RSS

Now!

Reflections of time shining on the surface

A glow of fear and pain

Wishing it would never be shown

Wishing they didn’t need to know

But here I am again.

Words echoing in my mind

So much that I need to say

Rattling my brain, turning away

Why do I have to go back to that day?

Trying to find where to begin.

A great escape behind the wall

A place to hide, to shine, to cry

Trapped inside, searching for a key

To unlock the chains and set me free

But where do I go from there?

Afraid of the world flowing past outside

People who don’t understand

So much power over me

Deciding what’s right – but can’t they see

All I need is some help from a friend.

How to express what they’ve never known

Living a life where one doesn’t belong

Trying to fit in a world that rejects

Anyone different from them and expects

Us all to be the same.

Shaking and dizzy I walk in the room

Working to gain the strength

To say what I must, though the words won’t come

How do I tell them how I’ve overcome

When I know that I haven’t – yet.

 

Tags: , ,

Autism: Something to Help

The thing is, I have been super panicky for close to three weeks now.

I keep thinking: if I just get caught up on my blog posts; get the housework done; clean up the yard; get rid of the clutter; find some purpose… then I will calm down.

And I go to do… whatever, and I start of okay, but very quickly grow overwhelmed because, well… I am panicky. So I get a little bit done for the day, and can’t do anymore – which of course feeds my guilt.

So I look around, completely hating myself because other people (all around me) get these things done. And here I am – no job, no children, hardly any social life to speak of – maybe just among the least obligated people I know; and I am so overwhelmed, I am in shut down mode just about all the time.

I have crashed so frequently in the afternoons that my dogs now come to me early every afternoon begging for ‘nap time,’ because… I don’t remember the last time I didn’t go in my room for a nap – and even then the panic won’t let up enough for me to sleep most of the time. And when I have gotten to sleep in the afternoon, I just wake up feeling worse.

July 2017 015

In determination I walk over to my computer, completely convinced that I will get my blog posts written this time. I sit down, and am again overwhelmed by the anxiety, and instead go on a Netflix binge watch – because my mind won’t settle enough to think.

Trying…? Not the best solution to this. The harder I try, the more incompetent I feel, the more I panic. In fact, the panic grows the moment I try – before I have even failed yet.

So I ask myself what it will take to get through it this time.

For this is not the first unexplained severe anxiety episode I have experienced. Sometimes it lasts hours, sometimes it lasts months. While I am in it, my functioning is drastically reduced. I feel… scattered. I worry about my sanity. How long can one person’s mind endure such levels of fear before it breaks?

And I think that the hardest part is, I don’t even know why I am so anxious. I just want it to end.

Feeding into this anxiety is night after night of very vivid dreams in which I am trying to repair some situation in my past – and I wake up not quite oriented to the world I now find myself, saying, “yes, please let me do that.” And day by day the panic grows.

I suppose that since I am so badly effected by all anti-depressant/anti-psychotic/anti-whatever medications – not just with bad side effects, but the fact that they have the opposite effect on me to begin with – that I will just have to endure it. I just wish I could find something that would help.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Autism: Fair Trade

The weeks go by, and still the sky is filled with smoke. There has been no rain. The fires continue to burn. Many days, I can’t even see the mountains or the lake from my house – yet the lake is only about 7-8 houses down the street. For much of the rest of the year, we have a wonderful view of both.

002

Last year, it was the spring that was hot, and the rain came all summer. It was great!

This year there was so much rain in the spring we had mud slides and flooding. And then the rain stopped, and now there are fires.

The fires are close, but they’ve been closer other years. Because of that, every time summer comes around again, I consider what it would mean to us if it were our town on fire; our town being evacuated; our home burnt to the ground.

I consider those things, and do what I’ve always done – seek out the positives that might be brought about from that. I think maybe I could have been an optimist… if only I could block out reality.

The consolation from these thoughts is rarely equal to what I would be giving up – but they do help me to avoid meltdown (before I am alone, at least.) Like when I was dating my husband, and never knew if he would ask me to do something with him, or turn and walk away. I don’t handle the unexpected well – but didn’t want him to see that (as much as possible) so I would comfort myself with this:

“If he doesn’t take me out, I can go home and have a Pepsi.” Not exactly a great trade, but as I said, it did help. Of course it meant I always had to ensure I had pop in the fridge at home. It also meant really working to savour that pop until my mind was calm enough to move on – which also fed an addiction to Pepsi that I still frequently have to fight some 16 years later (even though I am rarely bothered when I stay home now.)

In fact, some things become so frightening to me that the things my mind creates to get through are much bigger than a can of pop – and I fixate on the consolation to the point that people on the outside begin to believe that is what I want; when in fact ‘that’ is only masking the very real fear of what I have to lose:

  • my dog
  • my children
  • my confidence
  • my job
  • my house
  • my husband
  • my family

In my earlier days, those around me became so convinced that what I was fixated on was what I wanted, that they also convinced me it was true (though I fought and denied it for a time) and caused it to become a reality. I think that is what they call a self-fulfilling prophecy? Only the idea came from me – they just didn’t understand at all that it was hiding a fear rather than revealing a desire.

People around me are still convinced now that what they see is desire – and it still costs me. It still brings those fears into reality. And it is still not enough to cover the pain of the loss.

So the smoke fills the air and I think, “if our house burns down, at least the renovations will get done, and I won’t be overwhelmed by all the stuff we are storing, and the things that need cleaned, and…”

And for a moment it calms me. For a moment. I think of a fresh start, and it eases the burden. For a time, I might even be convinced this is what I want.

And then I remember the cost. I look at my animals, and remember that when my grandma’s house burnt down, her 5 cats were killed in the fire – and upon returning home and seeing the smoke, she burnt her hands trying to save them. I can’t lose my babies – especially not like that. So I pray, “Please Lord, if our house is going to burn, let us be warned so we can all get out on time.”

But then I look at the box of my dog’s ashes. And there are the pictures of my son from before we got our digital camera. And there are the dolls that sometimes seem so real to me. And there are boxes of artwork and schoolwork from my children. And there are my journals, and my books, and…

“Wait,” I cry, “I don’t want my house to burn!” And that is when I remember that my fixations are more likely to reveal my fears than my desires. Not what I want. Not what I want! Like trading a relationship for a Pepsi – because of course that is a fair trade!

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Autism: How the Story Ends

“Do not fret because of those who are evil or be envious of those who do wrong; for like the grass they will soon wither.” (Psalm 37:1-2)

I read that in my devotional this morning, and it was so needed; for I frequently find myself full of pain and fear over the evil that is in this world.

The greed.

I guess I have known this for a long time, but the older I get, the heavier the weight it carries: capitalism feeds greed.

It isn’t even about wanting more and more, and working hard to get it. That, I suppose, is what capitalism is about: the hope that if you work hard enough, and give enough of yourself, your circumstances (will?) improve.

But that isn’t the reality for most people – and even that isn’t what bothers me most.

It is the greed that says, “I will do whatever it takes to get ahead,” and either doesn’t take into account, or doesn’t even care what it costs to others.

Like pet food companies that work for profit, and keep products on the market even when they know it is killing animals.

Like clothing companies, or toy companies, or shoe companies, or… just about everything that uses slave labour to create products at the cheapest cost to sell in richer markets for a huge profit – not caring what they are doing to the people on the bottom.

Like people who cut down rain forests to grow crops to feed animals, so people in the developed world can feel rich eating much more meat than their bodies require – while people are starving in other parts of the world, and plants and animals that should have been left alone, become extinct.

Like people who buy multi-million dollar vacation homes that are left unused much of the time while children are dying of hunger, and for lack of proper medicines and clean water.

So much evil! So much greed!

And it overwhelms me most of the time; I can’t block it out.

How could we?

How could we keep doing this year after year, and decade after decade, and think it is okay?

And I guess if it weren’t for money, people would seek power in its place – and people would be abused, and used, and killed for others to get to the top. And I ask myself, why is it so competitive? Why can’t we work in cooperation instead? Why can’t we make it better?

But the world is full of evil, and sometimes it seems that evil will win.

But evil doesn’t win – and that is what this verse reminded me of today. “In the end it will all be okay; and if it isn’t okay, it isn’t the end.”

I read the book. I know how the story ends. If only I could remember that when I look around and see how bad things are right now.

July 2017 008

 

Tags: , , , , ,

Autism: Sad Research

The things I heard, and the words I read were…

  • Painful.
  • Disgusting
  • Frightening.
  • Discouraging.
  • Upsetting.
  • Lacking Hope.

How was I to find an answer, when the so called ‘options’ were so full of…

  • Greed.
  • Cruelty.
  • Corruption.
  • Evil.

The challenge was that I had to find a new brand of cat food to feel to my cats. Cat food! I expected to have to pay a little more to get a better product. You get what you pay for, right? And really, the main reason I was searching for a new food was because the one they were eating could only be found in the weight control formula, or a flavour they didn’t like. They didn’t need the weight control formula anymore – and in fact, it would have been an unhealthy choice to keep them on it.

016

So, true to myself, I spent many hours researching what would be the best (and preferably not too expensive) food to try next.

And during those hours, my eyes were opened to the absolute greed that a capitalist society feeds.

And it broke my heart.

Six years! Six years a food was left on the shelves, and the company knew it was killing animals. They knew it, and still they left the product on the shelves, and assured people again and again that it was safe.

And when they were sued? They had to compensate the people for the cost of the pet and vet care. That is it! They traded lives and loves for profits, and in the end, it didn’t really cost them anything at all.

But you read something like that, and shake your head, and say, “horrible!” But surely it is an isolated event, right? Yet the more I read, and the more I researched, the more I understood: This is nowhere close to rare. Nowhere close.

They make their money, and they don’t care that what they are selling causes so much sickness, death, heartache. They don’t care. Pets are property; nothing more. They aren’t even legally obligated to report these things in a timely manor. Some aren’t even sure they have to report it at all. And the animals die, and the family’s hearts are broken – and if it can be connected, the courts say, “how much did it cost?”

But these are my babies! Not property – family. And the cost of losing them is so, so much more than the money I paid to try to save them, or the cost to bring home another. Irreplaceable. Priceless.

As I read these things, and watched the reports, I thought of my dog who died of heart failure in the spring of 2016, and I wonder. I wonder because he was not even 8 years old. I wonder because a lot of dogs in the area died young from similar things at that time.

002

What can’t be proven hurts still. What can be proven is not compensated enough – not nearly enough – for the pain they caused.

Powerless. What could I do?

So I got them the best food I could find – one where right at the top of the list were actual meats, organs, eggs for a long way down, followed by fruits and vegetables I recognized, and no corn, potatoes, grains, chemicals, poisons…

And then I went to the grocery store and bought them real food: Chicken, liver, salmon, eggs.

And my babies were very pleased.

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

Autism: I Long For The End

How can my life be fixed?

How can I move forward when the past continues to cry out for redemption?

Broken as I am; standing on a fine line between sanity and insanity; how can anything good, or true, or righteous come out of my existence?

I dream of things that are wrong, or impossible… and when I wake, I still desire them in part.

Even in longing to belong to God, I still desire things which God has determined are not right for me. In the battle between flesh and spirit, the flesh frequently lays the stronger claim.

“Oh wretched (person) that I am, who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24)

I am filled with a restlessness and a discontent which nothing in this evil, broken world can satisfy; and I long for escape.

Where others find joy and connection, I see a world filled with pain and despair, and feel powerless to help at all. And evil as I know I am, this overpowering desire to ease the pain and suffering (which I have carried for all of my life) only breaks me further as I come to see that my presence, and my very best attempts only serve to cause more pain.

Who am I?

Why am I here?

Will I ever make it home?

What more will I cost others along the way in my weakened attempts to serve some greater purpose, and remove just a little bit of the hurt in this broken world?

Some days I long for the end, for… “the end is where we begin,” (Captain Jack Harkness – Torchwood)

Summer 2015 011

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Autism: Powerless to Help

There was a Facebook post: A 13 week old puppy, who carried a stuffed toy with him wherever he went was at a shelter. He loved the toy so much, the workers would have to take it away from him so he would eat.

But the shelter is a high kill shelter, where the animals are given just weeks, sometimes even days, to find a home – before they are ‘humanely’ put to sleep.

No one showed any interest in him, so he was moved to the back – to death row.

He took his stuffed toy with him. His only source of comfort as he sat in the cage waiting to die.

I don’t know what happened to that puppy. I know there are many young and old in a similar situation. I can only hope the word got out on time, and he was saved.

I cried when I read about him. I am crying still. The world is a cruel and evil place, and I feel powerless in it – nearly as powerless as that puppy, sitting in that cage, holding his stuffed toy for comfort.

I cannot save them all. I couldn’t even save that one. And it destroys me.

Maybe that is why it is so hard for me to live in this world: I can’t block these things out. I can’t NOT see – and I am powerless to help.

003

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Autism: Getting Harder

For three days after we got home from camping I had energy. It was so nice.

I stripped and waxed my kitchen floor, removing at least thirteen years of paint and buildup. I had not done that before, but I did remember my mother doing it.

For years I thought I would either remove the linoleum (or is it vinyl?) floor in my kitchen, or just tile directly over top. No matter how much I washed and bleached it, the floor never looked clean. But the tiles were too expensive, the styles were not what I wanted (I really wanted blue and white tiles, but they mainly had blacks, whites, browns, and grey.)

003

Then my mom was here, and we had to drive to another city for my appointment – one with larger building centres that might have the tile that I was looking for. They didn’t.

So I asked my mom about stripping and waxing, and she told me what I needed. We looked through that city, but could only find one industrial sized container of floor stripper. I quickly grew tired of looking. One day, however, we went in to the building centre near home, and there it was! Not huge. Not too expensive. Much better economically (as well as environmentally, I imagine) than removing and re-tiling the floor.

While she was here, she showed me what I was supposed to do on a small section of the floor under my stove. I later did under the fridge, but waited to do the rest of the floor after she left – after all, she had just spent seven years working almost like a slave cleaning (for free) for a relative. She needed a break, and I didn’t want her time here to be spent on projects for my house. Not at all. I just wanted to know what I was supposed to do, so one day when I was alone and had energy, I could do it.

Coming home from a week of camping seemed to be the right time. I woke up on that Monday morning with energy.

I did have a lot of cleaning and laundry to do during that time, and that kept me pretty busy – but I was also being given an old (near 30 years old) dishwasher from my SIL as they were moving to a new home that week, and the new house came with a good dishwasher.

I wasn’t sure that I wanted it. My upstairs is pretty full, and my kitchen didn’t have the space for a portable dishwasher (our other one was built in, but the seal broke, and I was just using it for a draining rack.)

So I spent a lot of the Monday doing the laundry, cleaning the house, and organizing the kitchen and dining rooms to make room for the dishwasher. Suddenly the floor of the kitchen was clear, and so I took that opportunity to strip it. That was a lot of work, and it was all I could accomplish in a day. So I left it like that, but felt really good about having put in a full, busy day of work.

The next day was similar. There was still so much to do – but again, I put in a full, busy day, and felt really good. I waxed the floor that afternoon.

The third day was also very busy – for I was still organizing as well as cleaning. I had to push myself then, but I got a lot done, and I felt really good about it.

And then I crashed.

Bad.

For the last six days I have been in an unending full blown panic attack. There seems to be no cause, as I have no appointments, have had nowhere to go, have had nothing to plan for, haven’t even had visitors – but I am panicking.

I am panicking, and exhausted, and feeling restless, and hopeless, and unable to motivate myself at all. In fact trying to motivate myself only causes my panic and restlessness to grow.

I suppose that I should be thankful for the three good days I had – for I don’t often even have that. I am thankful for those days, only… I feel stronger the guilt of the hard days, which don’t allow me to be productive, and don’t allow me to ‘hold up my end,’ and don’t allow me to give either what other people give themselves, or what they expect of me.

I feel guilty because the hard days far outweigh the good, and because of that I can’t even keep up with the basics of living let alone moving forward to give of myself to others (through work, or volunteering, or even visiting, or…?)

I feel guilty because after nearly 41 years, I would have hoped I could have won this battle against myself to be able to do and be more than I had in the past. Yet with each year that passes, it only seems to be getting harder.

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

 
%d bloggers like this: