#aspien woman

[darkobssessions]

Autism Things: A List

-when you can’t show your work or follow any particular steps unless they make sense to you (or are YOUR specific way of doing things)

-when you can’t look up anything new without it becoming an hours long journey into obscure details, most likely becoming a special interest, and connecting to your life’s work in some way

-along the same vein, when you cannot do the simplest of tasks without overcomplicating it, like turning a shopping spree into a categorisation and research fest, or setting out to do one specific task and ending up labeling and boxing all your belongings

-when you have to prepare for weeks before an outing, and then sleep for weeks when it is done, especially if you have to mask extra hard around the people

-but also getting very vexed if someone changes plans last minute, secretly relieved that the pressure TODAY is gone, BUT now you know it will be looming over you until it does happen

-meltdowns in simple human language are ‘I have gotten hopelessly overloaded and you would do well to clear out of the bomb’s way.’ Maybe next time don’t pressure that they go out somewhere stressful, or dismiss the fact that every single sound is in an orchestra of disharmony?

-speaking of sounds. Every. Single. One. It’s multilayered. The mosquitos chime in, the bed creaks, the neighbours upstairs are having a fight again. In words it is linear, in senses, it is a simultaneous melted cheese cacophony.

-feeling physical pain at that one person’s voice, or that texture that you cannot stand anywhere near you. Toxic chemical smells? Forget it. I see the sensitivity as an app more intricate than those on smart phones for toxic level detection. If we’re wheezing, it’s altering your hormones and chemistry, Karen.

-barometers. That’s the word. It IS too hot in here, and stuffy, and crowded and messy. You think you don’t care but your spirit is suffering.

-keeping a job approximately as long as it takes to burnout. No more and no less.

-doing things the same exact way because THEY WORK. Watching favourite shows again because they also work. The desired outcome is a given. Yes I WILL be watching the Lord of the Rings extended edition for the 5th time. Nowhere near done.

-doing something with our hands while talking and getting very excitable. Probably don’t even notice ourselves doing it. It feels good, and it’s somehow sound solidified.

-giving you compliments and being really nice. Actually is really nice. No agenda.

-getting fooled when people lie and taking everyone at face value unfortunately means a penchant for attracting predatory behaviour. Cannot compute people being mean, selfish or not wanting to hear the truth.

-about the truth. You will hear it. Facts are facts. They don’t care about feelings. Doesn’t make them insensitive. We need rules, people.

-not finishing a task or assignment because you literally collected 200 pages worth of information more than was required. There’s a fuse button in normal human circuits I think? I can’t locate mine. 

-hopping, twirling, swaying, rocking, squeaking, jumping up and down, flapping, are all ways we show that we are super enjoying ourselves. There’s so much energy in the system it starts to escape in patterns, like a glitter storm all around us.

-similarly, an individual who does not go through meltdowns cannot possibly understand the uncontrollable behaviour that comes from being pushed over the edge. Not in a tantrum way, because we are not getting our way. But a collapse. Everything hurts, words and sounds become jumbled, it feels like a panic attack or paralysis. You might see head hitting, punching things, smacking or pinching which are unconscious ways we try to release the stress or manage the overload.

-when we say we are in burnout we do not mean that we are way overworked and just tired for the weekend. This is bed for days, in the dark, no words, no mobility. This is losing function, friends and ability to do basic tasks. 

-that being said, paradoxically incredibly adept and nimble at seemingly impossible and very difficult tasks while being hopelessly poor at various other things, mostly those people usually find a piece of cake. Depends on the person and their skills and special interests. For example delivering a scientific analysis talk without preparation, understanding deeply nuanced subjects, solving complex problems, identifying the errors in any operation. In contrast, could be poor at hygiene, riding the bus or navigating the supermarket, or knowing what to say to new friends.

-no conception actually of the manual of the friendship trajectory. Oversharing on the first date or first meet up? Sure. Best friends after two positive experiences? Yes. Otherwise keeping years long friends at a distance because lacking inner prompts to make things more serious? Also yes. 

-and it goes without saying that the social cues and the ability to unravel the scripts people use to navigate is not the strongest suite.

More to come. 

[zebrasbazaar]

Reblog or comment if you're a Rainbow Zebra, too.

[alexeiadrae]

Thoughts on Anne with an E

Finally checked out Anne with an E. I’d read Anne of Green Gables while growing up, though I don’t remember a lot about it and I didn’t read the subsequent books. I don’t think I ever found them in the library or bookstore type thing. I also have memories of watching the films that were made in the 1980s, though not a lot of memories. I remembered enjoying them but I don’t remember a lot of the details of the plot and stuff. At anyrate, I finally checked out and finished watching Anne with an E. Spoilery thoughts down below.

-I remember Marilla, particularly as she was depicted in the movies, as being one of those characters that scared me as a child. I do remember some of the kind things she did, such as how she changed her mind about sending Anne to live with a family who just wanted to use her as an unpaid servant. But she really scared me growing up. In Anne with an E I really liked Marilla, and am left wondering if they changed her portrayal or if it was a lot of the nuisance of her character getting lost through a child’s eyes, or if I really picked up on Anne’s fear of being sent away if she displeased Marilla and that overwhelmed everything else about her character.

-I have no memory of Matthew, in fact I was surprised Marilla had a brother. It’s shame because I adored Matthew in Anne with an E and his relationship with Anne was very heartwarming and one of the best things about the show.

-I liked the focus on love beyond romantic love. Love between siblings or adopted parent and child. Matthew deciding to forgo rekindling a relationship with Jeannie to focus on Anne.

-Anne is autistic. That is how autism often presents in girls. Anne is practically a textbook definition of an Aspien girl. I could relate a lot, though I’ve never been a chatterbox, but if someone gave a hint of interest in my wanderings as I was very much aware of how much people weren’t interested and being ridiculed for my special interests was enough to keep me silent, but if someone did show a hint of interest it would be infodump city. It was bizarre watching it, seeing why people find Anne annoying but also seeing why people like her and are drawn to her. I wish it were as easy to find kindred spirits in real life as it was for Anne to find them. Internet has done wonders in that regard. I could relate to a lot of the stuff in the first season, painfully so at times. As well as how it feels to get so passionate about moral injustice and have other people react with indifference.

-I loved Gilbert’s facial expressions. He knows how to give a baffled, confused look. It was fun just to watch Lucas Jade Zumann’s performance.

-I’d sad that they aren’t continuing the show past the 3rd season. That said, I would like a spin off with Ka’kwet and her family getting her back.

-OK, I had a hard time with the Winifred plot because Winifred appears to be so much older than Gilbert. It looks as though there’s roughly a 10 year age gap between the actors, and Gilbert is still in high school. I couldn’t find anything official about Winifred’s age, I saw someone comment that the creator said she’s 19 but there was no link to verify and it’s just baffling why they cast someone so much older than Zumann. I appreciate that they didn’t vilify Winifred, and I could see why Gilbert is interested in her, but because of the seeming age gap I couldn’t understand why she would be interested in him. By the time I was 18 and out of high school and in college I had no interest in high school boys. By the time I was 20 I definitely had no desire for teenage boys and caused me to be suspicious of her as a result.

I wish that rather than have Ruby develop feelings for Moody they’d instead developed a plotline with Ruby having to let Gilbert go. 

-I did love all of the exploration of being an intelligent woman in a time when women were not encouraged to develop their potential, as well as how to fit into a community when you are so different. In all it was enjoyable and well done and leaves me wanting to check out the source material, even though I understand it is diverges. It also brought on some nostalgia and memories of watching the show on PBS during their fundraisers with my dad. 

[creativity-is-rebellion]

Some Things are Not Dialectic

So much has happened to me since I last wrote on this blog. To sum it up in a nutshell: I changed therapists (something I have been meaning to do for a while now), I was hospitalised yet again for just a little over a week this time, voluntarily, for recurrent suicidal thoughts, where I was tentatively diagnosed (yet again) with BPD, and the new therapist I started seeing after coming out of the hospital diagnosed me with Asperger’s. I also started a DBT program, which I am now six weeks into. Previous therapists, if you have read any of my other posts, have diagnosed me with Bipolar I, but after only two sessions with the psychiatrist at the hospital, and in the wake of him talking, at length, with my husband about my history, I was informed that I probably have Bipolar II and BPD. My regular psychiatrist disagrees with this and stated that it is probably complex trauma (or C-PTSD) and Bipolar I. I am inclined to trust the diagnosis of the latter more, as I have been seeing her for two years now. And now I also have an Asperger’s diagnosis from my new psychologist. What a mess. After all these upheavals, I feel emotionally at sea.

I also decided to swap medications at the hospital (the Seroquel was not helping my insomnia and was making me gain a bit of weight) and finally gave Lithium, the supposed “gold standard” of Bipolar medication, a chance. And it made me terribly ill. I was so nauseous all the time that after 4 weeks of struggling along, I had to give it up. I even broke out in a rash, but no professionals, not even my GP, wanted to listen to my misgivings, so I just informed them all that I was coming off it. My psychiatrist respected my decision, but wants to put me on something else. I am reluctant, because I have tried all sorts of medication for extended periods of time, and there are always negative side-effects, or they don’t do what is intended. I was told in the hospital by the psychiatrist that Lithium would be ideal for someone like me who has ambitions, wants a career, and doesn’t want to sleep for 20 hours a day, so when I experienced intolerance, I felt so disappointed. I even spent some time blaming myself. I have found my overall experience with taking medications really draining and time-consuming. I feel as if I am trying, and even doing everything I should, but it’s just not paying off. One method that I have tried in the past on my hospital visit before this one was ECT, and I did find that somewhat effective, but the results were not long-lasting enough. And, after reading about the experiences of those who get regular sessions of ECT, I worry about the possible effects it would have on my long-term memory if I was to go down that route. If there were any negative side-effects within this vein, it would be incompatible with the way in which I want to live my life, including my career goals.

While I was in the hospital, I was referred to a centre that specialised in Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT). I have read about DBT previously, and wanted to try it out when I received a previous diagnosis of Borderline “tendencies” in Norway, however, as I lived in a small town, there were no DBT groups available nearby, and so my therapist gave me a booklet to read up on it on my own. I had also previously stumbled upon the therapist that founded DBT (Marsha Linehan) when I was studying my Bachelor of Psychology. She later admitted that she actually had been diagnosed with BPD herself, and so DBT was a hodge-podge of different therapies and western and eastern practices that had worked for her. I thought the refterral would take longer to process than it did, but it was processed more-or-less straight away after I came out of hospital. I attended the three commitment meetings and was successfully offered a place, and, after all that I had heard and read, was excited to begin. But six weeks in, I feel let down. 

Let me preface what I am about to say by stating that I think there is a lot of good methods to help tackle negative feelings that DBT offers, but a lot of the skills surrounding self-care are competencies I already possess (and so nothing new). There are also some aspects of DBT that are just not really relevant to me specifically, but that’s alright. If I look at it as more tools I can fill my emotional toolbox with, not everything is going to fit. I enjoy and aim for self-improvement, and this is what attracted me to DBT in the first place. On the other hand, I am an analytical person who enjoys testing concepts and seeing if there are any potential flaws in what I am learning, and the method of delivery of the current program I am in doesn’t seem to leave room or space for that. I am finding aspects of DBT condescending, basic, and invalidating. I don’t feel that my prior knowledge or skills are being acknowledged as strengths I am bringing to the table that I can build upon. It is almost as I, along with the rest of the group, am being treated as if I am clueless, and that the therapists and coaches involved in the DBT group sessions are the autocratic, absolute experts on everything we should be doing and what we are doing “wrong,” something that I feel is quite harsh given that most who suffer from BPD also have C-PTSD, or, conversely, that those with C-PTSD can often be misdiagnosed with BPD. After researching some more, I have found that I am not alone in these misgivings. 

I decided to share some of my criticisms just this morning with my individual coach. We met at a cafe near where I live, after I dropped the kids off at school. Towards the end of the session, she asked me directly if I ever felt she had invalidated me in our individual sessions. I decided to be honest and tell her that I had felt that. I have only just started acknowledging past trauma, some of which occurred years ago, to both myself and my therapists. It’s mostly because I feel that it is time to do so, because the thoughts and feelings were coming up more and more regularly, intrusively and involuntarily, to the point where I feel like I can’t ignore them anymore. Three weeks ago, I disclosed to my coach in an individual session about the trauma and sexual abuse I had experienced via school bullying. I told her that she had laughed briefly after I had told her about a boy who had pinched my bottom in front of the whole grade on a dare when I was was 13, and said I didn’t blame her, maybe she laughed out of surprise, but when I also told her that she had, in the same conversation, told me not to worry about “stupid school” (her exact words), she denied having said that to me at all, and got quite defensive. 

She even said that perhaps I had just “experienced it that way,” and just refused to acknowledge that she had said that at all. I felt so gaslighted,so triggered (my mother tried to gaslight me all the time) and am now unsure whether I will continue with DBT. I left really shaken up, which was tough as I had had a really rough week and had actually woken up in a good mood, and had to then work really hard to turn my thoughts back around again. Upon reflection, I think the coaches are badly trained and unprofessional. This might be what is making the delivery sub-par. Maybe it’s just yet another case of “you get what you pay for.” Now, the question is, do I continue, and just try to focus on implementing the skills, instead of worrying about my obvious personality clash with the therapists and coaches involved? Sigh.

Now, to address the Asperger’s diagnosis: I actually feel it is a good fit. She got in an expert who took me through the diagnostic criteria before giving me the diagnosis, and, for the first time in a long time, I felt validated. I have been doing a lot of reading since receiving my diagnosis, and have found a number of interesting facts about females with Asperger’s, such as they are more likely to be overlooked for diagnosis compared to that of boys, as they do not present with the same symptoms, and are often misdiagnosed with (interestingly) Bipolar, BPD, or even OCD, because it was (until recently) considered a diagnosis exclusively reserved for boys. They are overlooked because they tend to be great social mimics (as females generally are more socialised than men), which masks the symptoms and difficulties females with ASD face. I believe that one of the reasons for my life-long fascination with human behaviour (to the point that I decided to study it), is due to my desire to fit in, when I have always felt different. I have, as my husband has also observed, a number of special interests that I enjoy talking about at length in social settings, and often fail to pick up on the social cues of boredom in the individuals I am talking to. But, that’s alright. It is part of the diagnosis. I am working on it. I might not ever get there, but that is alright too. In my research on the subject, I found a delightful blog from Tania Marshall, as well as her book, entitled “I am Aspien Woman,” which discusses the unique struggles of females with Asperger’s. The blurb to the book states: “Have you ever wondered about a friend, a partner, a mother, sister or daughter? Wondered why she says she feels 'different'? Out of step with her peers, she may struggle keeping friends and a job, yet she has multiple degrees. Bright from early on, she may have singleminded focus, sprinkles of anxiety, sensory and social issues, be gifted in art, writing, science, research or singing. Maybe she is a woman on the Autism spectrum, with a unique constellation of super-abilities, strengths and challenges?” I relate to all of this. I was a precocious reader with an eidetic memory from an early age. I have multiple degrees, and am creative, but struggle in social situations. It’s who I am, and I accept it. When I told my GP, who also closely follows my mental health progress, that my current psychologist has diagnosed me with Asperger’s, she dismissively stated that “everybody is different - we are all on the spectrum” - to which I have to say - what a load of crap. There is different, and there is different. I have always been a person that marches to the beat of her own drum, sometimes to my detriment. But it’s just how I am.

So, what if I don’t have BPD, or Bipolar, but rather “just” Asperger’s? I am high-functioning, so I can understand that it took a long time to identify it, but, on the other hand, it feels as if going through all of the struggles I have been through could have been prevented if only I had had a therapist that was skilled enough to really listen to me, to pick up the signs, and to validate me. I am hoping I have that now with my current psychologist, and am looking forward to working together with her toward a brighter future where I can accept myself and also work on my issues in a safe space.

After years of not sharing my thoughts or being as assertive as I want to be, I have found that recently I have been coming out of my shell in this respect, and those around me aren’t liking it. Apart from the example above, on the day I was leaving the hospital, there were a series of delays concerning my release, that, when they all added up, frustrated me so much, I had to say something. I sometimes think that those in the so-called “caring” professions abuse their power. Whether it’s bad training, an authoritative personality, or other traits that are, in my opinion, not suited to these professions that are the cause, it is a dilemma which is vital to address. Of course, #notalltherapists. But, in my long-standing experience with mental health services, and as a psychology graduate myself, it is enough to cause concern. Too often, patients are discounted because of what’s wrong with them, dismissed because the health professional believes themselves to know better, or put into the “too hard” basket for so-called “difficult” behaviour. But what needs to be acknowledged is that the person that is standing in front of them is there because they are seeking help, and should be looked at as an individual, and not necessarily by the box the therapist wants to fit them into. More duty of care, more empathy, and more acknowledgement, is needed.

[helenwhiteart-blog]

Finally found my specialism (right under my nose)

Women who discover they have Asperger’s in their mid-life, having wandered around feeling as mystified as I have about their “different” traits all their lives, are burgeoning with the desire to take ownership of their newly labelled state; to explore themselves through new eyes and see where this uniqueness is leading. They don’t feel more broken as a result of this diagnosis; rather they feel more whole as the pieces fall together. Its like living life in reverse!

For many years, in fact most of my life, I have known that I “have a book in me” and yet I have too-ed and fro-ed to the very edge of writing such a book. With a couple, I got very far down the line, only to experience such cold feet, a feeling of collapse in my sense of purpose to keep going with them, that they got sidelined at the eleventh hour. Something kept stopping me in my tracks and, at…

[humie]

Flawsome INTJ Aspien Synesthesian Muslimah #wordscantdescribe #perspective #instagram #wordsofwisdom #quotes #photography #picoftheday #photoftheday #instadaily #instacollage #latergam #landscape #women #woman #education #peace #beautiful #wordstoliveby #happiness #motivation #photo #word #wordstoliveby #books #intj #instavideo #wanderlust #aspergers #art #wisewords #art

[darkobssessions]

February 7th, 2021

THE RETURN OF THE LIGHT

After approximately 6.7 megamonths of deep, deep processing and hiding

The dark shifts with a familiar teeter-tottering feeling that is an hour's less rest a night adding up exponentially

Including an hour less in the morning until by the end of the first week it has been zipped short at both ends

Til it is one long night of open eyes and realizations. With added energy and added hours.

You would think it heaven. But the hell is the inability to keep up. After about a week, maybe two of this amped up push,

You reach the inevitable conclusion of a crash once more. There are no words for the manic derangement of sorting every book in your library

Because you can, because your brain whispered 'do it'

No words for the grand ideas and delusions that descend like a monsoon rain

At first it's an exciting time catching up to all the life you didn't live for a while

But then it catches up to you, and it is living you in loud obtrusive sounds and colours

I call it the return of the light, because it has telltale symptoms.

The dark begins to lift, hour by hour, the dark days are over, at least for now

The chink in the curtain is now a blinding eyefull, and you're brave enough to stare, head on

The return of my wonder, of my words, of a sense of self, at least before the whirlwind gets out of hand

I have never appreciated my differences as much as this day, this night, because I have a framework now

And my sensitive soul, is this way for a reason, my being plugged into the grid, flashing neon when we're about to hit an iceberg

I like being an indicating output, sometimes. As expected, I will grow weary, and put myself back on the dusty shelf, until next time.

But now the world needs a flashing reminder, handy little me making it known

You've left your indicator on. You're about to run ashore. You might not want to leave the house with the toaster on.

Hey, over here. Where all the wild things grow. Up here, where unwanted things go to die.

It's sacred work, though tiring. I get all these hours and all these senses to myself, to weave together a tapestry, before dark again.

Each time I'm closer to the full picture. Each time is a mad race to finish the most.

Not many appreciate my manic contribution. After all, we are all floating about in relative illusion.

Not many understand my unique calling or patterning and the framework in which my quirks sit.

I am a gifted conundrum, with special challenges. I like these new words.

I like these new days. Passion and steam, but an eventual haven of belonging.

I would explain more but I like it vaguely deep, and soon the light returns on this side of the world. Haven't slept a wink

And have inspiration to share tomorrow morning with scores of children

I'll remember to try to appear human. Yes, I have eaten, slept and humanned. Yes it has taken 27 years to realise all these things and collect all these books and insects.

It actually took 7 hours to set this room up to teach you, and my life's work is still a common myth in this home.

But I will share. I like tea parties with wonder.

Good night, world. See you with eyes wide shut, soon.

[zebrasbazaar]

This is a really good take on this subject and I think, the thing that makes later diagnosis harder to swallow for those close and not so close to the newly realised autistic person. What are your thoughts?

[darkobssessions]

For real though, where has this resource been all my life.

https://taniaannmarshall.wordpress.com/2013/03/26/moving-towards-a-female-profile-the-unique-characteristics-abilities-and-talents-of-asperwomen-adult-women-with-asperger-syndrome/?fbclid=IwAR09ce6ihUL48kw_uH4tAgfeZ8C0a9o-zhu-l2CAEbVA1J4fVuitIEeWsFI

I didn’t think there was a WORD for half the things I experienced.

How can I be so beyond advanced in some areas and so painfully inept in others? What does it mean to be a genius at categorising, at my interests, at making connections and seeing the world but challenged with certain types of skills? Like why do I not have hand eye coordination? Why can I not follow choreography, for the life of me? Why do I have terribly poor spatial awareness, ability to find places and directions, and what seems like physical blind spots? I’m always wacking my head against low ceilings and the edges of things even though they are RIGHT THERE. I can tell you a theory on their existence, I can feel out for you their essence, but can I see 2 inches around this large head? Apparently not! Why am I so poorly equipped to handle rhythm? Like I don’t hear the dips and rises? I can’t do certain types of tasks. You can repeat it indefinitely and this intelligent person right here CANNOT COMPUTE. Some things with numbers and concerning money. But I can find my way out of a dark night of the soul blindfolded. I can play connect the dots with 50 subjects, and keep tangential thoughts in mind. I can hack and rewrite life codes, I can access worlds in daily life, I can rattle off a thousand functions for the gut brain axis and nutritional components, I can hyperfocus for hours without budging on tiny little collections of insects and objects, but I can’t do social skills? I can talk for hours about my passions, but I don’t know how to change the subject in conversation or listen very well? My voice is a singsong story I’m telling, gesticulating wildly with my hands, and I’ve been called aggressive, too sensitive, or too expressive. And with all this acute awareness, if you gave me a new laptop to get used to, I would learn to navigate it quickly, typing up a storm. But if I try to use my old one again, I will without rhyme or reason, see an overlay of the new one on the top of my old keyboard. And will begin making spatial mistakes on a laptop I have had for 7 years. WHAT IN THE WHAT. Learned it’s classed under dyspraxia. There’s also pragmatic language skills, which I score low on. Social skills obviously, attention differences. I can navigate imaginary and unseen worlds, but have trouble here, in the physical. When do I eat? How do I greet these people? Sometimes I walk away mid sentence. I’ve hidden in bathrooms because the pressure of a gathering got to be too much. I always thought I was an alien in a foreign land, and was diagnosed on multiple tiers in this list, treated for many different things and STILL did not belong. None of it ever made sense until I found this. It’s all connected, all those odd quirks, skills, abilities and challenges.

[darkobssessions]

There are very few less equipped to handle special needs individuals than my parents. They’ve got the challenging personalities, the societal and cultural norms, the generations of tradition, the self critical inner voices, dismissiveness, denial and subtle and not so subtle guilt, blame and shame complexes going on. They’re out of their depth, I am 27 years too tired to ask for help or beg for my needs to be met, to be disappointed when they cannot or will not budge or try to understand. Well, and with the knowing that they cannot understand. That this is the limit of what they are willing and able to extend. ‘Try what normal people are doing.’ ‘We feel with you, but we are disappointed.’ ‘You’re regressing.’ Yes. Because I have hit my absolute limit of sensory overload, neglect, the wrong environments and putting up with things that disable me rather than push me to be the best that I can be. I am alive in SPITE of this environment, I am here with the knowledge of who I am and my role as a straight up miracle. I survived this hell of a situation so that I could be acutely attuned to the needs of those with a wider spectrum of senses and different needs. For that I’m thankful.

[darkobssessions]

I hear sounds very magnified, can't sleep in a room with even a little light in it, have trouble getting back to sleep or staying asleep if there's a disturbance in the room, sensory things literally hurt, I can go into overload easily, I have to prepare for weeks before an outing. I get extremely drained especially around individuals if I'm not authentic, I jump around, and noises and flap, I talk for hours about my special interests, can hyperfocus on stuff I love, and absolutely poor and bored with things I'm not good at, I'm either really there or really not, REALLY interested or terrible at it, I don't always understand social cues and what people are trying to say, I have a sensitive gut and can only eat in a certain way, I burn out really easily in jobs, I feel misunderstood in any group settings. I love to go back to the same places I've loved before, and to watch the same comfort movies, I am a specialist in areas those around me could care less about, I have meltdowns when I go into sensory overload, or I shut down, I have a hard time meeting with people sometimes, going to the supermarket can be a literal gauntlet walk, unexpected visits are a nightmare to me, I've been called weird and too intense, people say I have an accent and intonate words weirdly, I have a systemising brain and see things uniquely, I feel very intensely, I'm autistic ❤️

[darkobssessions]

Day 2: What Autism Means to Me

April 2nd: Post your redinstead photos today. Alternatively, you could talk about what autistic pride/autism acceptance month means to you.

As I have only recently found out about female autism, to me it means a whole lot of reframing my past experiences in the context of autism. It means a lot to celebrate my otherness and gifts, and finally like I can verbalize my struggles out loud, and accommodate for them, without shame. I am not a broken neurotypical person, but a perfectly valid neurodivergent. My brain is wired differently, I have quirks, I see things in a special way, I struggle, I learn. I misunderstand. I go really, really deep. Autism means for me a reclamation of the little animal kingdom I always felt living inside of me, passionate creatures, various shades, excitements and energies, inspirations and dreams. I can let the magic back out again, because it never left, I only dimmed it, and got scared and lost because I was misguided off my track. That part of me never dies. It is an indestructible well of deep pure joy. It is the dance with the senses that will be the work of my life to convey. Being autistic, different, neurodivergent, other, fae, witchy, weird, disabled, gifted, struggling, overcoming, sensitive and so strong are things to be proud of and embrace. Because it comes in all shapes and sizes, and it stares people in the face daily. And I am proud to represent this neurotype, speak for myself and share my stories. It means our voices can get louder shared from us individuals out into the community. It means people can become aware of the differences, challenges, that we live, that we exist amongst others with very different senses and energies. It means an awakening and a gushing forth of the way that was paved by those individuals before us that also dreamt and struggled and cried for the world. We represent them, and ourselves today and everyday that we speak up for a version of the truth that not everybody experiences. I am proud to be me.

[darkobssessions]

Day 1: Introduce Yourself

April 1st: Introduce yourself. Talk about who you are as a person. Your age, hobbies, special interests, family, etc. Anything you feel comfortable sharing.

Hi I'm fairy in human form, drawn from Celtic ancestry and fertile crescent roots. I'm 27, self diagnosed, only recently with every single thing about my life making sense in the context of this massive 'otherness' that has been with me my entire life. I am gifted with pattern recognition, detail orientation, and have always loved the design of small livable spaces, miniatures and gardens. I have spent countless hours drawing, researching, designing tiny clothing items, dreaming, decorating and studying and categorizing the world. In later years this was a love for the natural world that delved me into the study of life and everything that moves. I love biology, nutrition, neuroscience, the intersecting fields, and the fractals that inform all of the designs. Until a few months ago I thought I was an incredibly fractured and broken person due to having special interests in most about every field, being unable to 'make it' in a traditional way, feeling like an imposter and living with so many chronic conditions and comorbidities that it is a wonder I am alive. I am incredibly observant, sensitive and creative, and I am also system using, efficient and straightforward. I dream of creating my own systems that merge the incredible wealth of information that has always been available to my senses. Now, on day 1, I can tell you what an incredible relief it is for everything to fall into place, and how it explains the strange occurrences over the course of my life. The dropped friendships, missed cues and dangerous situations. Feeling out of place. Being gas lit and dismissed. Autism in females is real, it is my calling, every word I share now advocates for this incredibly nuanced way of seeing and being in the world and I am very excited to go on this journey with you. It feels like coming home! Alien afterall, outcast no more ❤️

[darkobssessions]

March 20th, 2021

Now I know what it is when the pressure builds up so much that I cannot breathe. When the words blend in together, a whirlwind of sound and colour. An internal stress that cannot be evaded, only felt. It is coming, the breakdown, the break out, the breakthrough. Like going through the eye of the needle, only to come out the other end thread, for the most beautiful of tapestries. But oh god, this eye is narrow. I just want this to stop. I cannot compute one more impulse, one more stimulus. And they wonder why I have been jobless over the years, in semi dark rooms, holding my body together with bruised knuckles. If you put too much pressure on the system, it borrows, from places it cannot afford to. Patch it up for long enough and soon it will begin to show, begin to shatter. This has been a long time coming. This rage that lives within is only a wounded animal because I live on improper limbs. I am a bird of paradise forced to perform, pruned and poorly dressed for the winter blues. I’m trapped in the dance and sway of the musical notes, trapped in how I feel that I cannot express, trapped by my own inability to learn trades such that I might share this sleeping giant, this genius mess. When you don’t have the tools it is as if you are mute, and still they say, you cannot possibly be handicapped because your mouth forms words. They might as well be gibberish. You don’t hear me. And we all, I once thought, live a pantomime and mockery of our true existences. But when I shared that with you you yelled at me for four hours straight. Every good and beautiful thing, every dream, every story, every poem that has ever existed, I could not possibly put them all into words, couldn’t possible brave the long night just to share it all with you, it will pass into this great night, and no one will have seen. It is my private show. It is my gift, given to me, but I have to share it, I cannot live a life of such intense secretive longing. Oh god if only one person would see, would feel the notes in my soul, would look kindly on this insanity, would feel the feeling expand and fill their heart chambers. If only I were a talented musician, an artist or a singer. So you could see in colour what passes through me in emotion, what makes itself known in nuance, pattern and spectrum. I hear the world’s heart beating, I feel you in colours, I can taste the codes that build up this universe. I am forever a servant and devotee of the sacred arts of watching life unfold. Do you not hear the mathematical code wrapping around our globe? I feel the dark night ticking away at computer codes of the specialist individuals, their song backend connections that make screens glow. I feel the architecture, sharp against the sky line. These are our anthems, and I say I am lonely in my gift to decipher. I want to be swept up in the colour, sound and motion and be found in a land where I can reach out and mold into the world the patterns and shapes in my psyche. I feel mute because I lack the tools, I long to be let loose. Is it code I need to learn, is it dance, is it a musical instrument, I cannot stay silent much longer. Why do we live in a world that is focused on productivity, what of the sheer joy of transducing messages, transcribing them into other media so that they might be seen and felt too. If I had been trained in the arts of stuffy board rooms or an open office plan with my sensory overload and anxious stares, would it be sheer joy of sharing what I know, or would I be a number, a unit, logging in for the day, producing an output in a dysfunctional hive. We are disconnected from what it feels to be really here, and at first, I thought, we all felt, but ignored. But someone has turned my senses on maximum, and left them there. I am drowning in a colorful, sensual, textured universe, we do not all live in the same place. How do I share with you my vision, since I have the gift of appearing normal before you. There are those from my tribe that cannot even look you in the eye long enough to assure you that your ignorance is costing lives. We are turned off by the mayhem, we are silently slaughtered along with all the creative impulse, bleeding into the sewers, sad tales of neglect and misunderstanding. Like a chemical slime, broken down to the most bare of constituents, we are coming together, classically alchemising the under belly of your daily grind. We are the foundation and the fertiliser for a life that many cannot imagine. I am the anthem of this hidden might, this spark, these fireflies come night. We are the song being sung, the dreams being dreamt, we are simply transmitting to you what you forgot. 

[darkobssessions]

Re: ‘Shopping’ Process (Research, Categorisation, Curation)

Not only do I go on this shopping app to research, categorise and curate, but my decision making process, honed from years of overwhelm, indecisiveness and attention to detail, involves comparing everything side by side, firstly, and then grouping them into categories, then addressing each category individually and coming up with a price quotient or score for the lot. The same is done for each group (sometimes this is a mental process, sometimes it is visual and on paper), and then I compare the groups, and come up with a overall price or score. We could put those through standard analysis to understand  potential reasons for doing it. Some might say what explains it is that I have limited funds allocated to making this choice, so clearly, I am trying to narrow my choice down to fit the current budget. While that is one of the reasons, it does not explain the behaviour entirely. I thought of it this way: If I currently had 500 pounds at my disposal on my card to be used for these items, I would not just load every single one into my cart and click by. That would seem like the easy answer, if it were solely budget informing my decisions. There’s something else going on. The creating complexity and categorising happens regardless of x I am trying to solve for, so to speak. They seem independent of the limits, beyond the scope of the paper I am solving on, They are tools and they are processes, and sometimes I choose when to use them, but mostly, they express themselves through me. If I could just buy every single item, I still wouldn’t, because they’re not all there for shopping purposes. Which is kind of crazy since it is a shopping app, and begs the question what more use could I possible get from such a thing? My previous post detailed that I am collecting, conducting research, forming opinions and making collections. I am also into the aesthetics and colours, it seems, and my entire process wouldn’t exist without any one of these levels. This makes me think that neurodiversity is not a flaw or some thing we need to ‘solve’, indeed it can never be ‘fixed.’ No matter what you gave me to work with, even if I were prescribed medications, my process, my system, my mind and body would work together to break it down and place it, just like any other thing. Has any medical professional thought of this systemic view when treating patients? Has your psychiatrist considered you might even metabolise so called treatments differently? Probably not. So let me have my categories and my online ‘research.’ I’m going to use this same process to bring vast areas of experience into awareness and optimise them, improving lives. This is not a disability. Me and others like me are necessary and brilliant components of this life. That being said, most environments invalidate and disable US. I have found that most things are thought up and put together by unimaginative people. We need their practicality, but without an eye for design, the understanding of systems and ambience, you risk creating cold, hard environments that keep most people stagnant, and discriminate against those that cannot fit into your boxes at all. In the dark, we have been fervently working. Excuse us while we restructure your world. Original post about the process: https://darkobssessions.tumblr.com/post/643554946410758144/do-i-need-help-or-is-this-part-of-what-makes-me

[humie]

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