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!


Finding My Voice

I started this blog to find my voice.

Let me clear this up. I can talk, speak, whatever. I’m talking about MY voice, my words!

Although I can speak and I have learned over the years what is expected (much like a dog would) but those things are learned. Just because I have the knowledge and abidance does not mean I actually mean the words and actions that come from within.

I have always felt that others, mainly my mom, has told me how to feel, act, think, etc. I always felt differently than I was told I felt. But I quickly learned I fit in much better when I just listened. But this became difficult and I began feeling like I was lost in the person I was.

Saying how I feel is not easy. Finding a way to put my own thoughts into words is hard for me. When I speak for myself I botch my feelings completely. I’m sure that is why people told me how I felt because they picked up on the difficulties I have finding my words and wanted to “help” me explain better. However they did not understand either.

Over the years, I have tried to voice myself in different ways. So far I have found that writing it helps me best. I know people get mad at me when I give them a letter but that is the only way I can speak my thoughts. It’s difficult for me to find the words to say, let alone the courage, since I know it bothers them. It would be nice if people would be a little kinder and understand this is not idea but its the only way for me. I wish that I could be snappy and blurt out what I want to say in a split second notice, like they do. I’ve tried. I’m a mean, mean, person when I do that. My voice stern, my choice of words are not well thought out and do not always reflect the clearest picture of my thoughts and they come out seeming kind of mean. I get drained much faster and I will end up melting down, if I did this too much.

Sometimes my voice is just silence. Sometimes I don’t feel a response is needed and feel that no voice is the best voice. I’m sorry if you expected me to reply to something you said. If you do not ask me a question, or ask me what I think, do not get mad at me when I do not respond. The same thing is reverse, people get when I answer them when they did not ask anything.


I love this image. This is how I feel. Most of my friends are inside my computer too. In fact I’d probably be very anti-social (more than I already am) if it were not for the computer and facebook.

Adult: Sexual or nonsexual

“Sex is beautiful and natural and everyone wants to have sex so it’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

And I agree, sex is nothing to be ashamed of. But there’s one little detail there: not everyone wants sex or gets pleasure from it. They’re roughly 1% of the population. And with 7 billion people on the planet, 1% equals 70,000,000. Seventy million people is a lot of experiences to erase.

So, roughly 70,000,000 people on this planet don’t want sex. Or they want sex in certain contexts. Or they kind of sometimes want sex but not often. Or they have sex to satisfy a partner, but don’t get much out of it for themselves. Or they have a sex drive, just… not towards other people. Or they can’t stand the thought of sex.

And that’s okay too.

Sex positivity for me is accepting that whether you have sex a lot, or you never have sex, whether you have a million kinks or you can’t stand sex outside the missionary position, whether you are gay, straight, bisexual, pansexual, omnisexual, sapiosexual, autosexual, objectumsexual, or asexual, the way you look at sex and attraction is valid and normal, as long as it’s not hurting anyone.

via I am. I am. I am.

Whirling Twirling Around

I’m here.

I’m there.

Wait… you missed me. Now I’m over here.

I’m all over the place. Fuck this world spins too fast sometimes.

Chaos feels my head this summer. So many “changes,” so little time. SO many pushy people and nowhere to run.

I’m desperately seeking my escape but can seem to grasp something long enough to hold my attention. I twirl, whirl, all around looking for my next niche to bury myself into, abandoning the others once loved interests. I’m sure once the dust starts to settle and the air clears I will see them in the rear view and find my way back to some of them. I guess in the mean time I will just twirl around jerking the e-brake for a spontaneous sideways drift that fills my mind with overload and chaos.

When you throw it back in my face…

I’m least likely to share things with you anymore. I have been picked on my entire life because people do not agree with my way or my point of view. Maybe nothing is ‘wrong’ with me. Maybe it’s just them.

I have a tenancy to cut people out of my life. Just. Like. That. I don’t just do it for no reason. Their is always reason but I typically do not bother sharing the reason why. I do not see a point in telling them. It’s not something negotiable. I’m not giving any extra chances to prove their self to me. It’s not going to be pretty. So why bother? Just fuck off, yo! You’ll get the hint.

People = Unhappy Drama (why I say no thanks)

It just seems as nobody can keep me happy with them. I attract assholes and rejects. I’m surrounded by them. Not a soul around me understands me. All of them seem like they are around me for their own selfish reasons. They all seem to be a bunch of button mashers and I’m tired of having my triggers going off because others want to place their own unhappiness on me. I don’t make you unhappy. You make you unhappy. If I make you so damn unhappy…. walk away. Remember I’m fine alone. I like it like that. I rarely piss myself off but others are a different story…

I do not feel good and I’m not in the mood to play a game of charades with you. And yelling at me or talking too loud,aggressively, toward me – is a sure one way ride…. right out the front door.

Most people irritate me and I like to spend most of my time alone because of it.

Look at me while I misunderstand you: An Aspie/NT Morning

Look at me while I misunderstand you

– Blog: 30 Days of Autism


What I’d do for a {Klondike Bar}…

Let me start by saying I can not resist the urge to say shit stuff like the title of this post. I was simple going to say “What I’d do for a…” Then my brain had to dig up an old memory of that stupid Klondike commercial from the late 80’s & early 90’s. It seems foolish that I can remember the jingle from way back when I can remember what all I need to do tomorrow. Nuff said. ~

I’d do just about anything  to spend time outside with my kids, without feeling so over whelmed with my surroundings. I would be so nice to maybe resist the urge to “do something” and enjoy those little moments with my kids doing “nothing” but do “everything” in their eyes.

I often feel like I’m in another world watching them play. Watching them while “do something.” or rocking back and forth in my swing, just starring. Something other than spend quality time with them. I want to be with them. As in actually being there with them and not alone in a world somewhere with this head of mine. I can’t seem to find a way to pull myself out of my world and interact with them like I want to. When I do pull myself out, it seems that one of us gets annoyed with the other and I scare myself back in the the shell I was in. I have a major hard time communicating. I really am just seeing how bad it really is. Of course, I’ve known this almost forever but now I see it more so.


When mommy doesn’t talk

I’d like to think that I have came along way since being the awkward child I once was. But then I missed one little detail that’s huge that suddenly bring me back to reality and that my weirdo guard can never be let down.

My mommy doesn’t talk much. She is usually quite and rarely responds to anything. It makes me feel like my mommy just don’t listen to me much.

— The words of my sweet little 8 year old daughter

I heard my daughter say this the other day. These words break my heart.

I try so damn hard to be a good mom to my kids. Often times I don’t respond. I see that. I can blurt out off the wall shit when I fell forced to speak or attempt to comment about everything. The world really does not want to know what I think at the very second!

In my defense: At the time, I didn’t see that a response was needed or I did not know what to say so I was quit. I need to work on this. I LOL in my head wondering what kind of crazy woman I look like sitting quietly not responding when I was expected to. I need to show her someway I hear what she says I love her sweet little voice and I hear every word she says even when it starts converting to random blabber to my brain. I would never tell her that last part. It’s not her, its everyone. My brain can only process so much. I hear it all, I really do, but I can’t make it all out and that’s why I seek the point so quickly.

Trapped behind the two-way mirror

As a teen I often cried out for help. Nobody ever heard a damn scream. People walked out on me. Moms moved be away from the few friends I actually made. It seemed like I screamed and I was punished.

My mom would tell me how I felt and what to do or what not to do. I felt lost. I walked around unable to be myself. Nobody seemed to like me and my own mom didn’t entirely approve or accept me unless she controlled the strings above me.

Regardless I choose not to listen to her or I didn’t fully understand what she wanted me to do or WHY. It was often WHY. It made little since but not enough to fully but the pieces together. I could see she was upset but I did not know WHY. I could tell she wanted me at school but I couldn’t figure out WHY. Other times I would see something entirely different. I guess it looked much different from where I sat.

I beat on this damn two way mirror for years. Someone has gotta hear my cries for help. Nope. Mom shipped me back to my asshole dad. Still to this say I find it odd. I mean, I don’t care, but – whoa! Everything she wanted me to do – or – not do would be completely out the window with him.

This is the guy that was in jail for several weeks while my bub and I carried on with life. One day, we were being goofy as usually. Neither of us are sure who figured it out, but it had downed on us that he had not been home in at least 3 weeks. It very well may have been longer but 3 weeks we were certain of. In took another two weeks before we bothered calling his last know place to see if they seen him. I’m not sure if it was the fact that we neither saw a need, after all nobody told us that is what we should have did in a situation like that. My neighbor actually asked me to do it. I brushed it off, nah he’ll come back when he runs out of money.

A few days later, I called his mom, Grandma have you saw my father? Well he was here a few weeks ago, she told me. Hahaha I bout feel out laughing. What a fucking bitch I am. Thank goodness I can control this a little better now. It’s still there. My mom tried to take it out of me, telling me I didn’t feel this way or think like that.

Anyways, I told my bub what Grams had said. Somehow he tracked him down a little further. He was gone a total of 2 months. He lost his job and had spend 2 months in jail waiting a life time sentence for something he did not do. Someone posted bail and he was then able to contact someone who could contact us. We had a phone but neither of us bothered to answer it much. I was even off the hook a lot.

By the point was he was not a father kind of guy. We did not notice he was missing because it was typical. We did what we wanted and we survived on our own. My bub and I had each other that’s about it. He’s 10 years older than me and really messed up. Yup even more than me. I was always the responsible one who acted reasonably keeping us out of harms way while lifting in utter chaos.

How did we live with the chaos and the bullshit at home? We altered our state of mind. (My bubs life was really fucked up because of his extreame choices.) I took the low road, I can really transform with some alcohol. I became depend on it to a point. Not addicted. I need to socialize, I needed to speak, I could only find the strength to do this when I was fucked up. Yes I slurred, I’d walk sideways, and fall on my ass a lot. But I could find the voice to speak just enough to get me by. I do not depend on drinking. In fact, I do not really like it. Holy shit neither does my boyfriend. His friends seem to like the drunken me but he hates it. Note I do not see this. I do not see what I do or say that is so wrong with a few drinks once or twice a year. But he has made it clear he does not like it, what ever it is! His friends would say hey your different when you drink, we are going to get you to do this more often. He storms out pounding shit as he leaves. What!

I don’t know I used to have the just think it was because he was used to me not talking to them and when I did it would piss him off. I don’t know. It always confused me that he would tell me to just go and fuck them or marry them or something. I don’t get that either. I was not close to them. They were across the room, he was with us. I thought we were having a good time.

One thing that has makes people asked me lots of questions when I drink is how I can “out drink” the guys. How can someone twice my size be drunk and I’m not. We drank the same stuff, shot for shot. Why is he sick and I’m not hardly feeling a thing. I also don’t wake up sick. After I drink all night I don’t feel my best but I’m for sure not hugging the toilet or thanking it for being cold.

So what I’m saying is I felt like I was stuck inside with this lame ass bitch controlling me. I wanted to have fun the “real” me on the inside was much cooler much more interesting, not uptight, did not speak so differently, she got the jokes and laughter her ass off. She liked to go out have fun, flirt with the guys, be a nasty bitch to the woman who shrugged her off, take their boyfriend, ETC. But she wasn’t all bad but she was in there and she wanted out to have fun and life life up better than the controlled.

I now think that was just me. No I know that was me. I had trouble communicating with myself too. Knowing who I was where I belonged. I wanted to have fun but that fun did not mean I had to go to a club or be drunk. I just needed to find the way to express myself to communicate with the world that person on the other side of the wall was my frustration beating on the mirrored glass saying hey I’m speaking, I know you don’t understand me, and I don’t fully understand you either. I have picked up one things and tried to figure it out but I don’t think I quit got it right. I’m fun, give me a chance, get to know me. I know we don’t talk the same talk, we don’t walk the same walk. But I’m just as fun once you find me in here!

An Older Aspie Mum

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Tania A. Marshall, M.Sc.

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