I didn’t know there were actual stim toys available for sale! -Cut for length-
Tell me it wasn’t all for nothing
The wind blowing through my hair
The leaves falling, golden and crisp
Tell me this was for something
The endless nights
The tears streaming down my cheeks
The hours spent focusing a wandering mind
Don’t say there was no point
To fireflies and chilled campus walks
Trees and birdfeeders
A squirrel with no tail
Tell me there was some purpose
To cafeteria trays and tang
Full of ants
Tables with set groups
Don’t tell me.
Every sound wave
For future regurgitation
Flashes of faces, papers, books
72 steps to my floor
4 minute burn time
Fighting. Dorm mom and tears. Clear shower doors.
People yelling “FLUSH”
Sex so loud music couldn’t drown it
Don’t tell me this was for nothing.
Dreaming in an unlearned foreign language
Cold and alone and numb
Exhausted beyond tears, beyond sleep
Windows with light filtering in through the tree branches
Tapping keys, dusty pages, the smell of coffee
Trying to fly you here.
Waiting for you.
Writing you Every. Day. And. Night.
Dedicating my life for our future.
I hear your voice but I can’t find you.
You can’t find me.
These tears are mine
…I thought. They are yours.
My arms outstretched
Through the sky and clouds
Blue rolling on and on and on
Lead me Home. Just lead me Home.
It’s 5:11 a.m. and I cannot sleep. I’ve been trying since around 1 a.m. It’s ironic, because I had even set aside a really complicated sketch I was working on for the sake of sleep.
I guess I am too nervous about tomorrow. I’m flying out tomorrow, for my grandpa’s memorial.
- I have issues with executive functioning, so packing is always an issue.
- My mom did talk me through some of it over the phone earlier. But in truth, I only gathered some clothes so far. I couldn’t bring my mind to think about it.
- I’m flying. Which brings up its own bag of worms (actually, I’d like a bag of worms).
- My worst-ever panic attack occurred on an airplane.
- It was before I had accepted any anti-anxiety medicines (STUPID!).
- The flight attendants offered me oxygen.
- Although before that happened, flying was my favorite thing to do and I dreamed of being a then-called stewardess, one panic attack can change all of that.
- Now I always feel really pleased with myself if I make it through a flight without taking anxiety medicine. (Why do I torture myself with trying it?! I can go from handling it to being scared out of my pants in about 1 second flat.)
- My worst-ever panic attack occurred on an airplane.
- I’m just scared.
- Of the change in routine, I guess.
- Scared of the unknown.
- Seeing people I don’t normally get to see.
- Attending a memorial I haven’t mentally prepared for yet.
- I never submitted any of my memories of him for the book they’re preparing. 😦
- I’m getting up in 2 hours for a doctor appointment. I apparently decided, why make a normal appointment for half the price when I can instead wait to the last second before travel and see an urgent care doctor for extra$$$ for something that’s been bugging me for two months??!
- Maybe after the appointment, I can finish packing and then NAP until my flight, since I’m obviously not going to get a whole lot of sleeping in between now and my appointment.
I’ve been down again lately. It feels like it’s gone on forever, but maybe I’m mistaken.
I don’t want to ever step foot back at work again. I’ve definitely got a “thing” about that place now.
My other contract is ending at the end of this month. Actually, that means my mom won’t let me nap tomorrow because she’ll insist I work on that contract… which would be the ethically correct thing to do. But I’m so scared about the fact that I can’t sleep. I didn’t do too badly on that contract, but the time period’s nearly over and there’s still like a day’s worth of work to do on it. Two days if I’m unproductive.
Please let me out of this job. I don’t want to ever go back. One of my aunts apparently told my mom that if I can make it through for another month or two, things will be all better. But OMFG WHY DO I HAVE TO MAKE IT THROUGH ONE OR TWO MORE MONTHS of it?! (2 reasons: One, the pay is better than most other jobs I could get, and two, I could opt for significantly cheaper health insurance through it)
I haven’t really written here that there’s been a helluva lot of inner turmoil at work. A helluva lot. It’s basically destroyed my home life. For the past however long it’s been, that’s what all the yelling and crap has been about – it’s all been work related. And when there wasn’t yelling, my uncle had stopped being able to talk with me or anything because he had to focus on contracts and all sorts of things he had to research. He didn’t tell me what was going on, and in fact did try to hide the yelling from me at first, but frankly when the walls shake from your voice, there’s no hiding it. That’s when I put in the earplugs and whatnot.
But I can’t take it. You’ve changed. I’m depressed. I’m scared of work, scared of the turmoil, scared of people resenting each other and doing things behind other people’s backs. Scared of the fact that one of them told several of the other employees what’s going on but I was still in the dark, as I was supposed to be (it really isn’t my business as an employee there). Sick. I’m just sick. I’m literally getting over my virus.
But I’m more than physically sick. I feel like all the light and all the hope of this life is just gone. Like I have nothing to look forward to again. Like every moment is a torment and I can’t feel rest and I can’t feel secure and I can’t feel loved. Listless and pointless.
But I’m glad I took Bailey to the dog park today. I needed the exercise (I had slept for virtually 4 days straight without a speck of exercise). But I feel so sick to my stomach right now. Bailey was very good with all of the different dogs and all of the people…except for her ability to sniff out each person who had treats. Silly food hog. It was cute, but I literally had to take her to the other side of the dog park because this really nice lady wouldn’t stop giving her treats! (Bailey has a fat-roll issue, for those wondering why that would be a problem. 😉 )
Don’t read on if you’re emetophobic or otherwise squeamish: Continue reading
I can’t sleep because my throat is sore, and because I’m thinking of something kind of negative and it just keeps replaying in my mind. I had tried to hug my uncle goodnight tonight and he acted really uncomfortable. I’ve fucked something up somewhere along the way. I hadn’t expected it to be a big deal because he’d hugged other people earlier in the day. Where have I gone wrong? (Actually, I suspect I know.)
Oh well, you know? Got to let it go. Got to get touch from somewhere else. (I could hire someone from TaskRabbit to give me a hug every day 😉 ….I’m joking. Barely. But I am.) I might look into buying a weighted blanket, too. My skin is absolutely in agony right now and I just really need a hug. My now-ex husband used to just lay on top of me (non-sexual) when I felt this way. I just need the sensation. I need Temple Grandin’s squeeze machine. My eyes are tearing up. I don’t really know what to do for it in the meanwhile. I have three heavy blankets on me right now. I used to sleep with 7 heavy blankets on me.
I’ll go ahead and order a weighted blanket right now. I hope they’re not too expensive.
In other, yet connected, news, I have made my online account at the dating site and have gotten to chat with a couple of people so far. One of them, just by chance, has Asperger syndrome too! We chatted for freaking hours tonight. It was awesome. We totally geeked out and were talking Sci-Fi and stuff. He happens to be a huge fan of my favorite ever series, which is really rare. I’m going to keep screening him online for a while, but I have a feeling that eventually he and I will meet up and go bicycling together.
And yes, I have, in the past, accepted undesired sexual touch when that was all that was available at the time. But I’m not going to do that this time around. I’ll send out to Temple Grandin to build me a fucking squeeze machine if I must.
Okay, so I’m going to go take some pain medicine, probably half a clonazepam, and then order a weighted blanket online. Goodnight, all.
Update: Because it’s really not fair to me, and to anybody around me, to expect others to somehow fulfill my own needs, you know? It’ll ruin any platonic relationship I ever try to have at this point.
Why do I fear the morning? I’m going to list out a few reasons for you!
- There is an entire day ahead
- Full of unknowns
- As soon as I get out of bed, I no longer have control of the day
- If I stay in bed, I might feel guilt, anxiety, self-hate, and more, but I am at least in control of my movements
- Once I am out of bed, others tell me the plan, what to do, and when
- The day might be long
- The day might be exhausting
- I will not be allowed to rest once my reserves are spent
- I might not have a chance for snacks when my blood sugar crashes
- I might have to do activities or say things or be in places where I am uncomfortable and unprepared
- I will be the child, the passenger, in no control once the day is started (because I choose to spend the day with you and not alone)
- If I know the plan ahead of time, I can prepare for it (the weather, the time away from home, meeting new people, etc)
- I could screw up socially, with anybody known or new
- If I know the plan ahead of time, I can get anxious about aspects ahead of time, too. 😉
- If walking, skiing, biking, shopping, hiking, etc., I might not be able to take breaks as needed; nobody needs rests as often as I do
I’d say that about sums it up!! 😀
The End of Understanding Your Peers (Which happened for me approximately between fifth and sixth grades)
So a big part of the reason that I’m blogging now is to set down some of my stories in a fairly permanent way. It matters to me because I forget things in a way that’s hard to describe.
The worst time was when I went away to college in the first place. I arrived across the country, ready for college. Within the first two weeks, something was noticeable that was unlike the other freshmen there. I couldn’t remember my past. I could remember big things like my parents. But I couldn’t remember middle or high school times. People would ask each other questions about different experiences from school and friends and what not, and I was drawing a complete blank. I literally couldn’t remember. It wasn’t just like it was fuzzy and vague — it was literally not there. I couldn’t remember who I’d been before in a pretty big way.
On the plus side, that meant I got to start over on some things. Like I was NOT shy there. I did make lots of friends. I was constantly, CONSTANTLY active (I joined nearly every club I could; I had NO FREE TIME from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed). I gained 15% of my high school body weight. I had a huge appetite and ate things I would never have touched before.
I was excited, I was gregarious, I had motivation. I had little memory of a time before I arrived there.
Some things remained constant. I was still tardy a lot. And I was still always the last to leave a classroom. And I still had trouble finishing my projects by the end of the given time period. But I was very different.
So yeah, I am somewhat obsessive about knowing a full story. And if that ever happens again, I want to have a way to remember. I don’t care if I never revisit this again; at least it will be here. Something stable and solid in the Universe.
I’m scared shitless of it happening again. When I travel, it is only to visit relatives. Known quantities where the chance of my ‘losing myself’ is much more slim. Preferably my parents would be with me as well. I’m here at the moment and my parents are not. I could certainly, and I know I am changing somewhat. But so long as I don’t forget everything again, and I think blogging some things here has helped me to stay grounded somewhat. I just hope it won’t prevent me from growing, too. It’s probably a double-edged sword. [I don’t feel like going back through and making that somewhat grammatically correct.]
So those are my “Topic” posts, mostly. That’s mostly me trying to document a story I don’t want to lose again. The “Journal” posts are mainly just how I’m doing and carrying on in the meanwhile, while I get all the other stuff down ever-so-slowly.