I don’t know – I’m not lying.

Frustrated. Very frustrated. My entire life has been a huge finding me seek. I think I found it and then I’m suddenly detouring down another path after becoming so board. I won’t flip flop but more a subtle turn.

Barely a year – into knowing I’m one of the few adults who received a diagnosis and I feel more frustrated today than ever before. Now I feel like I’m under the watch of others as I scam to pick up the pieces to find who I am and announce it to the world with expression. The thing is – I know who I am. I’ve always known, really. I didn’t know then, I knew because I could not say I knew. Confused yet?!

My moods vary and this is confusing not only to me but others as well. I okay with it. All my moods make up me but they vary as if I’m a misfit.


Think puzzle factory mixing up many puzzle pictures. All used the same die to cut the shapes but each has a different piece. While I’m a completed puzzle, I don’t quite match. My whole completed picture just isn’t right!! We have a sky piece and a pumpkin eye next to firework sparks. I’m sure everyone has multiside/moods but I can not express myself in a way that is sublet to blend in and standout in a nice even, balanced way. The puzzle gets funny looks when the pieces don’t match. I want to blend in – however I want to be heard too.

I’m frustrated because I can not find those words I need to express myself.

One of my biggest problems, my cluelessness to the world. I starting to see this now.

You can ask me to answer a question that is true and a fact only I can know. I will tell you I do not know because I never gave it thought. I will not be able to answer you until I go home – and think about it. It may be hours or days later before I finally figure it out.

I need that time! For me, I didn’t need to think of it. I knew it – but I somehow did not pick up on it until I later wrecked my mind to replay it all and then find the words that best describe it.

Sometimes I don’t get jokes and I don’t pick up on sarcasm. Sometimes I trust (or don’t trust) when I need to do the other – but how can I be just as blind to the subtle gestures in my very own mind as I am in this world? Or be so blind that I can not answer such factish questions about myself?!

The good thing is at least I have my database backed up and can access the info. Sometimes I’m not able to do that in this world, especially when the chaos follows me.

So I’m not lying I just did not process the info you requested. I need to gather my thoughts to be able to answer it correctly. I guess my mind saw that part of life as unimportant white noise and stored it in the recycle bin (good thing I don’t cclean it too!)

I’m autistic even in my world! Perhaps subtle things get past me in my (odd coffee filter) mind and other subtle things still annoy the shit out of me in both worlds. 🙂




I’m sorry…

I’m sorry… I sit and stare at you until you tell at me to stop.

I’m sorry… you say you love me and I look right thru you. I heard you and I love you back – I know you “need” to hear that, I sometimes forget in the moment.

I’m sorry… you needed a hug and you jumped in to get one and I moved you out of the way and continued the path I was on.

I’m sorry… you talk to me and I look over your shoulder and notice the stain that is on the curtain.

I’m sorry… the stain seems more important than what you were saying. I just don’t belong there and that disturbs my world. I’m sorry its not an excuse but more of an explanation I feel I owe to you.

I’m sorry… I snarled my lip at the surprise.

I’m sorry… I look at you when you conversate with me. I’m my mind I replied to you. I projected the thoughts threw the air. Unforchantly you and I don’t always speak the same language and all you see is me staring blankly at you. I attempted to convert my response to words but it just didn’t happen. Sometimes I can not find the words. Sometimes I forget the word. Sometimes echo meanless words I’ve heard elsewhere in a moment of panic like some verbal stage fright. Sometimes I’m too exhausted or too ignored. Other times I find it too much work or fear that it will lead to more talking or worse arguing. Many times I feel a response was not needed or the topic does not effect me enough to speak. Other times I feel like I’ve already said that and there’s no need in repeating it again.

I’m sorry… you looked at my screen without warning and I jumped and hit what I was writing. I’m not cheating on you or hiding things from you, necessarily I just caught me off guard. I was not expecting it.

I’m sorry… that I appear secretive and that bothers you. I love you and I share more with you than ANYONE ELSE. That itself is HUGE. Trust me when I say I need this privacy. I have a quirky little thing about allowing one person to know EVERYTHING. It just can not happen… I’d say I can tell you but then I’d have to kill you but that’s not true… but I would have to be extreme and unpredictable in order to do something you do NOT know to settle that imbalance void I MUST have!

I’m sorry… I do most of my talking at night when you are falling asleep.

I’m sorry… you say I’m sexy and I look at you funny.

I’m sorry… my face never aligns to my true feelings or mood.

I’m sorry… I’m so stubborn. Things have to make sense to me first.

I’m sorry… I pet the cat more than I do you. You are manly and rough the cat is soft and fluffy and never grabs or pets me in return. Again no excuse just explaining why it is what it is.

I’m sorry… I asked the same things several times.

I’m sorry… I’m sorry BUT

I’m not sorry I’m just being me!! If you want someone to do those things you will need to find someone else that is able to. But because you love some of the strange things I do (not listed above) that no normal chic can do!! I know you except me for me and I accept you for you – our flaws and all! 🙂


Life folding


This is what best describes my life right now. I have faked my abilities as long as I could. I pretended and fooled the world with my ninja faking skills all the way until the end. The deck is complete, the last card placed on the house. I take a step back and admire my work. But in the blink of an eye the house crumbles.

I guess what I’m trying to say is my card house is just a fake house built out of cards. No matter how good I made it, its just a card house and as far as I know, nobody can live in one. That’s pretty much how my life is. I have pretended and faked my way to the top and I do not have a next move.

When I was a girl, I would look weird, walking in line with the rest of my class, jumping from crack-to-crack. I was trying to step on the cracks in the “correct” spot, just so, ensuring that the left foot felt exactly the same as the right foot. It was a game, a game I MUST do. It was both soothing and frustrating but its what got me from point a to point b when I was actually in with the regular class for part of the day. My teachers had to notice my unusual behavior but they knew I was a quirky special ed student, so they never said anything about it or appeared to notice. Or did they and I just failed to notice them noticing me?!

I recall a day when a girl in line near me jumped in my way causing me to miss my move. I did not say anything. I never said much. Back and forth talking seemed useless and I felt it was a “waste” of my precious voice. As if, a voice was something I could run out of by using too much! We were getting close to the music trailer and I knew I must act fast to “catch up” on that missed move. Left foot needs two cracks near the toes to match the right. But I must carry on the left right left pattern and make up the difference BEFORE the stop. I’m guessing my behavior became more abnormal as the girl continued to poke fun at me. This time stepping on my shoes and “cutting” in front of me to slam on the breaks at the cracks and when I’d crash into her she would stomp on my feet. Then as we walked into music she asked why I was such a freak. The teacher must have heard her because she was pulled a side. I heard her arguing her side as I placed my hands on my ears trying to drown out the rest of the class practicing rhythm in the form of whacking two sticks together. The girl asked if I was happy now in a smart alecky voice. I did not catch on but I was happy and happily said yes. At the last crack I completed my game and my feet for even! So yes, I was happy! 🙂

The teacher returned, she went to the music teacher and whispered something to her, she then came and tapped me on the shoulder and had me leave. I started to wonder if I was in trouble is that what that smart elkie girl had was talking about. The teacher did not speak a word to me as she walked in front of me. I was trying not to step on any cracks along the way because that was easier than catching up. Besides my mind was elsewhere. What did I do? She lead me to my other classroom where I was not scheduled to go until later that day. I was the only one in there. The teacher finally spoke and asked what I like to do best in there? I stood quiet and looking around. The room was different  I guess it just felt that way since the teacher and other students where not there. I pointed to the large apple computer that sat together in a row along the wall. She walked over to it pushing a button or two  and checking the plugin and announced she’d be right back as she walked out. She was taking to long. I was now in the mood to play one of those silly number muncher games. I walked turned the computer on. Found my game, loaded it up and was quietly playing it when the teacher returned asking what else I’d like to do before realizing I had turned on the system myself. She sad down beside me as I clicked away on the keyboard not missing a beat. She was amazed and asked how I knew how to do that?

Now that I’m older I assume she was missing her break. I smile now and wish I didn’t live 900 miles away from the school and wish that I could actually remember what her name was or even what she looked like. I’d love to tell her thanks for being kind to me that day. I’d love to tell her how much computer are a part of my life and that I know she ate her lunch in that room because she was amazed at what I was doing. Until that point she probably assumed I was helpless and I would grow up needing to be saved regularly for the rest of my life. Then I had no clue but not long after I started noticing more things like this and the little girl who thought I was weird.

Later on in the year, I concealed my game I took a val to only play it at home or on the way to or from school. And secretly when I was walking without my class! I was proud I had worked hard not being weird and felt I was not weird anymore! For several days, I was not in my contained class. I was going outside for recess and I watched the girls playing games. I saw my chance to jump in and play too and was quickly rejected. Apparently they had a secret meeting to not allow me in the snotty girls club. Girls were so mean. So nasty. They would say snarly things I would not get the meaning then they would laugh at me for not understanding. While I had my share of bullies and have been hit the mental abuse from these snarly little girls was the worst by far. It scared the insides and stuck with me forever.

I learned valuable life lessons from it all. I learned to build up a shell and fuck the world in whole attitude. Trust no one. Only fear, fear and expect the unexpected. Stop look and listen and ask yourself how could this be bad. Not that I’m negative or look for the bad in others just to please myself. I do it in self defense as a way of life and being able to survive. I’m at a disadvantage and this stratagus is all I know, from experience.

Autistic? My kid is just a spoiled brat who would get better if we would just (fill in the blank)….

As a parent with a child on the spectrum, I’m annoyed by these kind of comments, like most other parents in shoes like mine (ha we must shop at the same place!)

I love my mom. Really she’s one of the few people who get me. I feel comfortable with her. Not completely but she’s able to be those pieces that fill the blank spots when others don’t come close.

One thing she never got was my autism. As her only child she assumed she just spoiled me. That perhaps if she would have just done *fill in the blank* I would have been different.

When the school suggested something wasn’t right she was defensive. She saw a smart kid. A kid that was advanced at xyz and learned easily with her non professionally teaching me… and if I was having problems learning abc… perhaps the teachers were not professionally trained or doing their jobs.

When they begged her to test me. She angrily declined.

Yes I was smart in areas but I struggled in others. Yes I was spoiled but I was not just being a spoiled brat. Everything had a purpose. Everything needed to be so… EVERYTHING. Play. School. Friends. Sleep. Breathing. Clothing. Shoes. EVERYTHING! It not needed to be a “good” reason to you. I didn’t need to be acceptable either.

When the suggested placing me in the seclusion class anyway, she flipped out. Whoa I remember being there for that meeting.

An IEP was put in place for me. A few teachers requested it on my behalf. I team was created and I assume knowing what I know about my own child’s “team” and what they can and cannot do; she was invited to “join” the “team” but the team can still move on without her. Again I assume this is where she was “forced” to consent.

I finally was able to get minimum services through the school. But I missed out on so much. I wish my mom could have accepted me and not fought to not get me help. I needed help. Now that I’m an adult I struggle each and every day, in silence, unable to deal with the chaos in the real world.

Mom spanking me would not have worked. When you gave into my quirk request from frustration  you were not being a bad mom. You were doing the natural thing. I needed to sooth myself and by hitting me, again, or re-spanking me, you fixed the problem that I needed. I would not have stopped. I would not have given up. I can tell you now I could outlast you and run circles around you. To me it makes since. I don’t expect you to make since of it or my autism but simply to accept it.

I’m not afraid …

I’m not afraid of the smallest change. I change things…. But then I stay up late and worry about having done that. 🙂

Frustrated Nonfunctional

So frustrated. I don’t even know where to begin, where to start, how to even present what I’m talking about. Inside I scream, “HELP” but nothing comes out. Nothing gets done. I know what needs done but I am unable to manage. I feel over loaded. I feel incapable. Interruptions cause chaos  Everything causes chaos  My life is full of chaos

As you may guess, chaos and aspies don’t mix well. And well, that’s where I’m at. I feel like I’m not mixing well in life. I’m not fitting in. Nothing is working smoothly. Everyday is a struggle. Why I don’t know. I’m not sure where the problem is. I’m not sure where I’m stuck but I don’t like the feeling. Not one bit.  I find myself numb and just wanting to escape I’m not depressed. I do not feel sad. But I try to escape the chaos life has became and drift into my own world where chaos is limited . I know it does not help any. I does not fix anything. Its just a band-aid that I know needs to be corrected, somehow. But until I figure out how I’m trapped between worlds. I’d like to join my family here on earth but the portal to me land looks much more pleasant and kind.

Some days are so bad. Some days I walk in reality. I’m unhappy with the clutter in my home and the items “out of place” at the hands of my little darlings. I want to declutter and asking someone to help means they will mess with my stuff. Which is no good in my head they will move it somewhere and I will not be able to find it. Or they will put it some place it does not “belong” or worse throw it out. Me doing it myself is overwhelming to say the least. I start having a hard time making decisions.

Some days I hear screaming, arguing, loud angry voices, back and forth between little people. Huh I should step in and teach my kids a thing or two. I do. 5 minutes late its the same thing. Frustrated and pending full mommy looks like a toddler meltdown I cover my ears and try to block it out until it stops. Then try again before I dash toward the portal into my own little world. Even if it stops now I will be off balanced for hours if not the whole day.

Some days my phone rings, then a text, before I know it days have pasted and I have 8 voice mails of family telling me to answer my phone. I absolutely HATE the phone. Its ok if I called but when someone calls me they are ALWAYS interrupting me. I’m always busy so if I didn’t call I guess that makes since but they don’t seem to get that.

One thing that is a problem is my inability to sleep. My mind never stops. Never I wake up, roll over and my mind is racing. One of the few times my mind rests is when I escape into a fixation of numbers or patterns. Crossing the t’s, dotting the i’s, filling in the o’s. Playing the dumb box tops chex mix game. That is the only time my brain “rests”.

I scream but nobody hears

I scream who I am, but nobody hears. I scream what I am, why I am, because I am, but the echos go unheard; and misunderstood.

I’m much more than the surface shows. I have a personality. I have reasons. I have wants and needs just like everyone else.

It’s not often, I want to share more than the surface shows. But when I do  – no one is here to hear what I say.

The way I communicate is probably much of the reason. But its all I know. This is the only language I speak and now I’m figuring out I’m the only one who knows the basic grammar on the language I scream.

I pretend so much. I avoid so much. Even my best friend don’t know me like he used to. He got me before. Well more than most. Now he knows the least. He’s right there above the stranger in the store than stairs at me while I nervously tremble, sweat building up under my pour, fighting to stay “logged in” while I eagerly count the seconds until I’m  save to shut down.

The more I explain, the harder I try… the less I’m heard and the more I’m more than just a misfit. The anxiety that is triggered by this all…  I remember why I stopped talking and trying to get it out. My best friend and my mom both my besties kill me, shoot me dead. Bang, Bang.

Then BAM happy little world. I get on a high with myself excited about something I latched on to for my new interest. In hear everything makes sense.

Was that it? Was my best friend, the father of my children, only my interest for the past 10 years? Did I complete it? That’s it? WTF!? Have I lost interest? Yeah so I know I have  lost some interest. I’ve grown very board and unsatisfied… But this is everything against human nature. Am I really that alien-like?! Nah, but I am maxed-out, and he’s not “getting” me. He’s not making the right effort. He’s not keeping my interest, any longer. Instead of the want, it’s now much more chore or work, but without a paycheck or reward, without a “purpose” – at least one that satisfies me and makes me want to…. $%^&*#$%

I float and drift through lots but sometimes I need to release more creative energy and he’s been pushing me down and pulling the plug on it. It don’t make sense to me I have not fully decoded it so I can not explain anymore but I’m feeling explosive!


Here are a few of my favorites…


  • The locks and alarms on your doors are similar to those on prison cells.
  • Your child can have the same thing for lunch every day and always enjoy it.
  • You are no longer alarmed by piercing, high pitched screams but only by the sound of broken glass.
  • The definition of a clean house is now, one that doesn’t have an overflowing trash can, dishes in the sink are rinsed, and laundry is at least in the hamper or in the basket.
  • Someone walks into your house and asks if you live in a dangerous neighborhood and you say no… the window locks, gate locks and three types of door locks are to keep my kid in… not bad guys out.
  • You can communicate with your non-verbal child without using words, PECS or sign language.
  • You still have to tie your teenagers shoe laces.
  • You have holes in your walls that were caused by your child’s head during meltdowns.
  • You know your child pooped…you just don’t know where.
And this one is more like me than him – he just has to eat his food in a particular order.
Your child has to sort his fruit loop cereals according to colors before eating them.
This is a partial list from the Facebook page Single Mothers who have Children with Autism.Visit the site to view the complete list!

Sibling Resource- Part 1

Something for the sibs

via Sibling Resource- Part 1.

I love him, I love him not

I’m sure that I am not an easy one to live with. I’ve been told. My mom was eager to get me out, even before I was 18. I graduated High School at 18, with an apartment.

Since then I’ve been independant. My whole like I had people making choices for me and now I could do it for myself. I didn’t like the change at first. I missed sleeping with my mom. I missed the smell of her house. I missed my mommy. But once I got settled, I got set in my ways. Hey if I want the table here. Here is were it will go. If I need the couch and chair to line up – fine – Its mine!

But then I met him… he lived with him mom and pops, never had what I had. He was childish, outgoing, and fun. Something I desired. Something I was not but not by choice. Remember I never knew why I was the way I was. Always happy with myself I saw I was different and I saw that I was the same. Nobody could ever see that. Nobody could see this side of me because it hid inside and masked itself in a quirky artistic way. So I hung out with you and we had a really great time. You were my best friend. What you don’t know my name? You asked me hey aren’t you that girl at my school. So maybe it was just me having a good time watching you have a good time. I was posted on the wall like the fly. It was the best time of my life.

Well when I met him , he made me feel like that but he remembered my name. I may have been a fly on the wall but he noticed me and played with me. He kept the conversation going. When he was loud it was goofy stuff and it made me laugh. I never laughed before unless it was me being the “funny” one with my bbf (my true friend that saw past the shell) or my bub that was stranger than I. He could be somewhat obnoxious and it was awesome to have that taken from me and be able to find humor in it.

But then somewhere things changed. Me saying shit thats down right mean because I thought thats they way to but the way I felt into human words. And the lack of shutdown time. I needed recharged and I didn’t and still do not know how to get this out (well I think I do but nobody listens- so I guess its not quite right) .

I want a family. I have a family. But I feel like I’m doing in alone with him watching. I’m the watcher and if I’m not watching get your ass up here with me. I’m tired of not being heard. Hes tired of me not talkin or “bitching.” I see it as I’m right and honestly I’m not willing to change much. I’m me. I’m who I have always been. He is the one that changed. The only change is he has not grown up any. Except hes mean now and it rare that hes funny. Its not cute being a kid when you have kids.

gwigfwgf gfuegfi nothing got out. Not only can I not talk but I can’t seem to get it out anywhere other than my head -Which BTW fully understands. Since he has came back – I’m not so happy. He yells a lot. He scares me – no startles me. He touches me. He asked me what I’m doing and makes me want to stop doing anything. (I don’t know why) He makes me feel down. I’m not a down person although I appear to others as a sad depressed person. (But I am not!) He says stuff he don’t mean and then he don’t follow through. If you say you want to leave and move out this weekend – of course come Monday I wonder WTF you are doing here. Wait what monday? Fuck. This shit confuses me. We certainly did not make up. I went to sleep I woke up. Nothing changed. I don’t understand this crap. He says to tell him when I need help. I was raised that a “real” man would do it when he was it was needed. But I compromised and started asking him. He ignores me or complains or acts like a hooker that would only do whatever if I gave him something. Huh. Now we have two problems you were a lazy fucking loser who was not man enough to do the “dirty” work and you ignored me. Then you are made when I do it myself and other guys asked what the fuck is wrong with my so called man. Then you get mad when they help me do what you should have done. And he call him my boyfriend or start stuff with them. Or wait you didn’t want it done at all. I’m confused. Man up or get over it.

An Older Aspie Mum

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