RSS

Tag Archives: autism food

Autism: Learning to Can Part 2

I have heard (and this is the reason I decided to go with the pressure canner to begin with) that once you start canning, it becomes addictive. I now know how true that was.

I canned the plums, and it took a long time. My back was sore, and I was very tired. There was the added bonus of, having this huge pot of boiling water that needed to be dumped, being able to take a bath (we have an extra wide bathtub and not enough water in our hot water tank to ever use it.) I needed that bath then with my back hurting so much. I really enjoyed that.

After that, my husband brought home a huge zucchini and some cucumbers. Of course, they needed to be pickled (especially since I am the only one in my house that eats them and the zucchini alone was over 4lbs.) Then, too, I also had a fresh head of cauliflower, some carrots, lots of onions, some garlic from the garden… They could be pickled, too! I made 12 pints of Italian flavoured zucchini pickles, and 12 pints of mixed pickles.

DSC02499

And that is when my pressure canner came in. Of course, I had to try that out, too.

I must admit that I have been afraid of pressure canning. I mean, it seems everywhere you turn on the subject people are saying how dangerous it could be – but then… mostly it seemed the danger in the canning itself was involved in the older style of equipment (the new ones have safety features built in) and the rest is about not following directions.

I can follow directions… if they are written down, that is.

So I made white bean soup. White bean soup (very much like the chicken stew with rosemary I used to make in my pre-vegan days) is one of my favourite meals – but it makes way too much considering I am again the only one here who eats it; same with most of the food I eat. I made 10 pints. One didn’t fit in the canner – I guess my pint jars are the same width as wide-mouth would be or something; I could only fit 9. One jar didn’t seal – there was a new lid which was slightly bent. I meant to save that for something I would just refrigerate, but I unbent it, washed it, and couldn’t tell it apart from the others. The others all looked great!

So much fun!

Then a couple of days ago, having bought some dried black beans, I decided to can some more. I made black bean soup and vegetarian chili – 8 pints each (I forgot I could fit 9 in, but 8 was a good number and the jars were all just filled with the amount I had made in the slow cooker.)

I learned that day that pressure canning two batches in one day was too much for me. My head hurt from the amount of concentration I had to keep. My back hurt, and my girls were stressed out since I wasn’t able to sit with them until after 7pm that night. Yet looking at those 16 jars, and hearing the pings (I have learned to love that sound!) of jars sealing was incredibly satisfying.

Course, here I am two days later, aching to do more canning. I suppose it isn’t really worth the time. 16 jars worth maybe about $11 after factoring the cost of the food for a whole days work – when an eight hour shift would have paid quite a bit over $100 if I could have kept working, yet… this calms me and brings value to my life, where working caused me panic, stress, burn out, and an overwhelming feeling that whatever I did didn’t matter.

There is more to life than money, and I think… I think I really like canning.

Oh – and in response to my mother’s question when I spoke to her the other day, “how does it taste?” Better than I could have imagined! Really, there is no comparison to store bought canned vegetarian soups.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Autism: Learning to Can Part 1

It started out with plums. Lots of plums. Our tree was full this year and… I had to start somewhere, so – plums!

The pressure canner I ordered back in August never came in. I waited and waited, and then went camping – but my son was still home and he watched for it. It was in Edmonton, and was supposed to arrive here the next day, but never came.

Did someone steal it? Ugh people!

It isn’t like we live in a poor neighbourhood. We likely live in one of (if not the) oldest and least expensive homes in our area. We are surrounded by doctors, teachers, nurses, business owners… We may not have much, but the people around us do – so if it got here and they stole it??? I don’t understand that.

Perhaps it never made it this far – but then… it was fed ex that had it (I think; might have been Purolator.) Did one of their workers take it?

So I got back from vacation and was stressed out to find it had not come in. I emailed Amazon about it, and they said they would send another. Then I learned of ‘my baby,’ and everything else dimmed in comparison. I struggled for many days and then one day woke up deciding this was the day I would harvest plums and try canning for the first time.

I guess when most other people learn such things they turn to people who know what they are doing and learn from them. That isn’t me. Working with other people presses on my heart and mind that I am not good enough. I don’t belong. They may not be thinking the same thing; I will allow for that. When I am with other people, however, I get attacked – in my head, in my heart, all around me – and I just can’t.

Though I am sure most other people don’t understand this level of anxiety or isolation, I am sure that if they experienced anything similar – like perhaps they received an electric shock every time they got something right, they would be afraid to keep going, too. Not that I get shocked – but it is like that. I get attacked through thoughts and feelings. It makes it so hard to function that when other people are around, I really can’t function. Not won’t. Can’t. I drop things, I spill things, I make mistakes. I can’t think for the shouting in my head (that I am working so hard to silence) telling me how stupid I am to think I belong there, or could do… anything.

So I don’t. Other people work, and serve, and do things with other people – and when I am there, I sit, or I try to hide in a corner and become invisible.

It has to be this way, it seems, for I am not strong enough to silence the attacks – and the attacks always come.

This means that if I want to learn anything, really, I have to learn alone. I seek out ideas, research, study, spend an inordinate amount of time fixated on the subject, and then one day I will just try.

Well, knowing I was interested in canning, my husband brought a huge water bath canner home from the thrift store where he works. I mean, it was huge! It took up two burners on the stove. I had all these plums, so that is where I started. Over a couple of days I made 24 jars of canned plums (and got at least that amount again in fresh plums, some of which we brought to my husband’s work and gave away.

DSC02495

 

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

Autism: I Don’t Eat Meat

There is this site I visit often in order to earn some points that can be redeemed for gift cards. Every day they have a poll which, upon answering, earns 1pt (which translates to $0.01.) Not very much, I’ll admit, but there are also other ways (such as taking surveys) to earn points, and they do add up.

Lately there have been many polls around food. It appears the states have a ‘national day for…’ just about every day – and a lot of it is food: donuts, chicken wings, seafood…

Anyway all of these polls come up, and many have been specifically asking what our favourite type of meat is. How do you like your chicken wings? (Don’t eat meat.) Which is your favourite burger place? (Don’t eat meat.) What is your favourite seafood? (Don’t like seaweed, don’t eat meat.)

Each of the polls has a list to choose from, and ‘vegetarian’ or ‘vegan’ has not been an option.

So for each poll, those of us who are vegan or vegetarian have been responding on the comments section, “don’t eat meat,” or “I am vegetarian,” or something like that.

What really got me, though, was how upset all of the non-vegetarians got with those responses.

“How do you know if someone is a vegetarian? They will tell you.”

And why shouldn’t we.

Someone even went as far as to say that vegetarians – especially people who used to eat meat – are a lot like ex-smokers in that they are very vocal about their distaste for something they used to consume.

Well… yeah!

For a couple of years in my teens, I was a smoker. I quit when I was pregnant with my son – and aside from 6 weeks during a very stressful summer a couple of years later, I never went back. I hated the smell of smoke before I was a smoker (I suppose I could write a post about what happened there,) and aside from the time when the cravings were still strong, I have had an even worse reaction to the smell of smoke (not just while someone is smoking, which is really bad, but also the smell that follows them after) ever since.

A person makes a choice to move away from an addiction, puts a strong effort into denying the cravings, and comes out the other side disgusted about the things they once enjoyed. But if a person has made a decision to move towards a kinder, healthier, more environmentally friendly, more sustainable lifestyle – why should others be upset at them for sharing their success?

“But that isn’t it,” they say. Today I read something about a person who had gone to a vegetarian restaurant. They were impressed with the food, but saw the servers and cooks as having an attitude of “we are better than you,” because they were vegetarian.  They left unhappy and disgusted.

That might be the case with some vegetarians – like it might be the case with some Christians, or ex-smokers, or… But did he ask them? My initial thought would be that perhaps that wasn’t what they were feeling at all. Maybe they were proud to work in a place where they are able to inspire people towards a kinder lifestyle. Perhaps they were happy that people were enjoying their food so much – when that isn’t always the case with any food that is different.

All I know is that I am vegetarian (almost vegan). I am Christian. I am an ex-smoker. I am many things that set me apart from ‘most’ people – but I have never felt “better than,” and if people ever thought that about me, it would be their mistake, not mine. Though I do believe these are kinder, healthier, better choices – but that doesn’t make me a better person (or less of a sinner) for choosing them.

People express their opinion that Vegetarians are trying to push their views – yet everywhere I go, and many of the things I see, people are celebrating around meat, and trying to feed it to others, and…

I don’t believe that Vegans or Vegetarians are better people – but I do believe we were given an extra strong dose of empathy to the point that we are unable to block out the pain, and the cruelty, and the… evil that exists in the meat industry. We can neither block it out, nor can we stand by without saying something,

  • as people spoke out against slavery
  • as people spoke out against the holocaust
  • as people spoke out against child abuse
  • as people spoke out against rape

As people have spoken out against all the pain that people bring to the world, those of us who have this in our hearts and minds must speak out; we must.

And really, is it more cruel for vegetarians to say, “I don’t eat meat,” or for meat eaters to mock, and joke, and exclude, and get upset with someone who is doing their best to be ‘a little bit kinder?’

July 2017 006

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Autism: Successful Trip

In spite of a real scare at the beginning of our trip, I am glad that I decided to go camping with my husband – even if I had little notice, and my plans were changed last minute when a large dog crate came into the thrift store where my husband works, and a neighbour offered to lend us their portable dog pen.

This year, I even did pretty well with food. In fact, I don’t think I have ever had a better prepared trip (and often I spend weeks trying to figure out what to eat.) Unlike other years, where ‘in order to not be difficult’ I would agree to eat what I could with other people, there was no way I was going back to eating meat this trip. That meant separation right at the foundation of the meal.

Instead I opened up three cans – black beans, chickpeas, and refried beans. I mashed up the black beans and added oatmeal, onion flakes, hot peppers, capers, garlic, ground flax seed, broth, salt and pepper. That made 6 ‘bean burgers.’ I mashed up the chickpeas and added onion flakes, garlic, Kala Namak (black salt with an ‘egg’ like flavour,) hot peppers, ginger, and parsley. That made 6 ‘chickpea salad’ meals. The refried beans, mixed with taco seasoning, made five ‘taco salad’ meals. I froze the beans and chickpeas in aluminum foil (I might just freeze them next time in my silicon baking cups to take out and heat.) Then I brought up a couple of cans of lentil soup.

It worked!

I must admit, I did get tired of bean burgers on bread after a few days – especially as the buns started to get stale. But then I wasn’t really hungry, or needing vegetables (I brought up home made kale chips and had a vegan breakfast shake mix with ’27 different fruits and vegetables’ which helped a lot with that – plus, they did have salad, and I ate that.)

When I didn’t want the beans, I could easily make myself granola mixed with yogourt, or coleslaw salad mixed with assorted nuts and corn chips.

So aside from one moment asking someone not to add his eggs to the grill until my pancakes were done cooking – and another moment where I had an allergic reaction when the frying pan used for my food hadn’t been cleaned well enough after other people had eggs on it (not as bad as it could have been, since I am loaded up on allergy medications this time of year – my throat, mouth, and tongue started to swell, itch, and go numb; I took more allergy pills, and had Pepsi (which somewhat neutralizes it,) and the reaction went down) I did okay with food.

As I have said, that has never happened before, and was a huge breakthrough.

So I was able to get my time in nature, swimming every day, watching sunsets with ‘my girls’ from my tent as I wrote my journal. And I really enjoyed it.

July 2017 022

Transitioning to go home was another story – and one best saved for a different post.

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Autism: Live and Learn and Grow

I must say, this has been a particularly good year for gardening for me. It isn’t that a lot is growing – I have realized some mistakes along the way (that I will hopefully not make again in the future.) I am growing organic without any especial help, meaning that some of my food is being eaten by bugs. I haven’t added a lot in terms of food or fertilizer; though I have done some.

Having planted wildflowers in the past, several of my garden beds are being overrun with flowers where I had intended to have vegetables. Things kind of look overrun and unkempt I guess; especially when compared to other gardens in the area.

I think the best part is that when I have needed the energy – to turn the soil, or pull the weeds, or especially to harvest the food – it has been there. That certainly hasn’t been true in other years, and even between harvests this year my energy has been so low that I have often wondered how I would get it done. But then the food was ready to harvest – and suddenly I had the energy to gather the food.

It has been wonderful!

Having food growing in my yard also means having access to foods I wouldn’t normally purchase, and being able to experiment with recipes that I hadn’t tried before.

One day I went out, and my ‘onions’ looked ready. Well, I thought all along they were onions, as that is where I planted some green onions last summer – only I had so many volunteer tomatoes come up in that garden last year that the onions got buried. Luckily they came back again this year, and there were a lot of them.

So I went to harvest my ‘onions’ only to find that what was growing there was garlic! Bonus! I certainly wasn’t disappointed in this find – only surprised. I have tried growing garlic before with no luck (apparently close to where I had planted the green onions!) and was surprised to find that up on the stem of the garlic, there were smaller, milder garlic cloves (at least I think that is what they were) growing in a bunch.

July 2017 005

I pulled out all of those baby cloves (since they didn’t look like they would store well) and harvested some chard to go with them, and sauteed them up for lunch. I can’t express how good they tasted! That was a meal I hadn’t tried before – but then, I do like most vegetables (so long as they don’t have too many seasonings or such added to them.) These I just sauteed up in olive oil with a bit of salt, pepper, and nutritional yeast (makes it taste cheesy!)

July 2017 006

Well, I harvested much more kale and cherries; made kale chips; dehydrated the cherries; felt like I was making good use of the life I was given. Kale chips just might be my favourite food in the world. Of course, I make them myself. I am not sure I would like them so much from a bag in the store – especially with the huge price on them (though I even understand that as four big batches made in the oven only fills a couple of medium sized bowls when finished.)

I brought those kale chips camping with me, and they saved me many days of food meltdowns filling multiple dietary and sensory needs, and allowing me to move on to other foods without struggle. (Though I did have to use a LOT of self control not to eat them all in one sitting.)

I have been home for a few days. A neighbour dropped off some garlic by my gate – again with the baby cloves. Remembering how good the chard was, and adding that to the memory of my sister in law telling me beet greens tasted like chard, I sauteed them up with beets from my garden, and beet greens. Again, so good!

Just this morning I spent several hours harvesting raspberries from my backyard. I got a large bucket full (or 9.5 US dry pints to be exact – I measured) and I have another large batch of kale ready to go. I think I will save that for tomorrow.

All in all, I will say that this hobby has met with success. I am so happy, and so content – even though not everything grew as I wished it would. Well, live and learn, and… grow!

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Autism: Whole Day Gone

Though of course I would rather not be sick, and not have to go at all, I was thankful to finally go in to see my doctor yesterday about my nausea. It has been progressing badly, and has come to the point where I am sick all the time. I don’t know what to eat. I don’t know what not to eat. I do know that I can’t not eat, because that would make me worse.

It is a very difficult position to be in, where it feels as if even healthy food is conspiring to make me ill. And what can be considered healthy food these days, anyway? I suppose that I could try to eat all organic, natural food. I am quite certain that, although many people may not be badly affected by it, GMO’s and pesticides and such are really bad for me. Only I can’t afford organic, and what is more, eating those foods doesn’t really stop me from getting sick anyway.

002

I have come to the conclusion that this is far beyond me. I can’t fix it on my own, and I can’t leave it as it is. I am so sick. I know this isn’t caused from medications, as I am hardly on any right now – just the allergy pills I can’t go off (despite being two months past the time I can usually stop taking them), and the occasional Gravol for nausea (only when it is at its worst) and pain medication (again, only when it is at its worst.) It has to be something else.

Though I could go and list all the things this could be, I know that would only scare me and make it worse. So I will wait, and pray, and hope they find an answer for me.

It isn’t just the nausea, though – as if that weren’t enough. I am also struggling with pressure in my head, that is causing a tingling sensation in my face, that matches the feeling in my hands and feet. On top of that, my entire body aches, as if I have the flu – but I don’t. And then when I stand for long periods (5 minutes or so) that nausea turns into pain in my abdomen that doesn’t seem to let up for a long time after sitting.

Whatever it is, it isn’t good.

Even so it took months of trying to deal with this on my own before I finally agreed to go to the doctor – and then it was the third day of telling myself I had to go before I could actually bring myself to do it. It doesn’t help that when I am crashing, or not feeling well, it becomes really hard for me to leave the house. This week (as often happens) I was both.

Well, I finally went to the doctor. I went down with my husband on the way to work. My doctor is at the walk in clinic, and I was the second in line to see him (having shown up before they opened.) I was in, and out, and home in less than an hour. Not a big deal. And the thing is, I like my doctor. He seems like a good guy, who genuinely cares about people.

I wasn’t so sure about him at first, but that was because I was seeing another doctor in the clinic, who I really liked, and was suddenly told he wasn’t my doctor anymore. I had to see someone new. I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but I don’t do new well – so I kept going in and asking for my old doctor anyway, and he seemed happy enough to see me.

When, after a few years of considering it, I decided to ask about Autism, I thought it might be easier to see someone I didn’t know. So I went in, and asked for my new doctor. And maybe that is why I like him. Though they are always in a hurry, he sat down, and looked at me, and listened to everything I was saying. At the end, I could tell he believed me as he told me, “This doesn’t change who you are. You will still be the same person, but we are going to get you help.”

Ever since then, I have asked to see him, and I have always felt that he really listened to what I was saying, and most importantly that he believed me.

Well, that was it. He gave me papers for lab work, which required fasting, so I had to wait to go in. He said to come back in a week for the results, and then I drove home. Not a bad experience. Not a lot of time away from home. No strong stress (above the illness that brought me in there in the first place.) Yet though I got home before 10am, that was my entire day. I didn’t get anything else done, and from the hours of 10am to 5pm (when I had to leave to pick up my husband from work) the only things I remember doing were looking at my emails, and reading Facebook.

An entire day gone for the sake of a decent 10 minute appointment. And that is who I am.

 

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

Autism: Thankful for Thanksgiving

Due to how difficult my birthday, and the days surrounding it were for me, I especially wanted to have a good Thanksgiving. The trouble was: same people, same plans, nearly the same food… my family is still so far away. I was just coming out of a very long time period of crashing, and it had been dark and rainy for days.

In my own strength, and depending on those closest to me, it was unlikely that Thanksgiving would be any better than my birthday; any better than any day, really. All I could do was go into it hoping and praying, as I had a couple of weeks prior for my birthday, that something would be different; something would be better… and then try not to hope for too much.

Well, as I wrote in my last post, my husband did take me out the night before Thanksgiving. We went to a hockey game, and despite the rain and the crowds, I had a really good time. In itself, that helped to life my mood from the strong anxiety and depression that had left me struggling for most of about three weeks.

On the morning of Thanksgiving, we went to church as usual. However, unexpectedly I met a friend as I walked through the door. Although she had told me she would try to get to church that weekend (they just moved back to town) her intention was to go to a different service. I had no idea that she would be there, and there she was.

Normally I don’t like surprises, but this was a good one. I sat with her through the service, hoping she would enjoy it (everything has changed since she was there last – mostly for the better, I think, but still…) and thinking, “I am sitting with my friend!” Obviously that doesn’t happen often. Usually I sit with my husband, and since we sit at the very front (not a popular choice) we sit alone. I was thankful she was there; I was thankful she enjoyed it; I was thankful to have a friend.

After church, I went home, and nothing was much different than on my birthday. My husband went to his thing, and I went to mine. After lunch, however, when I asked him to come along for my dog’s walk, he came. The weather was beautiful, a really nice autumn day, and I enjoyed that time spent with him.

007

When it came to supper, I made the food, but he peeled the potatoes – just as I like it. It isn’t that I think I am such a great cook or anything, it is just… I can’t handle different. I would love for other people to make most of my food, if only they would make it just as I like it. Since that doesn’t happen, I’d rather do it myself. I am much less likely to have a meltdown that way.

Supper was pretty good. I enjoyed it much more than any (mostly) vegan has a right to enjoy meat – I didn’t say I don’t like meat, I would just rather it didn’t come from animals is all – and vegan ‘meat’ is often made with wheat, soy, and mushrooms, which I can’t or won’t eat. Plus it doesn’t taste the same.

Anyway, I agreed to eat meat for holidays, birthdays, and when away from home – because it is just too difficult not to. Yet the very fact that I enjoyed supper left me feeling guilty, and sad for the turkey.

After supper, we each went back to our thing. It is exhausting after all to spend too much time together. Even though there was very little different from my birthday, those few little things made all the difference. I am not extremely needy or anything. Just a little care, and I am content.

And so for all this, I am thankful for Thanksgiving.

 

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

Autism: Great Inventions

After a few days of meltdowns over my birthday, I thought I would write a more positive post. For though there are many days when I feel… discouraged, to say the least, that is not all of my experience. It may even seem that my moods swing so far, and so often, that I could be said to have bi-polar disorder. I don’t. It just happens that I have been given strong doses of sensitivity and empathy, which means I am strongly impacted by life as it happens to me, as well as when it happens to others.

As I have mentioned in the past, I am not great at doing reviews. This isn’t even my purpose. Yet I wanted to share this because it fits so well with who I am. About a week ago, I ordered this off of Amazon, and received it in the mail.

001

It is called a Wonderbag. Basically it was developed for women in Africa, who were spending hours every day cooking over a wood fire. Not only was this time consuming, but dangerous. Fumes from the fuel were being inhaled, as ventilation was not adequate. Many children, often under the age of 5 were dying from this. Even those who didn’t die were strongly affected with poor health. Burns. Fires. Hours spent cutting and gathering wood. Something needed to be done.

This was not a new concept. In the depression times, in order to conserve fuel, ‘hay boxes’ were used. Basically they would dig a hole in the ground, fill it with hay, and put in a pot full of boiling food in order to finish cooking without fuel.

For this, it is a cloth bag, with foam pellets for insulation in between the layers. So what I do, is start the food cooking on the stove (stews, soups, grains… things that can be made in a slow cooker) and boil it for about 10 minutes, depending on the type of food. Then I take the entire pot, with a tight fitting lid, and put the whole thing in the wonderbag. It has a separate section to cover it, and the drawstring is pulled to fit it tightly over the pot. Then I leave it for up to 12 hours.

That is it! I don’t touch it. I don’t need any more fuel to cook it. It doesn’t plug in. Just a bag insulating a pot to cook my food.

I love the idea. Anything that conserves energy. Anything that helps the environment (less fuel, less wood, less transportation, “less is more!”) Anything ‘off grid’. Anything that helps other people. Anything that saves money. I love it!

What I especially liked about this particular item was that for every purchase, the company would donate one wonderbag to a person in Africa who needs it. So great! Technically I could have made one for myself – but then I wouldn’t have been able to donate one. I liked the idea, and so decided to back the company up.

True, it wasn’t exactly cheap, but not bad compared to the price of appliances. Besides, I had a gift card that I had earned from things I was doing online. I thought this was a good way to use it. But would it work?

That part always makes me nervous. I can really get excited about an idea, but will it work?

The first thing I made in it was vegan quinoa chili. This is something I would make on the stove, and often have cooking for close to an hour. In fact, many of the foods that I cook for myself take about that long to cook. I boiled it for 10 minutes, put it in the Wonderbag, sealed it up for about 5 hours, and when I opened it it was steaming! I could actually see the steam pouring off of it, and I had to use oven mitts to take it out of the bag. And was it good! So good. I ate that for supper, and froze the rest for quick meals later.

That same night I was going to a potluck dinner (I ate early, because potluck!) and made a peach crisp. Though the Wonderbag says ceramic, or Pyrex dishes aren’t a good material to use, I just wanted something to carry it in, and keep it warm. I put it straight from the oven at 6pm, and again had to use oven mitts to take it out close to 8pm, it was that hot!

I think that we are going to have a great relationship, my Wonderbag and I. Right now I have a coconut, cashew, millet curry cooking in my Wonderbag, and I can’t wait to try it!

 
3 Comments

Posted by on October 19, 2016 in Experiences of an Autistic

 

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

Autism: Happy 40th:(

My head is pounding and I am struggling to stop crying. I don’t know why I hoped for anything better. I set my alarm to wake up for 7:40am so I would have time to get ready for church. My husband had the fire going, and bacon cooking in the kitchen. I was in a good mood to start out. I took my dog outside, then fed her.

When I came in, the fire was nearly out. Just burning paper, I guess. The bacon, which despite eating mostly plant based foods, I would have eaten today, was for my husband alone. Arrogant of me, I suppose, to believe they were for me (even if it was my birthday.) I got ready for church, but by then there was no time for breakfast.

I don’t do well even missing one meal. At church I was so hungry it was hard to stand… so weak it was hard to pay attention. One person said, “Happy Birthday!” He seemed to mean it. I didn’t feel well. When I got home, I had oatmeal and cappuccino, and felt more awake after.

It was 10:30am. My husband went to his chair to read, so I went on my computer. The time went by. My dog was sick (I found out later that night she was walking from my couch, across my end table, over to the cat stand to eat Finn’s food. Oy! I put her baby gate between the table and stand, and she felt better after that.) I took her out many times, and had to clean her up several times, too.

At 2pm, an hour before I usually start it, my husband put the chicken on. I had agreed that for birthdays, holidays, and when away from home, I would eat meat so we could eat together. He wanted an early supper so we could go to a missionary event at our church that night. I agreed to eat at 5pm instead of 6.

I had planned on making the meal that night, despite it being Sunday, because it was very important to me that everything was done the way I like it (and he tends to change things with food.) Only he was in the kitchen, and I can neither go in when someone is there, or hover to ensure he does it ‘right’ (because he gets offended) so I stayed on the computer, and at one point took my dog for a walk.

They knew I was going for a walk, for I had trouble finding the leash and harness (after her surgery, we weren’t able to go for a while, and things were out of place.) Yet despite being my birthday, no one offered to come with me.

At 4:10pm, I heard my husband mashing the potatoes. They shouldn’t have even been turned on until then. At 4:20, I smelled sweet peppers (not the vegetable I like with roast chicken.) I started crying. At 4:38, he announced it was ready, and I went into full meltdown. Everything was wrong. Everything was different. The potatoes were cold. The chicken was upside down, so instead of enjoying the crispy skin (pretty much the reason I agreed to this meal) it was soggy, and I cried more for the chicken who lost its life for this. The vegetable was the wrong type. The spices in the gravy were in different amounts, so tasted different, and it wasn’t thick enough (I had him thicken it.) It was just wrong!

It took me twenty minutes (a record for me, maybe) to fight the meltdown and come out to eat. I know he was trying. I know he didn’t mean to ‘get it wrong.’ I know this, but it hurt just the same. I cried the whole night. After all, this was my 40th birthday. It should have been different.

My son made me a cherry cheese pie (I can’t eat cake – and shouldn’t be eating dairy, but I do like it, and so asked for this.) It is what he does. When they brought out the candle, I tried to make a wish (Yes, I still do that, and it still matters) but Clara growled at my son, who sprayed her with water, making her growl more. I cried for her. I cried for him. I cried for Gryff, my dog that died leaving me heartbroken, and needing to find another. I cried for me.

I sent my husband out to the meeting. Though I fully intended to go that morning, I couldn’t stop crying that night, and leaving the house was no longer an option. He would have stayed, but there was no point. Had I been near my mom, things would have been different – but she is 4,000km away. His family is here to plan things like this for him, but I only have him, and this wasn’t enough.

I am not angry. I am sad. I needed this to be a really good day – different from the others – and it wasn’t. It hurt. It piled on the pain from all of my losses, and said, “This is all you deserve, and this is all you will ever get.” My head and my heart are full of pain.

Happy 40th Birthday to me.

niagara falls

Save

 
2 Comments

Posted by on October 14, 2016 in Experiences of an Autistic

 

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

 
%d bloggers like this: