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Showing posts from November, 2013

What do you expect of your aspie at Christmas?

I've said it before, I love Christmas. The Spirit of Christmas Present would not have needed to sneak in my spare room with his cornucopia of goodies. In fact, if he did, he would probably have to move my own cornucopia first. I'd have no issue with the theory of goodwill to your fellow man (you notice I keep to the theory, practice is a little bit harder sometimes) and in general I would welcome Christmas into my heart, every day.

So, having sorted that out, yes, I am going to have a moan about Christmas. That is, about other people and their idea of it and how we should all fit in.

Let me be upfront: I do not expect others to be a rabid advocate of Christmas. I don't expect them to rush out with their lights, sticking them on spiky trees in the pouring rain or trying to figure out how to keep battery-operated lights on the dog while making sure he doesn't chew them off. I don't think everyone should deck the halls or have to lop the top off the tree just to fit …

Aspies have no sympathy

Crazy, isn't it? The people who ignore your sage and logical advice are always the ones who come running when it goes belly up. This is the stage in life where you have to choose between smacking them up the side of the head or biting your tongue.

Luckily, this blog is typed so my poor, sore tongue doesn't have to do any of the work. I'm tested, though, I don't mind admitting it. I'm not really prone to smacking people, however much I would like to sometimes. But I am prone to a good sharp sentence or two, perfectly constructed and out of my mouth before I realise who said it.

Surprisingly, I have held off this time, most likely because I'm absolutely exhausted this week and was too weary to be caustic. Usually, I do say what I feel and think and then wonder why the person who ignored my advice is weeping on my front step, unable to gather the strength to go home.

I am ticked off, though. As a mistress of self-sabotage I can feel it hanging in the air with som…

Chaotic, disorganised or just aspie?

Yesterday was a simple day - on paper. Here is my to-do list, as it looked the night before:

1. Get RT Teen to college on train
2. Take IT Teen to volunteering job
3. Prepare for maths lesson and creative writing class (in school)
4. Collect IT Teen and take dogs for their walk
5. Go to creative writing class (and do not be late!)
6. Pop home for food then go to maths lesson

There. A nice, organised list with my time allocated so that I know what I'm doing. And then,

RT Teen felt a bit off, so didn't go to college, but by then I'd done my usual trick of laying awake half the night, ready to get up very early. Went back to bed and laid awake in daylight instead.

Took IT Teen to his volunteering job, but forgot about my eBay parcels so did them instead of lesson prep while he was out.

Collected IT and came home to do the lesson prep and creative writing whatnots. Forgot I hadn't factored in time for lunch, so ate that. By now, the clock was ticking.

Worked out where the…

The art of the mini-breakdown

The scenario is familiar: life becomes too much, you need to hide away and regroup but, this time, it doesn't work. You feel you need to burrow deeper into your hidey-hole, need to lock the door better, need to keep it all away so you can feel like it will never come back.

Sometimes, there isn't a small space small enough, there just aren't words comforting enough and the phone cannot be unplugged far enough to keep you safe from the outside world.

Every step along the road comes along your path, keeping your mobile on silent only means you check it more, the jobs you need to do stay undone but they bother at you, worrying at your leg like an impatient sheep dog.

How is it that sometimes all you need is a small period of hibernation, but other times, you feel like you need to shuck off the whole world and become a permanent hermit, just to stay sane? And then feel that you've left it too late for sanity anyway.

Days (if you're lucky), weeks or months later, you em…