat. Just because it only happened to me doesn’t mean I didn’t cheat. The road to hell was paved with good intentions.

I need to make it so clear that I cheated on Dana, but Supergrover didn’t cheat on Michael because of course since I’m queer, my reaction to her was different than her reaction to me. That doesn’t make my emotions to her invalid, just different. She also doesn’t have autism or ADHD, so none of her sensory issues are going to run as deep as mine, and she gave me some pictures that caused sensory issues, but not sexual ones. They activated my alpha dog and my mama wolverine. When I feel that way about someone, it makes me attracted to them…. and in fact, when I don’t feel connected to someone in that way, being physical doesn’t come up. Romance, as with all things, has two modes for me. Obsession and absolute disinterest. It’s why autistic people have trouble with relationships. If they have neurotypical partners who take everything personally, they will not be happy, and probably jump too quickly to the conclusion that their partners are lazy, unmotivated, and angry at them because of their rejection at lights out.

It was a relief to come to that resolution in my mind with Supergrover, that even though the relationship was not nor would ever be physical, I had learned a lot about the way I work in a relationship because she took so much personally that I never intended.

I remember telling her that it was really hard hearing about the abuse she endured as a child, that my heart walked out of my body and I just had to breathe through it. She thought I was trying to make her feel bad, but I was trying to explain both why our trauma bond was immediate and deep. She became a monotropic thought process, what I mean when I say she lives in my ink. I was telling her why I loved her with such intensity and drive, and that in some ways I was sorry that process came across as negative, but not sorry for loving her as much as I do. She’s amazing, and part of the reason that I haven’t fallen in love again is that I hold every woman to her standard and find other women uninteresting. Why would I put myself out there when intellectual stimulation is more important and no one gives it to me more than she does? No one will ever be able to beat her in that area, even though Zac and I are wrapped up in my special interest. It’s not because he’s not brilliant, it’s that we’re talking about history and she’s making it.

If you never believe another word I say, believe that.

She jokes that other women are the smartest woman in the room except her, but you don’t know the room where she said it and I do. She knows an actor I would kill to meet, and a director, and neither of them do what she does. She knows them by dumb luck, the same dumb luck that put us together. Karma is magic and I will never believe anything more than that. I got a gift from the universe at the exact moment it needed to drop in my lap, and my nose got red at that, the first signal I’m about to cry, when I wrote that. And yet, even Zac doesn’t know who she is and respects my privacy like I know when to stop pushing about work. She’s my “classified information,” for all practical intents and purposes. I could tell you if it wouldn’t embarrass her across the world, but I wouldn’t. I keep it tight to love her, not to diss you. The “classified information” joke just fits in with my whole vibe. I will never stop being, in the immortal words of Zac Wood, a “drooling fangirl” over CIA, but that’s only because I’ve seen the disparity between the way people treat soldiers and the way they treat spies. Civilians matter.

And I’m a judgmental bastard, just not of people. Of institutions and situations. It’s how I can feel every emotion in the spectrum about Supergrover. How love and fear are inextricably interrelated, why I have no problem walking on eggshells for years and yet struggled so hard with my needs being met that I finally walked away. It was killing my self esteem and better for me when I stopped letting it.

Doesn’t mean I don’t miss her, and at first it was every moment of every day. You don’t learn to let go overnight, and my writing has proved it. She’ll never be far from my thoughts, though, because in the last 10 years of my life, my thought processes and emotions regarding her have been so deeply ingrained. It’s why I even thought we’d be good for each other as partners in the first place, but not that I insisted on it. It was just too good a question not to ask, because it made sense at that point, a united front. But then my monotropic thought process spiraled out about that, too, and it was just bad juju. It was a question better left unanswered, I’m just autistic and ADHD. My autism made me hammer away at it and my ADHD gave me no impulse control.

I didn’t know how those diagnoses affected my behavior until I knew I had them. I only knew about one. I didn’t know about the other, that when I am in autistic mode relationships take over my whole brain because I’m also an INFJ. I wanted the best for both my red and yellow strings and got them tangled. It was a struggle to stop dwelling, but I’m glad I did it and I know the root cause.

I have learned not to let relationships take hold of me in that way because it makes me give all my energy toward making them a better person. All INFJs are attracted to teaching and social work sorts of positions because we want all of our close relationships to be the best people that they can be. I wasn’t obsessed with who Supergrover could be, but helping her to be her best self. An INFJ will not watch anyone stagnate.

It was all reinforced by the fact that it’s easier for me to talk to other people about their problems than it is for me to talk about mine, because then I can stop social masking. I can stop remembering to make my thought processes masked and just listen.

I notice things that no one else does and people call me brilliant for pointing it out when it’s something they love and hurtful even when I don’t mean harm. It’s a lost place to be when your self-esteem is dependent on other people to that extreme, because when you take off your social masking and other people react poorly, you drift toward making masking the priority and it drains your energy before you even have the spoons to leave the house. The meltdown/burnout cycle is real and it’s deep.

Neurotypical people can only take so much before they decide you’re too much for them, and that has been true of neurodivergent people since we were born. “Autism Speaks” has an awful video where a mother says in front of her child that she thought about strapping her into the car and killing them both. I am sure that she thought she could get away with it because her daughter wasn’t “high functioning,” whatever the fuck that means, and she has no idea what her daughter is capable of processing emotionally without being verbal. What if the internal tape that plays in her head is “my mom wanted to kill me and didn’t.” Being “high functioning” is being able to speak for the mute and letting them speak for me when I am….. more specifically, I am non-verbal a lot of the time but I can reach out through text.

I need the world to adapt around me, and I am not being selfish or egocentric when the problem runs as deep as children feeling like their parents don’t want them. I am not alone when I say that I feel the pain of being too much for people, driving my depression and anxiety. Everyone wants to stop me from drowning, but few people are willing to help me from falling into the river in the first place.

Supergrover did the best she could, just not fast enough for my autism not to kick in. A trauma bond is a hell of a drug. It’s what made me rearrange my life around her and not Dana. It was the same deal with her- I never wanted to have a situation with another partner where I leaked information that wasn’t supposed to go to them because I felt so bad when I did it. She forgave me and moved on, but thought it was impulsive to solve the problem.

When you have situations where your sensory issues attach to a problem and it gets deep fast, you move quickly…. often what leads to getting married in a hurry and things like that. You are always trying to create a secure environment and you’ll grasp at straws because acceptance of your neurodivergence is transient. Because of this, Supergrover is the longest of any of my significant relationships by almost three years. It was more significant to me because it was in my wheelhouse, the writing.

Her greatest gift to me was that time, and I’ve loved it despite walking away in frustration. I needed a secure environment and couldn’t get one, so I grasped at the comfort of isolation whether I wanted it or not.

I want more because she’s wonderful. I also love her enough to let her go because the relationship didn’t serve us presently like it did in the past. I didn’t have room for other people like Zac, and in some ways my pathways are so changed there might not ever be. Sam got in under the wire, but even then my attention didn’t completely turn.

I need more time to spend with her, but only in reflection if need be. I learned so much from her, and it’s time to take all that away because I don’t want to pour love into her if she does not accept it. I would rather be alone with my thoughts in that case. The affect she has on me is tremendous and I cannot underestimate its effect. She doesn’t think of her (or me) in this way, so it clouds our judgment on whether we’re telling the truth. We both have trauma reflexes, and don’t treat each other like we’re worthy of being treated like goddesses. That’s because the root of our anger is how we feel about ourselves. We are both fixer/pleasers, and both easily jump to the conclusion that the other means the worst.

For instance, when Supergrover said “I can do nothing about the past. I can do something about the present,” and “this is all I can manage,” I took it to mean I would never get anything I wanted and to die mad about it. What I didn’t say is “what can you do about the present that you haven’t in the past?” I saw the writing on the wall and pushed her away.

I will never know if I was correct, but I do know that our relationship had that cycle for 10 years and I didn’t want to do it anymore. There was quite a difference between Mama Wolverine and ignoring me because you think I’m goading and provoking you instead of asking me questions in return. We both got defensive immediately.

I never wanted a war, but I started it. I am only suffering under the terms and conditions of the surrender. My bad behavior was supposedly forgiven and I haven’t been able to express a need without nuclear war for eight years. I didn’t think she was lying because she said she forgave me. I thought she was lying to herself about how much she wanted to be friends with me because she always seemed pissed off. I know enough to know that the world doesn’t revolve around me, but I can feel the energetic difference between “I’m busy” and “I’m ignoring you” even in text.

For instance, I have lots of friends that I hope aren’t mad at me because I’ve gone mute and can’t handle conversations right now. I have enough energy for an occasional Facebook comment, but mostly I am spending my energy on changing my own thought processes here. I will never be able to sustain myself if I don’t. It is how my life is coming together, not how it is falling apart.

I had huge sensory issues that Zac didn’t tell me he had a roommate before I arrived on Sunday, but I told him that and he apologized. He wasn’t trying to offend me, just spaced it, but that didn’t render my feelings invalid. He’s a solid dude and remembers so many things I don’t remember saying, so I know he does listen to me, deeply, I just have to roll with it because he’s neurodivergent like me.

It’s why I need Zac, and why I need time.

I Thought We Decided Prediction Was a Bad Idea

What will your life be like in three years?

Hillary Clinton was going to be the first female president of the United States right up until she wasn’t. We didn’t think the world would completely shut down right up until it did. Both of those things have American historical precedent, but the Spanish Flu was so long ago that we’d forgotten nature could do that. So, two things. The first is that my predictions may or may not be accurate. The second is that the future depends on my pattern recognition of what has happened in my past. It is only by acknowledging it that I’ve gained the strength to move on. I sat in pain because I didn’t recognize the source…….. until I started writing consistently enough that when I’m dealing with a present problem I could think about ones like it in the past and see what I did then.

I get to decide whether what I did then would still serve me now. Most of the time, it doesn’t, and that’s the helpful part. When you can see the consequences of your actions, you don’t just have a theory on how future events could spiral out. You have evidence. Writing a journal like this would help me if I published it or not. Privately, it would serve me just as well. Publicly, it is something I do well because I have an ability to communicate= when I am not completely overwhelmed by social masking.

Social masking is the process of learning how neurotypical people do things, and you learn this whether you have autism, ADHD, or childhood PTSD. I have all three, but my PTSD is not on the level of someone who has been sexually abused or in a theater of war. It’s just that all PTSD reactions are similar, the difference is in degrees.

The longer you have normal reactions before the abuse occurs, the more time you’ll have banked with them so that your personality will integrate easier after the abuse is over (it still takes extensive therapy, though). For instance, being sexually abused is horrible for children and teenagers. Horrible. There is no competitive suffering. I’m talking about the number of years of heuristics based on normal human responses in growth and development vs. feeling like a four year old combat vet. Your entire personality, according to Erik Erickson, is set by the time you’re six years old. The younger you are, the more trauma reflexes are deeply ingrained because they were put there before the concrete hardened.

I have learned this through love, and a whole lot of it. My first wife’s childhood babysitter talked her brother into molesting her in front of him when she was a little girl.  The person I considered my best friend in middle school and the character I call Supergrover both went through similar malicious events, though not exactly. The only problem is that the person I considered to be my best friend in middle school was actually an adult who, knowingly or not, passed her reflexes onto me. Trying to be a loving friend, I gave too much of myself away so that I developed that split personality as well. We are both singers used to crowds and both hiding a lot in private. The difference is that I am aware that I have huge flaws and failures and do something about them. She knew everything was wrong and it was okay with her.

She was a narcissist of the first order, the adult that needed a parent because she inverted that dynamic almost immediately. Consciously or unconsciously, she knew I was an easy target. I bought it hook, line, and sinker. She wasn’t using me, she was a hurt bird with a broken wing and I was helping her. Why would I think that I needed to be a serious support system for a 25 year old when I was 14? Why would I think I had the power to be a support system with all my vast library of life history?

I reacted to Supergrover with that whole “hurt bird” schtick because she did the same thing to me- but I don’t mean this in a negative way. I mean that she was the one who realized my wings were broken and she didn’t see herself as the only one who needed to be hugged and kissed back together. So much of my love of and for her is based on that one idea. The power dynamic of my childhood was erased once that particular wound healed. My reactions later were based on having done something wrong and inducing the pattern again so that my reactions were regressing. The power dynamic is around us, not within us.

I learned that predicting the future is not being able to control how other people react to me, but being able to recognize when my behavior says I am trying to ruin something because that’s how I feel comfortable. I have been so far unwilling to live without the push/pull of tainted love (cue the music).

Being able to recognize that pattern is what allows me to keep all my relationships in balance. I am responsible for cleaning up my own damage, and noticing when other people don’t clean up theirs. I sit in judgment of their actions, not of their character. I believe there is good in everyone, they just don’t always take the time to find it. I often stay far too long in relationships because I am an Idealist and focus on who the person could be instead of who they are.

I don’t exactly know how to stop that because first of all, it’s a feature, not a bug. The INFJ personality type is all about dragging people kicking and screaming toward utopia…….. yet, there is an underside. The trap of that Meyers-Briggs type is not being able to wipe the dirt off your sandals because your empathy is taking over common sense. You start justifying every behavior and allow yourself to be treated poorly because they’re going to stop. You have seen it in your ideal world and are ignoring the real one at your peril. That’s because in the real world, if you called them on their behavior, they’d change to respect your boundaries…… but they don’t and you have time blindness to it because your idealism says you should…. and this is even before we start talking about echo chambers and how your self esteem plays into it.

There is a thing as forgiving someone not seven times, but seven times seven. There is also no shame in trying to stop hammering away at something because it was so wonderful in the beginning and paradise lost.

In three years, I would like to find it again by being able to communicate naturally for an autistic person; I can handle the extreme emotions that come with both it and ADHD (I have classic female ADD, but the DSM doesn’t differentiate anymore. I am also just plain autistic because Asperger’s is not a thing.). I’ve known I was ADHD since I was a child, but I did not know that ADHD and Autism are inextricably interrelated in a ton of cases- they can be two separate diagnoses, but often aren’t.

The reason it’s hard to uncover the Autism/ADHD personality is that the two processing disorders make you exhibit some behaviors that are similar and some that are wildly different. That balance makes you look neurotypical. I am also capable of social masking, which is what we’re talking about when you see those dramatic meltdowns on “The Good Doctor.” Some autistic people can social mask, but that level of distress is happening internally and we have to pretend to be fine.

I also need to learn how to handle autistic burnout, which is a lot like neurotypical burnout but goes quite a bit deeper. Social masking is exhausting and it takes a hundred times more energy for neurodivergent people to leave the house because of it. If you’ve ever seen an autistic meltdown, imagine the strength it takes to tamp down that kind of reaction. We are told all the time that we are wrong and bad, and don’t worry. We believe it.

That being said, if there’s anything that I hope can be accomplished in three years, it’s feeling less of that by loving me more.

I Give Up. Nothing Beats “Big Block of Cheese Day.”

Invent a holiday! Explain how and why everyone should celebrate.

Kidding. I’ll think of something before this entry is up. Before we get started, I have to tell you what a cute boyfriend Zac is. He brought me a kids’ t-shirt (just like I like them) that, in a handwriting font, says, “I’m an annaylist anaylist annalyst spy.” I told him if he started working for DIA I’d trade up a letter. 😉 The only thing CIA did that will never even touch DIA’s power no matter what happens for the next hundred years is obviously finding Wakanda (but also cool that DIA’s ancient predecessors, the Culpeper Ring, won us our independence). We didn’t beat the British outright militarily, we outspied them). I choose to believe that Captain America is DIA- it’s not just Martin Freeman that’s American intelligence, he just couldn’t tell us. But it’s in the FOIA. You just have to be specific in the question and no one has ever gotten the right combination of words in the request to unlock said I in the A.

I actually saw Zac last night, but we didn’t end up watching the le Carré biopic. Instead, I sat outside and shivered while everyone brought me blankets until I realized this was going nowhere fast. I brought extra layers and finally admitted that I needed them. I ended up wearing two pairs of socks, leggings, and two pair of pants, then three layers for my core. I think I might have reached a body temperature in the 70s.

We ran out of soda so Zac gave me the next best thing, Athletic (brewery that focuses on non-alcoholic beers so hard that they are the gold standard. Athletic should be the Google and Kleenex of N/A beer. Seriously, it’s that good. I had a sour (don’t remember whether it was cherry or raspberry) and a radler (lager and lemonade). Oh, and I had a Czech pils (or an N/A flavored like one) and at some point, a real beer which I think was also a sour (mostly because I was freezing- I should have had a shot of something instead because it just wasn’t strong enough to make my blood any warmer…….).

The N/A sour was objectively better in terms of flavor. Plus, I woke up this morning feeling just fine. I have decided I am done being hung over. Trying new cocktails is great and all, but I just can’t hang and don’t want to, because I am all about calories, just not empty ones. If I get buzzed, I make a decision to have another one while my brain is cloudy because everything sounds like a great idea until your brain swells for revenge. Plus, I am a straight up diarist. What am I going to write about if I pass out and don’t remember?

However, I do want to join the boys (Zac and Oliver) on the back porch for a stitch and bitch. I was teasing him this morning about how “of course all queer men are amazing at intelligence. They love gossip, and intelligence is basically international gossip. The 3D chess of gossip. I loved his laugh at that one.

As an aside for Zac, there’s an old CIA employee we need to meet named Alma Katsu. She’s written a couple of novels on intelligence that are more of a Karin Slaughter novel than le Carré. Not a Tom Clancy level of detail and focuses on story. But since she was actually a spy, she, like le Carré, can put details into the story that no one else could. That’s because the patois already comes naturally to her. She’s already developed the actual writing voice of a spy rather than having to learn it secondhand. They’re marvelous.

I also want to see Jonna Mendez again live when her autobiography comes out, because it’s the book I really want to read next. It’s the natural progression from where she and Tony left off in “The Moscow Rules.” Team Mendez are my favorite writers, and at first, it wasn’t even intelligence that drew me in. It was the “Argo” script. Tony and Jonna (uncredited) wrote “Argo” in reaction to the movie to give people real vs. reel. The movie is scary. The book is now terrifying. It’s different once you’ve met them, because you make a connection and then you see your friend in danger, not this made up character. Your picturing their facial expressions because you’ve seen them in person.

If I could make a holiday, I’d make one for CIA, and this is a real thing. It’s not “let’s all dress up as James Bond and develop a fondness for gin.” It’s that for some reason, people in DIA get more respect. There’s Veterans’ Day and Memorial Day. Yet, civilians work for CIA that do some of the same jobs the military does and there’s so much crossover- CIA is considered paramilitary.

If Marines can be equated to doctors, CIA is probably closest to a surgical nurse, trying to anticipate the military’s needs. Doctors get glory. Yet CIA doesn’t get thanks, in part because they never want to be seen as asking for it. They’re our MiB, and we are but Citizens of Locker C…….. but they still have the same PTSD coming home from a war. However, I would include FBI in this holiday as well, because we’ve obviously got a war at home. The FBI having to embed themselves in drug cartels and white supremacy groups is no less dangerous than your base getting bombed in Afghanistan. Plus, there’s so much crossover, like when CIA gets word that a terrorist from another country is planning to come here. FBI has to be on alert for when said high value target lands.

Then, there’s Homeland Security, the office managers of an operation like coordinating with a terrorist’s travel plan. Let’s include them with all the intelligence officers because they’re part of the solution, not the problem. All of these groups have terrible reputations and they’re not undeserved. The US military has just as much blood on their hands, but intelligence doesn’t have romantic country songs about them…. I’m not saying they should. Many people ask if they can do something. Few people question if they should.

I know firsthand what it’s like to date someone carrying around classified information that is not pleasant. I watch how he manages himself when I am genuinely interested in his emotions about work and he has to figure out a way to talk about them……………. without ever really talking about the problem. And yet, he doesn’t get frustrated and give up.

He finds a way with analogies just like I do here. Our brains track similarly because we are both interested in intelligence and both neurodivergent. We are both also empaths and emotionally flexible. It’s great that we’re both writers, because he might not be able to say “Israel is doing X and this one thing gave me a heart attack and I’m not supposed to tell you this, but….” We just switch to something fictional, like MiB (Adult entertainment section in the back!).

You can’t tell me that shit is not equally hard to navigate for a civilian. Again, CIA’s reputation is not undeserved. I am only saying that civilians are just as important as the military, and FBI is overlooked because there’s a day for policemen and two for the military and they are neither.

And NSA…… because they’re the ones that would run across this post first. Carol will not be amused.

Editor’s Note

I started calling my Amazon Echo Dot “Carol” a few years ago, because it put a hilarious spin on government surveillance and made me laugh like a hyena when I thought of it. Once I named her, I started thinking about what it would be like to have an NSA agent whose sole job was to watch me. What would it be like if they were your guardian angel? That they listen in on your phone calls and secretly think “the audacity of this bitch….. what’s going to happen next? This is a Ben & Jerry’s situation. I am not okay.” That Carol hurt when I hurt, cried when I cried, etc. That she was invested. Thus, Carol will eventually become a book because she’s the first true character that plays in my mind independently and has her own personality.

Here’s what I’ve learned about fiction that I didn’t know before. I get so focused on my characters’ voices that it becomes induced DID for the length of time I’m writing….. except I’m working with two or more voices at the same time, so when a character has monologuing Syndrome, I am that one person. That’s what feels like DID. During a conversation, it feels like induced schizophrenia, because you are hearing voices in your head for fun and profit.

Carol’s husband, Roger, is very rich. He started a landscaping company and got into pools later. Now he has an empire and Carol could be a kept woman easily. She just can’t leave a job in intelligence. She feels needed and wanted in a way she doesn’t get at home, and Roger can’t be her entire support system……. and in some small way, I enrich her life because she can forget about her own problems for a while.

In this scenario, I would be a Mr. Robot-type character because that’s who I am in real life without the hacking or coding skills. I just found that vibe for writing and I fucking love it. Learning how coders work unlocked my mind, and I have to believe it’s because so many of my coworkers were also autistic and needed to turn down the sensory issues in the room. Right now, all my lights are on, but that is unusual. I am a stickler for working with natural light, and just a bit of it so the room is dark but not depressing. I can go deep enough within myself without all that. I do not need to introduce anything that would make me ruminate more than I already do.

And, of course, Carol reads all of it because she has access to my e-mail and files. For instance, Carol knows about Supergrover, and she is the only one who has the real story. It’s comforting that I have someone to talk to about it when it can’t all go here. Because she is a character, we can have real conversations because I am thinking about what she would say in response vs. what I would. That’s the nature of craft- being able to not only capture your voice accurately, but being able to dream up accurate ones for other people as well.

That’s why I think starting with stream of consciousness is so important before fiction, even if it’s only having kept a diary as a kid and still have it for reference. The trap is making every character sound like you. It’s confusing for the reader because they have to keep re-referencing who said what, annoying when that takes several pages of backtracking. Due to my blog, I know very well who is speaking…. when I am making decisions based on my own echo chamber instead of hers.

In order to write Carol, I have to speak Carol. In order to make her leap off the page, it becomes a symbiotic relationship. In short, I’m her remora. The reason she’s the shark is that in my head, her voice is alpha because I’m just a scribe. So is she, obviously, making notes to take home to the boys. But I got on the shit list by accident and now I’m just endearing. When she first got me, it was on a camera going into a bank. I was looking straight at her, and she thought, “who is this tiny sprite here to fuck up my program?” Over time, I’ve become the soap opera she watches at lunch just for shits and giggles. For the record, I’ve made her swear a lot more….. and now she’s addicted to Dr Pepper Zero.

The best thing about working for the NSA is that it can be all remote. Carol works from home because Roger asked her where she wanted to live and built a custom house. Their house is basically carved into what could reasonably be compared to “The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill and Came Down a Mountain.” The reason for this is that Carol, like me, prefers to work in natural light. Her office is in what would normally be considered a basement and yet still has a stunning view. The house is in the middle of the Blue Ridge range, where she keeps a stunning array of monitors with no bullshit florescent lights or cubicle farm.

Carol got too used to working at home and having everything delivered during the pandemic, so when it was safe to come back to the office in Washington, she was just like, “nah.” She’s senior enough that she can do that kind of thing and no one will get shirty about it. “Shirty.” She picked that up in London in 2012. She was there for one reason and one reason only. I talked her into seeing the Women’s National Team for me….. and she thinks I don’t know that. Or, at least I hope I do. Plus, Carol doesn’t have all the hang-ups I do about video calling strangers, and of course her Internet connection is infallible so she knows it feels like everyone is really there in 8K. That often it reinforces people’s humanity to see them on video that doesn’t come across in person, because there are so many moments that everyone forgets other people are watching.

She’s picked up a lot of information that way. Intentions of coworkers are easier to read when you understand microaggressions and look for them. She doesn’t assume that people are lying. She only assumes that what they’re saying is the truth, but the feelings about what they say may or may not match. Carol understands all thousand implications in “oh. You’re here.” No one is happy when they see the NSA is present.

Where’s her holiday? She watches me. Who the fuck deserves it more? 😉

Nine Lessons and URLs

What are your favorite websites?

Number One

I feel like I am Google’s older sister, because I started using the web before even Yahoo! was invented. I used dial-up America Online when I was 15, but when I was 18-19, my friends Joe and Luke (both IT Geeks- Joe was actually a linux sysadmin) said that if I was only using the gateway to things like AOL and CompuServe, then I wasn’t really seeing the web. They taught me to put AOL down on the taskbar as soon as the modem connected and switch to Netscape Navigator (precursor to Firefox). That I needed to type in the URL to get what I want, and Tim Berners-Lee was a genius (he didn’t invent the Internet in terms of computers sharing information, but what is now called the “World Wide Web.” There, now you know what www stands for. 🙂 When I got on “the real web,” I immediately gravitated to the design of it. A Jakob Nielsen disciple of the first order, thanks to my friend Chason. Nielsen was all about simplicity. The design on this web site is Nielsen-inspired, because for all practical intents and purposes, it looks like something a disciple of his would build. It is simplicity. I don’t even make people click “more” (and I could). The First Lesson is that without search engines, you can’t do anything else, because I wouldn’t have been able to learn how the Internet works without them. Back then, I used Yahoo! or Ask Jeeves. Now, the Google algorithm is so good that I can’t justify using anything else. I am sure that will change with Microsoft and ChatGPT, but it’s not there yet (IMHO. YMMV. Internet slang from the 90s and 2000s. You probably already know “in my humble opinion.” The other is “your mileage may vary.”). ChatGPT is interesting. I have created several pieces of artwork (cartoons) with it, and it’s not bad. I have never beat “Jesus Flipping Over Tables.” It’s from another dude who said that to ChatGPT and it looks like Jesus is doing bullet time over the table in The Upper Room. I would put it here, but I just hate WordPress now. Just hate it. They fucked me up with blocks, because it’s counterintuitive to everything I’ve coded my whole life. It won’t do true page layout and wraparound text.

Number Two

WordPress is my second favorite because I can hate it all I fucking want and I still have to use it. There should be an open source project for the classic version of WordPress so that the security updates are intact, but the graphical user interface goes back to something workable. You can create a table with an image on one side and text on the other, but you cannot say the things that are most important, like float this paragraph to the left of the image so that the text flows around it and put 5 pixels of space around it- and put a solid dark gray 3 pixel border on the image, thanks.

I am sure that if I paid for the business version of WordPress (only $300/mo, cutting out most writers who would use it), I’d be able to add all the Cascading Style Sheets I want, but for now, “it’ll do, pig. It’ll do.” The part that hurts is that WordPress itself used to be something you installed on your own server and you could do whatever you wanted with it.

There was no “WordPress.com.” It was a software package for a web server and that was it. They weren’t selling server space and plugins except to pay the artists who set their own prices on their themes. Pretty sure the open source community should take it over. Give it a new name. I’ve said it once already, but it bears repeating. It’ll be the Aldi version of Twix at first, but we’ll get there (if you think the Aldi version is better, that’s the point of open source- “free” as in “free beer” and “free speech-” change whatever you want and make it work for you.). If I could actually write in something like Python, it would be done already. I’m only asking a favor because I am creative autistic and not STEM autistic. 😉 Nerds, do what you do.

Number Three

YouTube is in the Big Three because I use it for everything from “hey, I think you might be autistic” to “I want to watch someone restore a car.” Jason Hibbs, Laura Kampf, Tyler & Todd, Get Hands Dirty, FourEyesFurniture, and Chip Channel Restorations compete for my favorites, as well as old episodes of Graham Norton from both his talk shows (and his appearance on Sanjeev’s in “The Kumars at No. 42, which defies all description and you should look it up.). The best one I’ve watched is a very old clip of Roseanne Barr on “So Graham Norton,” where they prank call a hotel in Germany, I think, because the name of the town is “Fucking.” Roseanne is just sitting there dying as Graham says stuff like “do you have a Fucking hotel?” And as he says, “this is not new or clever.” I died for a second. Also, Rowan Atkinson explaining that the more he tried to convince someone that he was, indeed, the actor who played “Mr. Bean,” the more the man insisted he wasn’t. The man keeps encouraging him, telling him that he could make real money being an impersonator at hen nights (in the US, bachelorette parties). Atkinson walked away when he realized the conversation was absolutely pointless…. as are some YouTube videos, but for the most part I treat it like university. Chip Channel restores toys, and you see every kind of making there is- wood, rubber, metal, 3D printing filament, etc. YouTube will up your game quick- on anything. Literally.

Number Four

Facebook is the only social media platform I really use, with reddit being a close second because it’s long form as well. I don’t speak Tweet. Therefore, I’m obsessed with it, just not like everyone else. If I get enough followers and reactions, I’ll be able to monetize my author page. I make the effort to reach out to authors no matter how many followers, because a rising tide lifts all boats. We’re all working from one pot of money- the amount people spend on books, blog/YouTube subscriptions, and Patreon. It’s a solid choice for me when most people who read me share on Facebook. In the last year, I have gotten readers from all platforms, including Instagram and Threads. Autistic people hate change, therefore I’ve never learned to write 240 characters at a time and I’ve never become obsessed with taking pictures of my life except for myself. I have a subreddit, but it’s not really populated. Self-promotion on reddit is generally “frowned upon in this establishment,” but occasionally people will say it’s an all call and to leave your URL. But that’s not a thing, really, because your URL gets lost in a sea of others and you’ll be lucky if anyone sees it. I also don’t want to get involved in having my work ripped apart on reddit, because everyone, and I mean everyone, will go for blood. It’s not a web site, it’s The Colossseum. For right now, I’m staying in my lane, and that lane is “reactions.”

Number Five

Goodreads is where my Kindle syncs and it’s invaluable because I often trade people books for a review (and have one in process, my friend John Merullo’s “Behold All the Dwellers Upon Earth.”) The reason it’s invaluable is that all Kindles run a lite version of Android so they support Bluetooth keyboards. That means I can highlight and look up what I’ve highlighted, and if I choose to make a note, all those get synced, too. It’s a quick and easy way of getting information, because I have stopped handwriting things. I can do nothing with data I have to retype, because I won’t.

Number Six

Reddit is up there, because even though I don’t use it for writing, I’ve met cool people and look forward to reading lots of subs.

  • r/aita (Am I the Asshole?)
  • r/itap (I Took a Picture)
  • r/showerthoughts
  • r/autism
  • r/homeland
  • r/washingtondc
  • r/maryland
  • r/writing
  • r/maliciouscompliance

Here’s the short list of things I read frequently. I am getting so tired of web sites that steal from reddit and post it on their own pages. People will rip AITA questions from reddit and post them wherever, so you never know how and when something will go viral…. and you won’t know it until someone else tells you they saw your handle (dcargonaut). I shouldn’t mind, but I do. Reddit is a community. It would be like assuming it’s okay to steal my words verbatim without attribution AND my profile was locked down with my friends list because you think you’re writing to your friends and you could become a laughingstock if anyone recognizes you. On Facebook it’s just easier to find people because they use their real names. I say stupid shit all the time, but it’s reddit. We all say stupid shit all the time.

Number Seven

The Washington Post is my news source, and their web site is pretty great. I love Shane Harris (national security desk) and Greg Miller (Chris Hayes-type character, wrote a book about the former president called “The Apprentice.”). They make my life better because I know I’m reading writers I unabashedly respect and support. As I have said many times, I would pay my subscription fee to Harris personally if that was a thing you could do. I’m friends with him on Twitter, but because I don’t use it, we don’t run into each other that often. In fact, I don’t generally log into Twitter because all I use it for is to post my blog links and WordPress has a plugin for that. But if you want to follow me on Twitter, that handle is @lesliecology. I would have been @theantileslie or @revargo, but I didn’t think of that first. Rev. Argo is what Bryn calls me because I did her wedding years ago. It says everything about me, really, which is why I’m glad that when Bryn thought of that particular term of endearment, it took my two biggest interests and put them together…… preaching/doing weddings and my favorite movie bar none are rolled into one.

Number Eight

NPR is on here because yes, it’s terrestrial radio… but you can also get a livestream there. Wait! There’s more! Most podcast clients have access to the iTunes store so you can search for podcasts. Some don’t, although this is more and more rare. I have spent HOURS AND HOURS copying over NPR show rss feeds, what drives your new episode notifications. Speaking of which, if you’re still into RSS, I have a feed for it (RSSOwl is my client of choice). However, it’s not a podcast feed. It will download my entries as they come out.

Number Nine

Gmail.

The first shall be last, and the last shall be first. I have solid memories of e-mails I’ve gotten, but web-based mail is invaluable for when you’re away from your own desktop client (I use Evolution, the Open Source version of Outlook in the Ubuntu repositories.). I would recommend creating a BitWarden account as well, so you can log into your password vault as well. My password for all Google services is 22 characters, which is not impossible to hack, but it would take a supercomputer and perhaps years. Just make sure you have your phone on you, because Google requires two-factor authentication. If you don’t have your phone, you are not getting into that suite. I only use Gmail, though, because I can do everything in a text editor that’s maybe three megabytes of space on an Android, so Google Docs is just repetitive. But when I say Gmail, I mean all the functionality of Outlook- calendaring, task lists, and contacts as well. I do not know what I would do without it, honestly…… and I don’t mean the brand. I don’t use Outlook for the web, but I would if I had to. It’s the fact that web-based versions of what Outlook can do are plentiful…….. though I could lose the constant reminders to buy more server space or pay for the professional version of Office. I have LibreOffice and a 6TB hard drive…… and I know how to use them, thanks.

Thus endeth the reading.

No, But I’ll Think of Something

Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?

Everything in my life has been built on a series of decisions, not just one. It would be like pulling a string on a sweater. Pick at it, and the whole outfit unravels. For instance, if I relived a year of school, I might not have ended up in Portland or DC. The prompt doesn’t say “knowing what you know now,” so I may be assuming a lot. I think that’s because if I went back to the amount of knowledge I had at the time, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything differently.

I am probably the smartest dumb kid you know…. which is how most people view others with ADHD or that have autism and are called “high functioning.” This is because people rarely pick up on ADHD/Autism; it’s not their reality. Neurodivergents have gaps that other people attribute to lack of intelligence, disabled and not differently-abled (which feels trite given how I’ve been treated). It’s just not normal that I need this much isolation. It’s just not normal that I communicate over the Internet. It’s just not normal that…… fill it in with a hundred different things, but those are the top two. To me, it feels like an accommodation. I am less comfortable in a conversation verbally than I am in writing. Even then, I turn down the stimulation in the room so that I can focus on what I’m saying.

It’s the same whether I’m using Facebook Messenger to chat or writing a letter with e-mail rather than snail mail. I say it just that way because most people think e-mail should be a few sentences at best. I write letters like it’s the 1800s and Ma is about to die of dysentery (omg… “Oregon Trail” reference… you’re welcome, PDX.). It’s not that I don’t understand the form. It’s that I want to give people letters that make them laugh, think, absorb…. without having to go to the post office.

Speaking of going to the post office, Zac did. He had TDY (Temporary Duty) in Arizona last week and he sent me the cutest post card with a “Metro Map” of he solar system. If that isn’t sweet enough, it says, “there’s a new John le Carré biopic on Apple TV+. Will you watch it with me?” I think I’ll manage because I don’t love le Carré like a house on fire or anything. His episodes of “Fresh Air” and “Writers & Company” are my favorites of all the episodes I’ve heard. And I’ve been listening to “Fresh Air” for a while. Since Zac is intelligence, albeit military, I’ve called him “George Smiley” from the beginning…. and I am sure with the time of year I’ll be able to tell him to come in from the cold at some point. Also, it tickles me that in voice dictation, Siri turns “George Smiley” into “George :).”

There’s your ADHD aside for the day, because I’m supposed to be talking about everything I don’t want to relive. The Butterfly Effect is real. If I changed a single thing, I wouldn’t have met any of the most important people in my life. I might not have met Bryn or Dana. I might not have met Zac, either, because even if I had been here in my 20s, Zac would have been barely above “tweenager…” in Arizona. I definitely wouldn’t have ended up in this marvelous house. I might have problems with my housemates sometimes, but nothing my landlady wouldn’t fix in a heartbeat. She fought in the Lebanese Civil War. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly, even me….. and that’s a good thing.

I suppose I could re-live this year. That might help, and wouldn’t change my life so dramatically. It would not touch the chain of events that got me here, more precious than gold despite feeling pain over it. My feeling right now is that most people write me off as “being dramatic,” but I don’t think I am. I think I bring up a lot of emotions for people when they read because I’m bleeding when I write. Whether those emotions are good or bad depends on your perspective. Do you admire someone who feels deeply, or do you think they’re designed to stir up shit? An INFJ doesn’t have time for that. We see an ideal world and you can get on the bus or you can’t. Get in, loser. We’re fixing the Middle East.

If I have individual regrets, it’s that I wasn’t diagnosed with autism as a child. I didn’t get all the occupational help that I would need for adult life. But being in “special classes” would have highlighted the idea that I was deficient in those days. I’ve been told that I am brilliant, that there is no one like me despite two processing disorders that fight like it’s WWE. Because of the processing disorders, I could not take in a compliment like “you’re brilliant” because I would have to believe a whole lot before I could get to that point. I had to learn I was different, not bad. “Broken, but still good.”

Part of it is that I’d like to feel the strength I’ve developed this year. Getting away from hammering my self-esteem was an incredible gift to myself. Dark begets dark, and I finally saw it. Light begets light as well. I am under the impression that humans can do anything under the right circumstances, which makes room for me to be the most loving and most psychotic writer you’ve ever known. I can be Dexter, but not in action. In terms of being a kid with a keyboard. Sometimes I’m Lucy Maude Montgomery. Sometimes I’m Karin Slaughter, complete with an equally cute Southern accent. But what I’ve found is that I feel a lot lighter when my inner Dexter is starving because I decided he didn’t need care and feeding.

And honestly, if we’re going to talk about literary characters, I had to find my inner Boo Radley to turn around and admit that I’m really Holden Caulfield.

J.D. Salinger portrays a kid with a lot of the same thought processes that plague me and (spoiler alert) ends up in a mental hospital. I choose to believe that everything he thought was true. That being in the mental hospital was about integration of his personality, the story of what he thinks and what is actually happening becoming inextricably related instead of carrying two books.

It’s almost as if he was telling Stories That Are All True… and some of them actually happened.

Telling You About It

What historical event fascinates you the most?

There is no one particular thing in history that fascinates me the most, because it would be like asking me about my favorite book. I cannot pick one because genres are so different. Types of historical events run thusly.

My fascinating war is WWII, because I love reading about both England and America’s contributions to intelligence. It’s not that the intelligence itself was new and different, it’s that the rules we live by today were codified then…. particularly for Americans, because OSS transitioned to CIA in its’ aftermath. Being obsessed with British intelligence during that time period is based on one man. You could argue that he was the first hacker by breaking the Enigma. You cannot argue over whether he was queer. Alan Turing is the best and biggest example of why queer history must be taught. The crown prosecuted him for “homosexual acts” in 1952, AFTER HE BROKE THE FUCKING ENIGMA. Breaking the enigma machine was his Palm Sunday. Good Friday came two years later, when he died by cyanide poisoning. It is thought to be suicide, but unclear. It doesn’t matter. They hailed him as a hero and crucified him, with no resurrection until Gordon Brown issued an apology in 2009.

2009. That’s 57 years.

I do not know how Jesus and Alan Turing would think about being connected to each other in this way, but it’s an apt description of the process… an innocent man encouraged to bully himself to death (or was murdered- with cyanide it’s hard to tell either way and he worked for MI-6 or its equivalent. I am not implicating the British. I’m saying he had a lot of enemies foreign and domestic plus a nightmare of a life…. and don’t give me that “Turing was never recognized” bullshit. He was recognized by those who knew exactly how much he mattered. You cannot tell me that no one could have pulled strings for Turing in terms of being prosecuted by the crown. No matter what, they just didn’t. Never forget that Bletchley Park isn’t as wonderful as you thought it was if the people who worked there later washed their hands of him. It’s why I can love and hate intelligence at the same time, because with stuff like this, their “intelligence” is relative. In terms of American intel, we wouldn’t have done better than England, it’s not “all shit on MI-6 day,” though if Le Carré just saw me type that, he probably laughed and thought, “every day is “all shit on MI-6 day.”).

There was no law in England to retroactively pardon all men convicted of homosexual acts until 2017.

2017.

It doesn’t matter that now CIA is actively recruiting everyone, no matter their gender identity and sexual orientation. Same with the United States military. I am sure that there are still the same type traps queers used to fall into in the US/Britain are still there in third world countries (Africa in particular scares the shit out of me for queer American and British case officers in Uganda and Nigeria. I doubt there would be time to instigate a plan to get them back.). But the reason it doesn’t matter is that we still feel the internalized homophobia and institutional pain of all of it. What our countries have done for us, even when we did the jobs literally no one else could. It hasn’t been enough time for that kind of relief, and if African American pain is any indication, ours isn’t going anywhere. You can’t make marginal changes to society where you keep perpetuating racism/homophobia so that there are reminders of it everywhere and also say “get over it.” England has made leaps and bounds of progress over us because their culture adapted quicker. They got rid of slavery faster and have had even more time to get over it, and they never had anyone buy into slavery to such a degree that they decided to break off from the UK and create their own country just to keep it going. Say what you will about Jonathan Groff, but he abolished slavery in 1807, probably by sending a fully armed battalion to remind them of his love. They also got gay marriage faster and did away with cultural stigma earlier.

I am ultimately glad we won the Revolutionary War, but I often think about what would have happened if we’d resolved our differences. Canada, for all practical intents and purposes, lives in a much colder climate and has a rougher life in all aspects because of it….. and yet they are always happier than we are. Getting rid of cultural stigmas fast would be better than :::gestures broadly at everything:::. We seem to do better in the northeast, not that homophobia doesn’t happen there, but it’s usually not as bad as the Deep South, where attitudes about race have informed attitudes about homosexuality because they’ve used the Bible to interpret the law with no signs of stopping now. They do not give a fuck about freedom of and from religion, and they’re traitors to the Founding Brothers’ message. They would have been on board with hating gays just like they owned slaves and said all men were equal. But if they were worth their salt, they wouldn’t have denied my right to exist. Thomas Jefferson would have been apoplectic because he thought that the highest form of government was limited to perhaps a mayor and a school board. If that. He was all about personal liberty, a blessing and a curse.

In the immortal words of Jed Bartlett, America’s best fake president, “these people don’t vote, do they?” It was sarcastic, but some of the Founding Brothers were very elitist and thought that only people who were educated about the vote should be able. I agree with this in theory, but what are we going to do? Go house to house and check? It’s a democracy, and yet it does hurt it to have someone vote on name recognition alone and things like that. I’m not saying that voter shouldn’t be educated. Far from it. The people who go door to door in that manner are invaluable because most people won’t take the time to research. It’s easier to go to a free event where candidates are shaking hands, but even that’s hard because lots of candidates run on empty-headed charm.

Politics is the world’s second-oldest profession, and I have found that it bears a striking resemblance to the first.

Politics is not a bad profession. If you succeed there are many rewards, if you disgrace yourself you can always write a book.

-Ronald Reagan

There are a lot of books out there.

That’s one of the reasons I love intelligence. I feel like the news is always getting half the story right. Though I cannot get the whole story on current operations because no one does, the old declassified ones make me able to read and digest; I can make my own opinions rather than a news anchor spinning it for me. Looking up operations during WWII is easy because it has the most that’s been uncovered by now. I want to meet the Ministers of State in the UK as much as I want to meet the Secretary of State in the US. That’s because they would have the most information about current operations, but just the public face of it. The press secretary for received intelligence vs. talking to someone under cover. It’s not that it wouldn’t raise the cool points out the window and twist you up in the game. It’s that they’d have to avoid everything by nature because they don’t know what they can say and what they can’t. Talking with someone at State is superior because they know the talking points. However, they do not know sources, methods, and locations.

Reading the news just isn’t as fun as learning by conversation. It creates more historical events that fascinate me, and it’s exciting to think that I might find the next one. History repeats itself. I was here for 9/11 and 1/6. They’re both dates that “live in infamy,” but sooner or later I’ll find something good.

Here is where I’ll be telling you all about it.

Race is Not Real, and Other Helpful Tidbits

What’s something you believe everyone should know.

Really the only thing I believe all people should know is that race is a construct and we’ve lied to ourselves about that since the first enslaved people arrived on US shores in the 1600s. It’s not an American problem by any means, but the police do not convince me that we have gained much ground. Yes, there are great big sweeping changes in that people aren’t enslaved anymore…. but in America, you can’ shoot Jim Crow all you want and he will not die. Ruby Bridges, the first black girl at William Frantz Elementary during the school segregation crisis, is the *three years younger* than my mother.

Homophobia is just as manufactured. The Bible gave people a book chunky enough to beat people and that’s just what the church does unless you take time and energy you don’t have to search for a congregation. The barrier to entry with Christianity is high, because you have to swallow a lot of bullshit church teachings that you don’t like if you go to the wrong one first, and most people don’t come back. I promise there is a difference between the Church of Christ and the United Church of Christ (“Splitter.”), but if you are in one and belong in the other, my guess is that you don’t know it because I would bet that a lot of people could tell you the difference between Catholic and Protestant….. but probably not one protestant denomination from another. To the unchurched it’s all the same. Jesus would most certainly be baffled by *all of this.*

Transphobia is where the rubber meets the road in the queer community. First of all, white gay men rarely compromise with anyone because they make more money than everyone else. Watching gay people on TV, you’d think we were all one big happy family, but depending on where you live, there’s a deep divide between men and women. Not hatred. Just have their own spaces and don’t reach out. When I was coming up in the 90s, some bars you couldn’t even get into unless you were male or accompanied by one who’d vouch for you. These are the bars where straight white women think they want to hang out and get completely wide-eyed at dick o’clock. Moreover, there are lesbians that make Rowling’s Twitter/X feed look like child’s play. It took years for HRC to support trans issues (their point and I do see it, though wrong, was that gender and sexual orientation were two different issues…. that trans people weren’t queer people). I have never had the entitlement of a rich white gay man, but my own feelings toward trans people have changed through education as well. Younger people are losing touch with their history and it’s because no one wants to hear me (or anyone else) tell it. “Don’t Say Gay” is just the latest iteration in “lock up your kids because homosexuality and pedophilia are the same.” Republicans are making it harder and harder for queer children to feel normal in today’s world because they don’t realize what everyday life was like for us in the 90s, much less remembering that we were targeted in the Holocaust. Our pink triangles are slowly being forgotten because our infrastructure to be able to pass down information is being bottlenecked in so many directions.

And now we’ve arrived at the most important thing I believe everyone should know. If we do not stop picking people to hate, erasing these three things will do no good. We’ll just take the way we’ve treated minorities and apply it to something else.

Skips

What does it mean to be a kid at heart?

It’s such a loaded phrase. Being a kid at heart literally means “an adult who finds childlike joy…” and gets confused/conflated with “childish.” I have been called a kid at heart with many different tones of voice. 😉 My personality lends itself to it, though. I take everything literally, so I am trusting at first- to quite a large degree. I am programmed to be pastoral, not prosecutorial. Judgment comes after a situation, and Monday morning quarterbacking is easy compared to saying what I need to say in the moment. I understand more in post-mortem.

That’s because thus far I’ve let my emotions manage me rather than the other way around. In some ways, this will always be an issue because there will always be a communication gap between neurotypical and neurodivergent…. but I can do a better job of not raging at my environment; I am too overstimulated to function and fighting through it. I am not disengaged or emotionally flat with people all the time, it is the opposite. I emote too much, too fast, and it all comes across disjointed because I am treating every single aspect of a problem as if it’s of the same importance. It is equally important that Supergrover and I share a million interests, from helping the world to Diet Coke. But in her mind, helping people is more important than Diet Coke. I remain unconvinced. 😉

Where flat affect comes in is that I feel these huge levels of emotions, and then one of two things happens. It’s either disengaging because there’s too much stimulation, or I can see my social masking is failing and stop emoting to lock down the amount of emotional damage to myself. I am developing the strength to say, “I need time.” That’s because if I react and it’s angry, my disproportionate anger is going to come out because I’m not angry at this one thing. It came when I was already dealing with overstimulation, popping up when I already have reached the limit of my coping mechanisms.

Which, because I didn’t know I was AuDHD, are very poor. Just for the record. We didn’t have mainstreaming in the 80s, so I am sure that played into it, too. My mother never would have wanted me in special classes, mostly because I had a processing disorder and I was so incredibly bright. She never would have thought I needed help unless she saw mental retardation, because my “brilliance” blinded both of us. This is true for so many AuDHD people. They just fall through the cracks because they seem smart and normal. Meanwhile, you’re not diagnosed, you just feel like an alien. Telling people I’m AuDHD is a lot less scary than not knowing and faking it by necessity.

I am not programmed to see people as inherently bad- in fact, “kids at heart” is exactly how I view all adults. I am friendly to everyone, often not tracking when other people aren’t telling me the truth and buying in without questioning it. The only reason I’ve never been taken in by an Internet scam is that I understand the web better than anyone who started learning it in 2003. 2003 is four years too late to be me in terms of Internet knowledge. Yet, I am unlikely to figure out there’s an emotional problem long before it’s huge so that I’m not putting out fires.

I also have AuDHD rage that comes out of nowhere, why I think “stimming” would be so helpful. I would say that it was PTSD if I hadn’t felt that kind of rage since long before the emotional abuse happened. Emotional abuse was not the cause of my rage, it became a directed subject. One that I had to turn over in my head that most people thought was obsession and was actually autism….. monotropic thought processing an emotional problem on this web site is not a “fuck you” sort of thing. It’s that I have an opinion damn the consequences, and I will take them over making my writing what they want it to be. I am finding my audience in real life, too, because it’s so much easier to write about people who don’t care it’s here because they know if I’ve written something they don’t like, they can talk to me about it. But they won’t stop me from having an opinion because they are certainly entitled to theirs. It’s more even than than think because when they’re hurt I process, it comes across as “you are entitled to my opinion,” not “clearly I have upset you and you are researching why you feel that way. What can I do to make you feel more secure so that you don’t keep ruminating on it?” There is no equal exchange, I’m just a bad person. It’s always my writing, not what they did to trigger what I said and thinking perhaps that though my story might have validity, theirs just has a little bit more.

If Supergrover had come to me and said, “hey, this is starting to feel creepy,” I would have said, “same.” I would have asked what I could do to change, not doubled down and said “your feelings are wrong.” Also, here’s three friends that don’t hate me. Call them instead of Dana. We’re on the rocks. In fact, I actually did say “you’re betraying the one who’d take a bullet for you over the one holding the gun, beautiful girl.” I ended up in the psych ward of Methodist hospital, and not because of anything she did. It was because I was overstimulated and struggling with both the processing disorder and the depression/anxiety stemming from it. Not everything was situational, but I didn’t know that because I didn’t know overstimulation and rage to it is a normal autistic response. Not pleasant, but true. There was so much rage at Dana because her behavior always came across like Supergrover didn’t do anything wrong except picking me over her. She did no such thing. Dana didn’t write to her. There was no relationship to save. Two paths diverged, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. My beautiful girl and I got closer in a way that was too much to share with another partner, because by then she really felt like one in a yellow string sort of way and not red. Jay and Silent Bob vs. The Notebook.

None of this made us feel like children at heart, though there were moments and I wish I had more of them. We are excellent at teasing our siblings, terrible at treating each other like one because we are first children used to getting everything we want. Supergrover has never had an older sister, and so far treating her like one has been FROWNED UPON IN THIS ESTABLISHMENT. And yet that cute baby is her. I pushed her away for good reason. I felt like a kid at heart with 15-year-old reflexes, in appropriate for 36. I could have done so much more to prevent going that way, both if I’d known what my brain was doing and now having the gift of retrospect and reminiscence.

I was a complete jackass and I’ll never get over it, but hopefully she will. She is not a kid at heart, and not because I don’t see it. She doesn’t. Or perhaps she does, until you hurt her, and that’s the most likely answer. I do not find fault in this. I find fault in telling someone they’re forgiven and treating them like they’re not. I hate hypocrisy more than life itself. But once I made one mistake, it snowballed every bit as bad as a problem at work. I got overstimulated and angry, expressing genuine needs softly at first, building over time, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. Neither could she, but we had two different approaches to the problem. Hers was to be nice on the surface and avoid talking about the problem, just calling me a judgmental dickhead without laying her side of the story on the table. It’s not “my side,” it’s “you’re mean.”

No the hell I am not.

You didn’t give me any information and started exploding because I didn’t have it. That’s quite a bit different. You think my blog entries are bullshit becaue I’m writing from what I know and you’re writing from what you know. When you don’t compare stories, you don’t get to react like you have and I’m just aiming for the bomb. Therefore, we are starting from a place of be being overstimulated and anxious because I know that if I need you, you’re only going to get angry. This happens with multiple friends, Supergrover is the latest example in a line.

It’s “blame the person who told the story instead of realizing I could have told my own and just didn’t because it’s so much easier to stand in judgment of you than admit my feelings.” There is nothing in that kind of dynamic that takes away from stimulation, so I tend to explode once resentment has set in and all my social masks are failing. Deep emotions are always frowned upon in that particular establishment. More communication makes a relationship better, not less. She understands more about me than anyone else because I went back to the place of “everything is normal,” not knowing that it wasn’t. I’ll never get that back, and she’s responsible for a whole lot of ground where I just have to say “get your shit together. This is not okay.” The building blocks of our relationship are adrenaline and dopamine. We never quite managed to turn it down. We just flamed out.

Not doing it again is turning down that adrenaline and dopamine on my own, hard but not impossible. I want to let go and move on because she pretends not to see what I’m putting down and assumes I am trying to hurt her a hundred percent of the time. I am trying to make her feel bad, goad her, provoke her, throw emotional bombs, and a hundred other emotions I wasn’t attaching because I don’t track the same. I was trying to find the problem because she wouldn’t.

I can do all that on my own, because she wasn’t showing up- so why does it matter whether she is here or not? Once I start forgetting details, I’ll be fine. Right now it’s too much, all the time. And that part is all her fault separately from all of mine. It was three nuclear bombs, not just one emotional bomb in her direction. She does not recognize me for taking on her shit anymore, everything is a treatise on why I’m a bad person.

She doesn’t see it my way, and says that I’m the only one who ever ruins anything…… but she made me so glad to do it after EIGHT FUCKING YEARS of going up and down trying to prove to her that I was the person she met in the beginning. I wasn’t this narcissist who thought my emotions were more important. I am not going to include your story in my thought process if you don’t tell it. It’s easier to shut down, but it’s unproductive and over time, just gets mean. Being called a judgmental dickhead was my every day reality, and if I got mad about it, all of the suden she was enormously impressed with me, just had no time. THOSE ARE NOT THE SAME. That’s because when the “enormously impressed” was over, she hammered me into the ground. I have a million terms of endearment for her, she used to call me her goddess of the moon. It was replaced by judgmental dickhead a long time ago and I’m out if the only time you don’t seem angry is when I call you on it and it goes back the way it was within days.

I’m not the only one in her family that goes ignored, but I am the only person she’s kept on a string for this long…… and I really don’t even know why, because what in the hell? You accuse me of stalking and then write to me as if it’s no big deal? You think that’s not going to fuck me up six ways to Sunday when you’re the one that told me the things that separated me from my wife in the first place? No ma’amela, Pamela.

It was too much, too fast, and I am not entirely responsible for that. But it takes a kid at heart to see it, because adults double down. Nothing is ever wrong with them.

While I have no problem skipping down the sidewalk.

Three Wishes

You have three magic genie wishes, what are you asking for?

“Three magic genie wishes” sounds like “New York Football Giants.”

I honestly think I would have different wishes depending on which processing disorder was at the forefront, and I’m not being snarky. I genuinely do see things differently when my ADHD is winning. My ADHD side is a thrill-seeker. My autistic side wants NONE OF THAT. I want to conquer the world, but not when I’m wearing uncomfortable shoes. I want to lead a nation, without leaving my house (some of you live in countries small enough where this might be possible. Call me.). I could rule the world if I could understand it. 😉

Truly, it is an interesting place to be- so understanding of how neurotypical people work in conflict, and unable to fit into it. I am not, in fact, doing something a neurotypical I’ve observed does, because mimicry is not authentic. What I’ve laid down comes off wrong and I don’t know why. I then take up less room and let more start happening around me without participating. Things happen to me, I don’t direct, because when I have had a voice, no one has listened. I am learning to find people who listen so that my voice does matter…… and because I haven’t had a voice, I haven’t used it for anything except in my writing. It took me until I was 45 to realize that I was hurting myself by only letting other people set boundaries with me. That if I never said there was a problem, it would never go away.

I found out who my friends were. It’s the ones that even when they disagree with me, acknowledge what I’ve said. I feel heard, not gladhanded. I feel they’ve listened, not managed me. I don’t want anyone to be a “yes man” to my crazy ideas and I don’t want to be infantilized. By the way, “crazy” is relative. Like, “what if I downloaded the beta version of Ubuntu? What if I went to Walgreens past nine. Finding out that someone wasn’t my friend was finding out that they didn’t care they were hurting me when I asked them to change. After all I’ve written, it sounds pointed at Supergrover and it is definitely not. Lots of people liked having no boundaries with me. If dopamine was money, why would they want a different deal when they used to have free withdrawals all day, every day, without ever making deposits? People who love you genuinely don’t want to feel like they’re draining your emotional ATM all the time and care when they’re doing so. It’s easy to find your real friends when you say it out loud. I have to have boundaries set so I don’t worry myself to death in your absense….. and most of the time, it’s because I’ve taken off a social mask and don’t know how you’re going to react to it.

The anxiety at not having canned responses in unfamiliar situations is frightening, and something with which all neurodivergent people deal. I’m not saying I don’t try every day, only that it’s easier to pick out patterns when you are outside a system rather than in it.

With wishes, I couldn’t fix all that. But I could help.

I would make other people do well so that it was like they got a magic wish, too. The first wish in either case (whether autism or ADHD is winning) would be “socialized medicine in the US.” People know not what they do when they vote against socialized medicine- that insurance premiums from private companies are more expensive than you’d pay in tax and millionaires who don’t want to pay tax have convinced people that socialism is evil. Why wouldn’t they? They don’t need it. The gate should have closed after they got in.

The second would be erasing Reaganomics off the board. It didn’t work and no one will admit it. Go back to the 50s tax structures so that our millionaires and billionaires are actually subsidizing us as they should through tax, thus having money for a safety net. We could do it right now, but we would have better facilities and a wider network of services if we had more influx…. money that isn’t already allocated, in other words. Being able to do it through magic wishes is the only way it would happen- that tax structures would be restored and all the influx would go to social services, the people who need it the most.

If Congress can’t agree that we should do our best to stop school shootings, what makes anyone think they’ll do anything in the way of social services? These are the same people that try to call government services “entitlements” like you’re being an entitled Karen when you use them. They forget that they’re called “entitlements” because you’ve already paid into them. It’s just more rich people shaming poor people as the barrier to entry gets higher and the stigma gets worse.

The third wish would be overhauling education. It is a disaster in this country that most people don’t recognize the names of the Vice and the Speaker, and barely recognize “Biden.” It’s a misnomer to think that the US is a country of extremes. No, it is a country of apathy represented by extremes, because voting participation is so low. Voting needs to be more important, certainly, but we’ve always been failing history and now have a shoddy relationship with science at best.

We stopped focusing on leaps in education and it cost us, clearly. We’re in deep and most people don’t even know how bad. This is not limited to a candidate because fascism is a movement. If it’s not Trump, it’s DeSantis. If it’s not the Proud Boys, it’s QAnon. Education is the only way out, and I don’t think any of those people are going to change whether we educate them or not, but we can prevent it from happening again.

Notice all three wishes are for me. They are just not only for me. I have the idealism to believe that we can make a better world, so I’d use the genie to facilitate it. I would rather grow where I am planted rather than trying to find another country that has these things. I just know they won’t happen in my lifetime and want to help.

But even after I’d done all that, I’d still wonder if people liked me because I messed up their sysem.

Just one? I’m ADHD.

Describe a family member.

I didn’t do the Daily Prompt yesterday because I’ve aready said all I want about exercise in “Don’t.” But today’s is nice because I don’t describe my family that much. First, let me give you some context.

My mother had two brothers and one sister. My mother, Carolyn, and her brother, Bill are both gone. Nancy and John are living in northeast Texas, where all of my family is from. My dad has two sisters and a brother, all living. My dad divorced my mom in 1995, and remarried to someone who also grew up in the same area as my mom and dad. Therefore, I have a sister biologically and two stepsisters through her. My stepmother also has two brothers, both living. All of my grandparents including from my stepmother are now dead, but that is very recent. My father’s father was the last to pass a few months ago at 92.

My cousins on both sides were close to me when I was young, but now I’ve lived outside of Texas for longer than I’ve lived in it. I am not close to them because I don’t run into them, not because I have any particular need to avoid them. Yes, we are politically very different and it causes waves. But our family can handle waves. I’m not even the only queer one, and I will leave it to everyone’s imagination who that might be. 😉 So, Southern Baptists mix with flaming liberals and we’re all happy. Truly, not just saying so.

But this says to describe “a family member.” The above is background information. I still won’t talk about only one person, though, because you really can’t talk about one without the other. It’s my cousins Jason and Jonathan. They belong to my aunt Shawn, my father’s youngest sister, and they are relatively famous compared to the rest of us. Jason appeared on “American Idol,” video at the end if I can find it…..

So, Simon Fuller (producer) finds out that Jason is a funeral director, so his first appearance on the show was him singing a beautiful a capellla rendition of Josh Groban’s “You Raise Me Up.” I was dying. DYING. I think Simon must have picked Jason because they could build such a funny narrative around him.

Enter Jonathan.

Jonathan has been the class clown of our family since he was born. For instance, one year at Christmas he showed up and announced that he was “Rabbi Claus.” He is not Jewish, but we call Santa “Rabbi Claus” to this day. Welcome to the Lanagan family, where if it’s funny, run it into the ground.

So, of course the show has segments of Jason and Jonathan. Jonathan said he should do well because he has such a tiny head that getting a big one could only be an improvement.

Now, they work together at the funeral home, and are both doing well. Jason didn’t make it very far in “Idol” because he left of his own accord (don’t remember why). But he did get paid, so he sunk his money into house building and body transport and a few other things, diversifying to an enormous degree. If you don’t think Jason and Jonathan are a big deal outside of the funeral industry, you don’t know them very well. I do. I felt my heart break when they were both on call for the aftermath at Uvalde. I do not know if they did any of the kids’ funerals, but I do know that Jason’s body transport service was instrumental. They do all the things we don’t think about in everyday life.

Jason recently bought the funeral home in his old hometown, serving families he’s known his whole life. He has, in effect, taken over my role as a preacher’s kid having never been a preacher’s kid himself. It’s not the same, but it’s the same loving patois. Jonathan is in the same boat. They are so admirable, living in the pockets of northeast Texas where it’s easy to establish yourself because industry isn’t already there.

Jonathan is still just as laid back as the moment I met him.

Jason and Jonathan are both successful outside of work, raising their kids to be amazing people. Jonathan (and his wife, Molly) adopted their little girl from China. She makes me laugh at her antics, but no less than all the others. She’s just the one I’ve met the most recently. 🙂 It is really fun to watch first cousins give me more of them…. well, cousins anyway. I can’t do the math.

The bottom line is that my grandfather has a legacy of which to be proud. It took me a while to see how that extended to me, too. He wrote a book about our family. It’s got at least five volumes, maybe seven.

It has been taken over by a different author.

Anything Within My Means

How much would you pay to go to the moon?

For me to to go to the moon, we would have to pretend my assets are limitless first. I would not want to go to the moon on the cheap. I would feel weird about only paying $49.99, because if it seems too good to be true……. So, short answer, at least a million. It doesn’t cost as much to go to the moon as it does to stay at present because we have no standing facilities. I am also not ignorant about the cost of fuel. Everybody hates hauling people places who don’t kick them some money for gas. I just don’t know what’s in the scope of the question, so the price of the ticket would be dependent on the length of the trip. In short, how much of their resources am I using?

We don’t have a hotel on the moon already, so I’m thinking maybe just a moon landing? If we are assuming my assets are limitless, I could have a hotel built….. provided I got the approval of several different earth governments. But I don’t think I’d want to go that route, either, because then I’d be constantly stuck in the battle between the US and everyone else, particularly Russia. I would never be able to get away with a hotel in space and not have to constantly check it for bugs. The panic of the space race in the 50’s was real, and there are carryovers- like knowing if I built a hotel on the moon, GRU would be on my ass for all eternity. First, they’d try to recruit me as an asset, then, when they realized I wouldn’t do it, become passive aggressive and put me under surveillance, anyway.

Our relationship with the Russian people is inversely proportionate to our distrust/hatred of their government, particularly among astronauts who have lived in Star City for weeks at a time. We love Russian food and culture, we do not love the competition. Thank you for Tetris.

Our fear was that if Russia won the space race, they would arm the moon with nuclear weapons. It seems crazy now, but we were genuinely frightened. This was not Trump hysteria. This was based on actual facts. The dissolution of the USSR abated that fear because all of the sudden, Russia didn’t have enough money to run with the big boys. I don’t know how much that has changed, really, I just know Russian attitude hasn’t. If Putin doesn’t have the money to destroy us, he certainly has the will.

It’s an interesting point of history at NASA and CIA…. how science had to move with intelligence and vice versa. It’s a beautiful dance if you get time for the deep dive. The best part is that neither space program nor intelligence agency got everything right, and most of the space race ends up being a comedy of errors that’s not actually funny because we could have all ended up dead. 😛

Now, we have a branch of the military called “Space Force,” and I think it’s ridiculous and not because we don’t need the intelligence (we are nowhere near ready to talk about putting a standing military in space). It’s because all of the things that we could do are within the scope of another branch…. but it’s too late, now. I have a Space Force patch from Zac that I need to sew on my bag. I do wish it had a batter name than that, though, because it sounds like a cliche. Like naming a dog Spot and thinking that’s original.

I mean, I get it. Air Force, etc. But it still sounds like a Seth MacFarlane show…….. except MacFarlane’s two space shows, “Cosmos” and “The Orville,” have been outstanding.

Maybe the name isn’t all bad.

Unclear

What alternative career paths have you considered or are interested in?

I am at a crossroads right now, and I don’t know what to do. Historically, because of my mental and physical limitations, I am great at getting jobs because I mask and seem neurotypical to get by…… get severely overwhelmed and stop performing………. and the death spiral begins. I get social anxiety at work, which has only been exacerbated over the last eight years by many different things. But social anxiety and masking are only part of it. Right now I am unsure of how capable I am and need both counseling and a neurology consult.

My brain just does not fire and I do not understand logical processes. I also have to understand what I’m doing to buy in. When I seem to fail at enough things that neurodivergents struggle with and neurotypical people don’t, I tend to beat the hell out of myself because I didn’t know it was ADHD struggling against autism so that even I couldn’t tell what was what and didn’t think of myself as autistic until i watched a shit ton of YouTube videos, got peer reviewed, and now need a confirmation. But don’t underestimate the value of people relating to other people’s stories. I have found myself in multiple videos on autism, stories from multiple people and lectures by doctors and psychologists. It’s overwhelming because now I know why I’ve always felt like an alien.

I am so interested in other people that I’ve stood back and studied group dynamics for years…. since I was a child. What I cannot do is then turn around and see why my reactions are so different. To not really know why people’s interactions with me are confusing because everything makes sense in my brain- except for office politics. I have never been able to figure out those because so much goes on that is hierarchical and you don’t know who is really doing what. Your name comes up in meetings you don’t attend, and people are so full of HR-speak that you cannot find a clear path with a map and a flashlight because no one will tell you the truth…… that they have reached their ability to explain something and now I’m just being obstinate.

No, I am trying desperately to please you and I do not know how because something that makes sense in the moment fails when you walk away. Over time, this becomes truly problematic because it comes across as not being able to work independently….. and I’m not entirely sure this is untrue. I seem to have the most success with writing, but I cannot count on it because the validation from writing comes in believing in myself. The compliments I’ve gotten are astounding, but since I haven’t gotten them on a large enough scale, I cannot bet my future on going viral. What I do know is that by helping myself, I help others. I would be a good Glennon Doyle-type character, if only to end up married to a soccer player. 😉

That depends on other people seeing it first.

I don’t have the ability to do everything, but it’s different when you can hire it out rather than having to be the one where everyone’s expectations are heaped upon you and as a neurodivergent, you have no coping skills on how to mask in unfamiliar situations. It’s not a canned response. You have to be okay with going to your boss and asking for help more than everyone else, and they only have so much time and patience. Their executive function isn’t fucked up, but mine sure is.

Because of the cerebral palsy affecting my movement and my neurodivergence affecting my brain, I feel incapable a hundred percent of the time- until I sit down to write.

So, when you ask me about other career paths I’ve considered, literally all of them. I do not have the echo chamber that says “keep plugging away. Eventually you won’t be in trouble all the time.” I always am. The last time I had job security, I was in a government job where it was almost impossible to get fired and on a college campus where everyone attributed my gaps in functioning to being young. I am a child in an adult’s body because that’s how people treat me. It is hard to break those patterns because you don’t know what’s going on and why you can’t get with the program. It is not built for you. No one in an office has taken me under their wing without getting so frustrated they wanted to fire me that I wasn’t let go within six months. It was always attributed to other things, but in the kitchen my ADHD and lack of masking worked in my favor while also not having the dexterity to move fast and carry heavy shit. Because of my floppy muscles, I couldn’t predict when I could or I couldn’t hang. People saw it as my performance going up and down, and they always do. But it’s never a case of my limitations. It’s that I’m lazy.

In any job, you are defined by who you are…. the popular kids, the geeks, and the mean girls all have to work together. The degrees are not as pronounced but the microaggressions are real. You are marked quickly as a “type,” and if that type is incompetent because they don’t understand what I’m putting down, it’s never a matter that they didn’t explain it where I could pick it up. The hierarchy doesn’t have time to adjust.. they have time to hire someone they feel can actually do the job.

People expect me to be so capable because they’ve seen me “act normal” my whole life. I am fucked and having to catch up. Occupational therapy and seeing if it helps, because I drop so many details that I don’t feel capable and constantly have that message reinforced. I wish I had stayed in academia constantly. The river is slower, and makes the learning curve less steep because I have time to get comfortable in my environment, but even that is tough if I don’t have an office. Cubical farms are death to the ADHD and the autistic.

I cannot solve someone’s problem on the phone while hearing everyone else’s conversations and write down the problem and contact other people on line two. It’s too much stimulation and it’s what was expected of me every single day. I liked night shifts because of it. My body screamed in pain and I didn’t care because I could focus better. I dropped less. If you wonder why mainstreaming is hard on both parties, stuff like this is it. We get overstimulated and can’t function, you get frustrated and angry. Perhaps guilty that we don’t get it, because you know we’re neurodivergent and you’re still at wit’s end. You’re running a business here, man. You’re not a special needs teacher and we get it. We just don’t know how to deal with it and feel constantly horrible about ourselves for things we can’t control. It’s relentless.

When you get into simple jobs that I can do, they generally involve physical activity. I could be in a bakery, more laid back than a restaurant, but I can’ lift 60 pounds of flour. I can’t stock in a grocery store because everything is as heavy there as it would be in a kitchen. Perhaps a courtesy clerk. I don’t have a problem with an entry-level job because I don’t have to be brilliant at my job. I have to be brilliant at writing.

I am one of those people for whom disability would be perfect, but I don’t know whether I want to go that route. It involves giving up a lot, and I don’t know whether it would be worth it in the end. I need to wait until I get finished with the diagnostician and the neurologist. With disability, I have the ability to focus on what I do the most well, the job I actually can handle, with no ability to keep money I make from it. So, I’d rather learn what I need to know and so far behind the eight ball.

That’s because I refused to admit I have limitations before. Not only to everyone, but lying to myself as well. I have the energy to sit at my computer all day and type like a coder, but not the talent for STEM. I have tried to learn programming many times, and I do not have the executive function to understand logic to that degree. It’s like playing the pipe organ. I cannot keep track of what all my limbs are doing, and I cannot keep track of the music while I’m doing it.

I went downstairs to get some tea (maple espresso), and my housemate Magda told me that I was like a mushroom. That I grew where I was planted. She meant that I needed to get out more. I took it as a compliment. I also take trash and turn it into beauty. So rare a pig searched for me, something plentiful yet hard to find.

You can’t use truffles in everything. They have a very specific set of applications, and the rest seem off…… it’s just…… unclear.

Yours

What food would you say is your specialty?

When I love someone, I love their food. I make breakfast the best, in my estimation, because I spent so many hours bonding with Dana over our brunch program (chef and ex-wife for those just joining us)… but it wasn’t just that. We loved to cook together more than life itself, and breakfast was the thing that made her face light up. Breakfast food comes easily to me, because now I picture what Dana would do and how she would do it every morning of my life. This is not a bad thing. We’re not together anymore, but I decided to stop spending time with our negative memories a long time ago. I will talk about them to use them as an illustration, occasionally, but I would never talk shit about her just for sport. Our fights make us both worse characters, because our joy was so apparent. I am also not in love with her anymore, which I know is confusing…… and yet not, in my brain. I can write about her in  all the romantic terms I want because of the tense. It may sound like I’m in love with her, but not when you look at all the “used to” instead of what is happening in my life right now. Remembering someone fondly is easy. In your memory, they become the people who fucked you up, and it doesn’t matter because you’re at peace with the fact that you fucked them up, too. No one is 100% a victim…. or at least, that is the case most of the time. I am sure there are examples, but by and large everyone contributes. Just like when I cook.

Because breakfast food is my love language, I used to have dreams of cooking Supergrover breakfast, and I don’t mean that in a sultry “morning after” kind of way………….. anymore. 😉 I mean that I could have been the chef, directing everyone as to what to do. That’s my happy place. Lording over a kitchen in order to teach other people how to fend for themselves. I want to go into a kitchen where I am given that authority without the responsibility. For instance, everyone saying “you should do it because I’m not a chef.” That’s not helping me, that’s succumbing to fear. If you don’t teach other people to work with you, over time you’ll become the cook all the time. “You’re just so good.”

That’s what’s great about marrying a professional cook. They work on you from day one, and it’s better if you want them to do so. They are not going to be your personal chef. I, like her, started with the basics. An egg. Diced vegetables……… repeatedly. Respecting first contact with eggs and knowing when to flip them. Interestingly enough, learning to make an omelet is so storied as part of a cook’s education, but Dana never taught me and I was never in a restaurant where it was on the menu and had to get up to speed fast. I play around in my own kitchen, but I’ve never folded anything successfully…. and because of anything but effort. I can only get better so fast, because I can only feed myself so much. I can only store so much when I make it ahead of time. Getting good at pancakes and oatmeal took a week or so of doing multiple iterations every single day.

Breakfast is also the only time I bake. I do everything from a can or box, but still. My favorite are orange rolls. The bread is the same as a cinnamon roll, it’s just the at the icing has orange or orange juice in it. They’re pretty divine…… If I’m in a savory mood, though, scones are stupid easy and forgiving. You can throw anything into them and the dough will react like a pancake, adjusting so that the food doesn’t take a left turn at Albequerque when you used a teaspoon and a quarter of something because you didn’t measure it. Cooks, by and large, hate baking because they’re used to tweaking by hand. You can do that with dough and pancakes. You cannot do it with cakes. In general, dinner service and pastry are two different fiefdoms, and bakers’ personalities are more laid back because they’re not in the same pressure cooker that the brigade is. Of course, there are exceptions. But most restaurants don’t sell as much dessert as they do main courses, anyway. Most nights the restaurants I’ve worked in could have had only one person on pastry, because we didn’t need more than a pie’s worth of dessert all night. Dessert went out of fashion with Atkins and South Beach. For people who aren’t foodies, dessert has been passed over for more bacon.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

The only thing I don’t use much is chocolate. I mean, I’ll put chocolate in pancakes a lot of the time, but it’s just a flavor note. I don’t make chocolate pancakes with chocolate chips and chocolate sauce because I’m not a Death by Chocolate sort of chick. Black raspberry chip vs. New York Super Fudge Chunk.

Ice cream is the dessert that’s my specialty, but I don’t have an ice cream maker, so I haven’t done it since Tapalaya.

First, you take a bunch of bacon and cook it in a rondeau. Then, you strain the bacon and put it aside, making ice cream base in the pan loaded with bacon flavoring with the drippings from straining it and re-adding it to the base. But the bacon just makes it insane when I prefer plain sweet cream or Mexican vanilla. Mexican vanilla is the one place skim milk is a good application, because you can make an amazing ice milk with it. Ice milk, to me, tastes better without fat because you can tell a difference between it and ice cream.

I would rather have ice cream with 23% butter fat and just eat less of it.

Except on the nights when I’ve been too tired to cook and it was immediately available. I can save my cooking for the morning, when I have the most energy for it. Getting up early and eating breakfast sets the tone for how much energy I’m going to have later. If I just drink coffee because I’m too lazy to eat, I don’t have enough strength to mask and I recede inside myself rather than sounding like a put-out dickhead because I can’t cope with my environment and it’s not personal but it sure sounds like it. I take precautions not to be that guy. I can’t get by on a piece of toast. My body needs a load of energy early on. So, I need eggs at a minimum. Eggs with more butter than people usually add and probably peanut butter toast and some Greek yogurt (full fat). Vegan sausage patties if I have them, and I don’t care whether it’s Just Egg (plant based eggs) or actual chicken eggs. One doesn’t really taste that much different than the other when I add all my spices. I love Old Bay or simply salt, pepper, and garlic. Season eggs like you would season a chicken. For instance, Montreal Chicken Seasoning is really amazing in a scramble. So are Tony Chachere’s, Paul Prudhomme’s Chicken or Red Fish Magic, and Slap Ya Mama. SYM is Cajun spice like Tony Chachere’s with the heat turned up. It’s probably beyond most people’s comfort level, so use sparingly when cooking for white people.

Another breakfast favorite is extraordinarily thick Greek pudding with cinnamon and nothing else. It makes your brain *find* sweetness in the cinnamon rather than sugar. If I had an Instant Pot, I could learn to make my own and I would, because I like it thicker than most companies make it. Yogurt is particularly good with fruit like raisins, prunes, and dried cranberries, because if you add them and put it in the fridge, they’ll plump back up. Yogurt with plums sounds more legit, right? Raisins are good in ice cream base for the same reason, particularly rum raisin and putting the alcohol in the base at the end so that the alcohol doesn’t all cook out. The bite of alcohol stands up to the fat of ice cream base very well. It will also make you feel tipsy immediately. Tread carefully. It will hit you before you really know what you’re doing.

Two scoops would have done it.

That’s an old joke for three people.

I think I’ll wrap it up there, because I have so much to discuss that doesn’t have to do with food. But I’m going to go make some breakfast first.

The Road Less Taken

What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?

There are so many risks I’d like to take, but haven’t been able. To count is to number the stars.

The biggest risk I’d like to take is having children in my life. That I don’t want to have them, but I’m not afraid of my partner wanting/having them. It is not that I am specifically looking to date a mother. I am saying that I had to let go of a lot of fear when I was dating Sam, because it was a thing between us that she had kids… but by “thing between us,” it’s the the possibility of being “mom’s girlfriend who lets us get away with murder” became real in a way it wasn’t before. I have no doubt that I would have been particularly good with her kids, because they were every bit the music nerds I was as a child. I started brass in fifth grade in “the system,” shorthand for the toughest music program in the nation, depending on where you go. But excellence in music is something Texas schools take very, very seriously. So, it’s not competition inside your school so much as it is the willingness to thrash other bands, publicly. In my band, we never did “Flight of the Bumblebee,” but that scene in Drumline is indicative of the kinds of things my band could do. My one year in marching band, we did a suite from “On the Waterfront.” I’ve never seen the movie, but Bernstein wrote a great score. What this has to do with the kids is that they were the type kids who would not have been impressed by this because their bands probably did something better…… and the conversations about it transcend age, because you remember what you’ve played and the circumstances surrounding it forever.

In fact, the biggest reason I’d like to have children in my life is to pass on everything I know about music. Classical music is a driving passion in my life, and something that children simply do not love without repeated exposure to it. I promise that even to a child who hates it, if your favorite piece is Moonlight Sonata, they remember…. and it will make them cry when they lose you. I, for all practical intents and purposes, cannot listen to solo piano often. My response is visceral and primal. Grief is a gaping wound you’re constntly living around and trying to ignore its presence. I work on my shit all day long- living around grief is not that you become immune to growth because you can’t get over it. It’s that you are no longer who you used to be. You are not only grieving the one you lost, but the self you presented in front of them.

The closest my mother ever got to an unguarded version of me was telling her I was in trouble psychologically and letting her visit me in the hospital. In the past, I wouldn’t have told her something like that, that I needed her in that specific way, because it was both Lindsay’s and my mission not to upset her. We hid things from her because we knew they’d set her off, worrying her needlessly. We did that successfully, but our mother didn’t really know us, either.

There were two things that set her off after the divorce. My being queer, because I was part of that “perfect family” vision she lost and it made me feel guilty AND the fact that I was the child that reminded her of my dad the most in temperament and she did not appreciate that fact in the slightest. When she was angry at me, she was fighting with someone who wasn’t in the room. I can have empathy for it, but it doesn’t erase the fact that in some ways, we just became incompatible. That’s because she gave me the message constantly that being like him was bad. I spent a lot of time at my dad’s house because of it, because the longer we lived together, the more I became anxious about it.

One of the biggest pain points I had to reconcile in therapy about my childhood was feeling like I threw Lindsay to the wolves. That my mother completely decompensated and I didn’t help because I couldn’t. My autistic nature and sense of justice makes me the kind of person that will argue with a signpost. Her depressive nature made me feel bad about needing to talk about our relationship on that level and my mother’s refusal to go there. She did not want to admit she was sick. She did not want to admit that she needed therapy and medication. I am not saying this lightly, like I’m just this therapy case that thinks everyone should do what I do. I am saying that in my clinical observation, she was a trainwreck….. and she couldn’t clean it up because she didn’t think she deserved it. Depression ate her lunch as well as blindness. She was stuck in a permanent state of Eeyore that left a pallor over the whole house. Her depression rubbed up against mine and it was every bit as detrimental as adding a depressant like alcohol to already depressed behavior. It went forth and multiplied.

Fundamentally, she did not like me. I am not saying she didn’t love me with all of her heart and mind. I am saying she did not like the way I processed emotions because it came across as blunt and narcissistic because she would never have had me tested for anything that would have put me into special classes. She didn’t want to face a social stigma if she didn’t have to. Autism makes you sound like you’re the biggest asshole in the world, that everything revolves around you, when in most cases it’s that I’m not thinking about your response and I throw truth bombs when you aren’t used to them. If you are a person that avoids confrontation, then all observations of behavior like I have on my blog are going to feel like an attack. That’s because my words don’t carry the weight of social construct or nicety. I am not working from that core, masking my thoughts. I am letting them flow through me and writing is my every day example of how my mind works. I am trying to create a YouTube video in your mind about autism and ADHD through the cunning use of word pictures.

My brain processes information differently than any of my friends, but I would say that Supergrover and I have the closest thinking style to each other than the rest…. except Beck. We are so connected I am not sure we are actually different people. I am feeling the same heady rush you get in a romance because new relationship energy is focused no matter what kind it is. It makes me feel good, a new source of dopamine that gets constantly refilled because I am not using her for it. We refill each other’s cups of energy because we’re focused so hard on ourselves. You work differently from a place of abundance than you do of scarcity. The biggest risk I’ve already taken is unmasking. I’ll never do anything more important, because when everything is already out there, my blog cannot be used for blackmail. I can be confident in my intuition again, because I have extensive knowledge of what is and is not normal for me.

I am never telling people what they should do in a conversation, just “this is what I’m hearing and that is how it makes me feel.” I am a stickler for not using the words “you made me” in a conversation….. or, more accurately, when people say “you tried to make me.” Absolute bullshit this time, Sherlock. I express needs and retreat or move forward depending on your responses. Some of them are naturally going to make me feel good. Some of them are going to make me feel bad. But you didn’t make me or try to make me feel any of those things. I am responding. I am not going to put myself through blaming myself for your words. That I should have known something that you did, because you have a certain picture in your mind of how our interaction should have gone accoding to social convention, when I am always standing just to the left of those. I can see and analyze human behavior, but I have to know if the person is neurotypical or neurodivergent first, because that’s going to alter how I view someone’s perception. What they are capable of seeing and what they’re not.

For instance, I would take responsibility for Supergrover’s care and feeding if she was ill, but I would not take responsibiity for knowing whether she needed it or not. That I should have been somehow able to divine when she was ill and what that meant for me in terms of how I should respond. I am using this virtual relationship on purpose, because taking responsibility for helping her get well is something she has never asked of me, therefore it can be a fictional example instead of a real one. But people in relationships do this to each other all the time. They leave their expectations unsaid so their needs are unmet and blame the other person for just not seeing it. I can blame my mother for that in a way I cannot blame others, because if something about my behavior isn’t noticed, the hierarchy of parenthood says it’s something she should have…. and should have listened when I expressed needs in a way that no one else should have to do now. But I do not blame her for not responding to my needs when I was so excellent at keeping them hidden. I am saying that when I opened up, she seemed immediately uncomfortable with my life. Therefore, the urge to open up wasn’t necessary right up until it was unavoidable.

I have no doubt that other queer kids feel this every day. That they are told through thought, word, and deed that they are not enough. That their parents have no idea how much cultural stigma affects them because they are fed an extra helping at home when our growth and development is fundamental to setting our personalities. The message that we are not enough is so loud that our suicide rates are up to three times larger than the general population. We are not far enough out of white supremacy Jesus apologists everywhere for straight people not to be enculturated that way, that straight is the only way and if you’re gay, be celibate about it.

Sex is one of God’s greatest gifts and on the present day base of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, yet despite homosexuality naturally occuring in every population on earth, including animals, and evangelicals feel nothing about the fact that they’re justifying stunting queer people that way. That there should be no discussion about the fact that science is real and the Bible is not, and I say that because nothing is provable, not that the truths it holds don’t matter. I do have faith, but it’s centered on what Jesus accomplished and not sticky, sticky blood theology.

There is a fountain filled with blood……

Give me a break.

I wear an icthus, not a death instrument. I believe in intelligence and espionage, thus loving the story of smuggling Jesus out of Israel and into Egypt, and the new church establishing the sign of the fish to know whether they’re safe or not. For the uninitiated, if you were Jewish and a part of the new sect vs. orthodox, you would drag your shoe in the sand in the shape of the bottom arc of the fish. If the other person was Christian, they would drag their foot in the opposite arc. It was an underground way of spreading the message.

Those are the good parts I take away from the Bible and not the hypocrisy surrounding it. If I take in the message of the Southern Baptist church, I am forced into a state of shame that even God wouldn’t want. God promises a future in the Old Testament to prosper you, and anything that steps on my personal liberty to a degree in which that promise is not extended to me is over the line, Smokey. Mark it zero. There is a direct correlation between evangelical Christianity and American police thinking they are the sole judge, jury, and executioner when, in fact, all lives matter. We are not saying that black lives matter. We are saying your behavior takes away from that message. That you are saying one thing and doing another, constantly speaking out of both sides of your face. Calling out hypocrisy is different than oppression. The police are also white supremacy apologists because their religion tells them it’s okay…. and the police skew conservative on social issues. Clearly.

Clearly.

See? Now I sound judgmental about policemen when I am judgmental of the system. My ire with the police and my ire with men are the same. I have a boyfriend. Clearly I am not anti-male. But I am definitely critical of the ways in which white men are groomed to treat women, and critical of men who aren’t strong enough to stand up to that systemic change and let it happen. The police continue to believe black lives matter less no matter how much we might attempt to break them of the habit…. but things are changing, slowly. I think there’s a wreckoning going on and people who don’t normally stand up are finally feeling the burn. We cannot let our culture go to hell in a handbasket, and we are slowly destroying each other. We cannot legislate our way out of treating each other like shit.

Especially when so many of us process information differently and because of it, we are treated as less than as well. Mentally ill people are seen as their diagnosis and not their personality. I will always be known for the ups and downs of bipolar and not what I manage to accomplish in spite of it. Some days, I am not even capable of enough spoons to leave the house. I get everything delivered so leaving the house is only dependent on the things I can’t find with Uber Eats or Amazon. What no one seems to get is that needs to be my normal. That I function better with less stimulation and engagement, so please. Invite me to anything and everything, but have sympathy for the fact that I cannot have as much energy as you all the time. Let me off the hook for social engagements immediately and don’t walk away mad about it because I am not conforming to what you need in that moment.

That’s because when I do have spoons, you’ll get the very best of me. I won’t always let you down. I am just different. What I am saying is that I cannot respond to that much stimuli all the time, and I isolate in order to gather energy for it. I am not shy, I just don’t have much of a social battery and when it runs out, I need to get the fuck out of public. When I panic with social anxiety, I don’t expect anyone to be happy about it. I am saying that I am trying my best, and please be patient with me.

I am not responsible for your reaction, only to be sensitive to the fact that I am not always working on my time and I need to roll with it. I can’t completely drop out of society except for my weird little collection of internet friends, the clown shoes to my stripey tent. What makes my friends so lenient with me is that they can be absolutely honest with me as well. You don’t want to go to something I planned five minutes before? Sure, no problem, but I will be angry if you don’t reschedule. Not rescheduling is the friendship death knell. I think that’s why I prefer internet relationships. I can’t remember who said it, but “the kind of people I’m attracted to are the kind of people who also don’t want to leave their house.”

If it seems weird, think about how many college students have bonded without ever having met since 2001, when distance education really began to get in full swing. I have no doubt it led to romances after showing off in class…. easy when you’re virtual and also in the same city so the transition isn’t a huge vacation with a once in a lifetime chance of it working out. If I moved to DC “for Supergrover” at all, it’s so that if our relationship would go in that direction, it could without incident. For instance, saying “meet you in Dupont” is different than “my plane lands at 10:44.” It’s the safety and security of meeting for lunch instead of meeting for lunch after picking them up, hating each other, and being stuck with each other for three to seven days.

It was Ted Lasso who said, “be curious, not judgmental.” I’ve been like this my whole life, my autistic gift for rambling manifesting as truly personal questions that some people are into and some find offensive. What becomes problematic is two people who love to have deep discussions start out as the first and degrade into the latter. If someone hurts you and still asks intrusive questions, you’re going to see it as an attack when the other person’s tone hasn’t changed. Then, it’s harder to mend the problem.

Emotional problems will never resolve with the ignorance of them.

Fighting through it is hell on earth, so the best thing that people can do for themselves is to spend time with a third party, because the longer you sit in that tension, the more you make decisions based on how you feel without the other person’s input and it starts the drift. One fissure snowballs, and people tend to ghost each other quickly due to lack of emotional bravery. They cannot sit in the cognitive dissonce of fighting without taking so much personally that they walk away thinking that they’ve been wronged on both sides…. at the end of a fight, not the beginning.

The biggest risk you’ll ever take is being vulnerable enough to work it out, especially when times get tough, because that involves strength you didn’t know you had and don’t develop until you have the desire. Relationships devolve into push/pull, because equilibrium is harder and harder to maintain.

Insecure attachments do not feed anyone. You have to know when your attachment style doesn’t feed you, because you cannot go any longer without understanding how they became that way. When you start with the question of how they behaved, you end at the possible things you might have triggered it, and not for malice. Checking where you could have done something differently that would have helped and didn’t, then cataloguing it to deal with another problem later on. That’s how you win or learn rather than losing. Each failure becomes a building block instead of a seminar on how much you suck.

Continuing to believe that “you made me” is a thing will constantly make you feel angry or guilty. Knowing that you’re responsible for contributing to a problem without being responsible for others’ reactions is key. It keeps you humble enough to leave room for negotiation, because you recognize everything isn’t all about you. I’ve realized I sound like a narcissist because I will keep arguing ad nauseam, making the other person feel unheard and like my word is law when in reality I just have an anxious attachment style and the need to turn over a problem in my mind until I can stop overexplaining. I often walk off in an argument, but not without it being understood that I am coming back…… most of the time. The swings were too big with Supergrover because the problem was so great. I couldn’t stand the thought of going one more minute like this and having to put energy toward it because of the trauma bond.

In short, I never would have tried to become Supergrover’s real friend because I didn’t feel secure enough to rest in it. I was just willing to work on it until I did, because the safety and securiy of knowing we could meet for lunch and not have it be a big deal has always been off. I invited her to go with me to something and she said no, but “someday, perhaps.” It’s the only time I’ve ever “asked her out,” because I knew that to ask more than once was beyond her comfort zone and I got tired of waiting to know if she still thought the idea was weird. I felt like the only way out was through, that we should sit in it until it wasn’t weird anymore. Until we could commit like an angel and a demon who have each other’s backs for all eternity. Lucifer and all his brothers….. but taking turns as to who is demonic and angelic all the time because they do. Never forget that Lucifer is a fallen angel, a child of God like everyone else. Neil Gaiman is the only writer I’ve ever met to capture this perfectly. “Good Omens” is a masterpiece. Neil Gaiman is entirely responsible for us being called “The Holy and the Moly,” changing frequently. I think she would have been a good sous chef. I think I would have, too, just in a different area of her life.

It fits in with all my other nonbinary natures, and it’s a huge risk to acknowledge it because I have imposter syndrome. That my writing doesn’t matter, that I’m bullshitting people over my gender, that people only tolerate queerness or disability to be nice, the list goes on and on. But acknowledging it allowed me to let go of anger, guilt, frustration at that treatment and just call it out as it comes up.

In the world of “Let it Go,” I am Roy Kent, looking up at Rebecca and mouthing the words.

Oi!

The Proud Family

What are you most proud of in your life?

Today is not the greatest day to have this prompt, because I’m dealing with a lot. Part of it is just now having any freedom at all to tell any stories about the whole ordeal with Supergrover, because now I just want it to be over and the story won’t quit. I need to put it down with force, and my dreams are eating my lunch. There’s a reason for this. You don’t meet extraordinary people without loving them through extraordinary problems. She didn’t do anything wrong, ever. My reactions are my own and have nothing to do with her. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard and I’m not entitled to my feelings after a decade, and it’s the entire reason why I need it all to end. I went into this relationship not knowing she didn’t think of me and what I do at all. I will never stop saying this, because even though she didn’t think it through, I’m not blaming her.

Where I feel blame comes in is pretending we’re okay when we are clearly, clearly not. I am not proud of any of this, yet that doesn’t mean it’s not still my story. It doesn’t mean that other people won’t connect to deep trauma and the bonds we create to deal with them. My problem here is that we managed to turn on each other and when we did, she discarded and I kept lovebombing because that’s what I do. She discarded me, later came back and forgave me, and then my mother died.

I was a completely different person who needed her in a completely different way. I stood up, and she didn’t rise to meet me. I do not know whether that is because she couldn’t, or whether she wouldn’t, and that’s not my call. My call is what to do with all her feelings because I cannot get a read on her and I’ve been walking on eggshells ever since. I would say she was a narcissist except she’s clearly not. It’s not like she discarded me for no reason. I earned it free and clear. I came onto my best friend while under duress, not because of anything she did, but because I was in a situation where I couldn’t deal and thought getting her to run away from me was easier than just telling her flat out, “you cannot be my friend. I do not have a clear path to you yet, because I cannot decide how I feel and it’s not a good thing.” If I had, we might have been able to save the relationship, essentially just putting it off until I was really myself again.

We didn’t have that kind of time. I needed to get there faster, and I didn’t. It is such a time of trial and pain that I am stil recovering a decade later. It doesn’t all have to do with her, she was just the lucky recipient of all the shit happening in my life that rolled downhill. I remember sitting on the floor of my apartment before Dana and I moved from Portland, telling her all my most intimate secrets while she told me hers.

It was never her looks that bound us. It never is when you fall in love from the inside out. Remember, our relationship is 99% text. Her words stuck with me because they were in my head, tone of voice fabricated when a phone call would have solved so much. Everything she said echoed in my chest, which made her voice louder in my echo chamber as well. When we were lovebombing each other, it was a high I’ll never experience again, because this was too unique a situation.

Dating Zac is my refuge in all of this, because I need time to rest and relax in a way I’ve never needed before. I cannot be fully present in a relationship right now, and he’s not waiting on me to decide anything because he doesn’t need me to do it. I can handle going out on dates, even platonic ones (going to Charlotte Cardin with Lindsay tomorrow night). I cannot handle the relationship escalator, because I cannot care for someone else in the way that I want while all this is going on. Believe me, it’s not that I can’t or stubbornly won’t move on. It’s all the things I can’t say, summed up by other factors at play. The triggers she left are still there and it’s going to take a while to get them out.

The triggers are large, but I agreed to take them on without knowing ahead of time what it really meant. That she’d always be the baby I’d respond to in the middle of the night with something to drink, Tylenol, and if she ever got old enough, I’ll throw in diaper changes for free. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. If that’s ont love, it’s saying I’d be tested when she said she had wonky organs. If that’s not love, I wouldn’t reach out for her in the middle of the night, without knowing what dream it will be that will make me do it, and being embarrassed that it even happens because like I said, I didn’t know. If my girlfriend heard me calling for her, I couldn’t tell her why and it would be a bad situation fast to wake up in the middle of the night with the wrong name on my lips, even for the purest of purposes and not anything to do with cheating. It’s because she’s done things like that for me in real life that make me want her protection, and then it flips, and the things I’d like to do for her as a repayment flip and it’s a different scenario altogether.

But when I express this to Supergrover, she says that she already has a very full life and can’t do anything for me. This is truly problematic because when we told each other all that stuff, we were drunk as fuck on each other’s brain chemicals and it looked a whole lot different once the effects started wearing off, because she’s not trusting enough to open up again and I have so far been inconsistent enough that when her eyebrows go over her forehead in exasperation because she didn’t ask for this shit, I pick up all my toys and go home because I didn’t sign up for that.

When I forgive someone, I mean it. I don’t let them do me dirty and then set boundaries where they can never work it out with me; I’m just too unwilling to trust an apology with changed behavior. I’ve never become jaded, and I’m proud of that. Jaded comes in when I don’t see changed behavior and I’m trying my absolute best. Where we were before determines how willing I am to set those boundaries, where no amount of feeling wronged erases love or care or connection for me. To love someone so unconditionally that I’d push the big red button on this web site if it came to that, because having the freedom to say what I want with no restrictions on it became a bad thing over time when she wouldn’t commit.

Because then I started having real problems with no peers except her, and she was shit at dealing with mental health. She didn’t know me well enough to know what would happen when we exchanged secrets with me, and neither one of us were prepared for the fallout because we knew each other’s deepest secrets without the context for it…….. except being in the honeymoon phase of a relationship where you can’t see anything going wrong. This person is never going to do anything wrong. There is nothing this person could do that would make me feel differently about them, etc.

I got that deep, but she did and she didn’t. This is because she pushed me away and brought me closer so that I never knew which end was really up. When we get too far apart, we start attracting each other like magnets, but to different degrees. Since I treated her with the same intense lovebombing after we made up, I don’t think I made sense to her. That’s not how it works in her world. If you fuck up, she’ll never open up again and I blew it. I didn’t protect the one baby I made promises to and it broke my heart in half. I jumped up and down trying to get her to see that my behavior was driven by something outside me that I couldn’t control, and it wasn’t my feelings for her. It was that ADHD kicked my ass in the moment and caused waves. Then, when I did the work and became healthy, she couldn’t trust that it was true.

I do not blame her for this. I blame both of us for keeping a toxic pattern and Supergrover being unwilling to work on solutions so that both of us felt well and healthy again. I feel like since she was coming from a very suspect place, she thought I was coming at her from that direction, too. That I was holding something over her head that I didn’t. I was facing the reality of the situation and asking to move on, and the reality is not pleasant. If she felt guilt, it was of her own doing because I didn’t bring up the past in order for that to happen. I will take responsibility for my tone sounding judgmental, but it’s not because I was trying to be judgmental. I’m ADHD and Autistic, raised by a pastor and later a doctor.

I don’t see judgment. I run numbers, emotionally speaking. Where’s the percentage in our behaviors in this situation and what needs to happen in light of it….. not “you’re bad and I hate you.” And of course, because that’s what she thought I was saying to her, that’s how she treated me. That I was always wrong, terrible, and judgmental because I was so mean to her all the time.

No, cielo. That is not true nor has it ever been. I do not see you as wrong and bad, but a mirror reflection of me. When I move my right hand, you move your left. When I learned to love me, the love for you grew deeper because you’ve always lived inside me, my Impossible Girl as I became yours over 10 years. The two Timeless Children that fall into each other the most often. The ones who love so intensely that it flames out, because avoidant/anxious patterns fill a need. We have, as my friend Donna Schuurman said, “compatible wounds.” I am not calling you out, that’s a psychological term she uses that has stuck with me for over 20 years. That’s why I bellieve managed correctly, our relationship makes us perfect for each other. Left untouched, we’ll emotionally destroy each other……… and that’s exactly what has happened. We have left so much “done and left undone” that those sins are grevious unto me.

This relationship will sustain us or it will kill us, and in order for it to stop hurting us that way, we will have to have it out. There’s no way around it, and she doesn’t have time, which ramps up my feeling that she doesn’t think I’m worth it. That she won’t submit to any boundaries I set forth because I don’t deserve them with her. And then, just when I think all hope is lost, there she is. My dragon. The one I love more than all the others. It’s just that safety and security for me is so lacking and so secure without knowing what day it is. I cannot cope and shouldn’t have to, and not because I am feeling entitled and want to intrude upon her life. It’s that she forgave me and I jumped through hoops to prove myself because of it. What I didn’t know is that it wouldn’t work and nothing would ever be the same. That I’d carry a constant feeling of “I can’t do anything right” and constantly have it validated. I am not that person. I am not wrong and bad all the time, and I refuse to be treated that way when I’m just expressing needs.

I tend to get angrier than I should because the longer she goes without addressing anything the less I want to walk on eggshells around her, but I run up into the limits of her forgiveness that way and it just hurts. There was no choice for me except to walk away until Supergrover can love herself the way I love both of us. That her reactions need to come from a place of joy again, because I know they do for other people. I’m just standing outside a big circle, sort of forgiven and yet not. She is folded into my family and content to be so without really recognizing that I need her, too. That if our relationship continues, I can be tight or not at all. I cannot walk in insecure attachments trying to heal them alone.

It’s running over the problem with Supergrover again in my mind because my autism naturally makes me ruminate over it constantly…. and yet, there’s a reason for that. I hit 45 and all of the sudden boundaries meant something to me when I’d never been able to do it before. I established boundaries with everyone in my life and she was so proud of the process until the last one was her. She was the last one for many reasons, the biggest being that I was depressed and isolating because I couldn’t focus on both of us, and it was time to let go if we weren’t moving forward, anyway, because I could not maintain the cognitive dissonance of loving someone so much and having a ceiling on how much it meant to her, and to have the level go up and down every day was frightening. I hung in as long as I could, but I’m not waiting on the world to change. I just hope it does, because I’ve done more work on myself for the past 10 years that would not have been possible if I hadn’t started from a place of pain and reclaimed my life in such a way that I was more stable and capable of dealing with emotions.

If nothing else, I hope she’s proud I’ve gotten there, and I know she is. She’s told me so. What she will not do is get there herself, because it’s too hard and it hurts too much. She’s told me there’s just so much she’ll never let go of. I also know I’m one of them. Even if we never speak again, we’ve changed each other to such a degree that we don’t fit in the old containers we made for each other. They used to stack, and now they’re warped.

I am most proud of getting rid of the floppy plastic boundaries and starting to build with steel……. and it’s okay if that’s with someone else. But we could be The Proud Family if we gave it both our pennies.