Facebook Offical

On the advice of my husband, yes, the John of HollylovesJohn, I’m reposting my recent facebook rant here for perpetuity.

It came about because a very cool person that I follow put up a petition to stop Target from selling blue pumpkin bins for Halloween.

It’s a recent thing that originally derived from the Allergy Free Teal pumpkins, someone wanted to use Blue pumpkins to signify Autistic children. (Who also have dietary restrictions, but that’s a whole other thing.) They thought it might help when someone insists that it’s good manners to say, “Trick or Treat.” When in fact, the trick-or-treater may be non-verbal. It’s a non-verbal cue to Non-autistics to be cool, essentially.

SLP’s and behaviorists will often give out Picture Exchange Commincation cards (PEC) at this time to help with this issue as well. They are about the size of a business card and will have “Trick or Treat” with a pictograph representing the action of trick or treating. In case you get any of those in future Halloweens.

It’s just another thing to help, PEC or blue pumpkin. But for some in the community the blue reminds them too much of “light it up Blue” which speaks to the gender issues in diagnosis, and Autism Speaks itself. A corporate charity which has a lot of problems… That’s a whole other article. I swear, one day I will get to Austism Speaks. Hopefully, when they have done something spectacularly good for the community. So, it might be a while.

Anyway, here’s the rant in all its glory:

“I have a “no flame wars” policy when it comes to the internet. So I deleted a comment that I thought could be inflammatory on someone else’s petition to stop Target from selling Blue pumpkins because of the gendered implications and the connection to Autism Speaks.

I do not like Autism Speaks. And as a late diagnosed adult autistic woman, you can bet it annoys me that being a woman is one of the main reasons I deal with skepticism all the time. That being said. I am super sick of the devisive litmus test that we keep putting on each other.

“Are you wearing blue, do you like the puzzle piece symbol? You must also like eugenics, then. It’s such an OBVIOUS correlation, right?” No.

Seriously.

I can respect that people have trauma with many of these things. Whether that comes from being emotionally [or physically] wounded by well meaning parents [and therapies,] or being inhibited and ostrasicized by the world. This is such a common experience for our community that I have not met one austistic adult that didn’t have some form of trauma. But this litmust test prejudice has gone so far out of just our community and is tearing the world apart.

I don’t think it is a new concept. I think tribalism has always been apart of us. But with the application of politics and capitalism, it is literally leading to deaths in the street. Deaths.

Like I said, this is not new. It’s a pattern that appears over and over again. In Germany, they had Romanticism that led to free love and harmony for generations, acceptance of transgendered people, sexual revolution, abolition and every liberal idea that you have ever thought of as progessive and modern. The backlash of divisive facism and corruption led to both World Wars. I don’t need to cite anything on this because the information is readily available. Go look it up.

(And I am not saying that the Romanticism didn’t have it’s biases and flaws. It did. It just didn’t kill millions of people because they felt inferior. Again, look it up.)

I love my communities: the gay community, the autistic community, the midwest, and even the United States of America, despite its problems. Not to mention, the nerd community– I wish we were a utopia but we aren’t. We are the home of the in-cels… digression.

Look, I’m just “facebook official” disgusted by man’s inability to deal with its own fears and biases. And that comes from someone with a lot of fears, biases, and sensory issues. The light literally causes me to recoil due to my visual hyperacuity. I can hear electricty ALL THE TIME. [I technically also have a really big problem with smells. They will ruin my life if I don’t do something about it asap.] These things have caused me to be angry and afraid, literally my whole life. Because of this I have had to become incredibly self aware. To know why I feel what I feel at all times.

What is the rest of the world’s excuse? Why must you cling to an idea of what’s right because it “feels good” to you? “Knowing what is right becuase you feel it.” That is literally bias. That is literally tribalism. You are choosing acceptance, and the coddling of your own fears and doubts over your fellow man. Literally, everone is doing this. Republican, Democrat, Gay, straight, religious, secular. We’re all doing it.

We’re so concerned with finding our own people that we are literally dismissing and killing our brother to do it. We are stepping on the necks of other people just to feel comfortable in our righteousness. It’s disgusting.

If you made it this far. It’s probably becuase you too feel like you are shouting in the wind. This is not an “agree to disagree and let’s all be friends” request posting. That’s ridiculous. This is “we’re all wrong, and none of us are right. Not until we accept facts over feelings and identity.”

It’s hard to do what I am suggesting. We are biologically hardwired to find our own, for protection and love. Our communities and our tribes are our empathetic herds that understand us. And all of that is fine until you decide to preemptivetly destroy the rights and lives of another tribe because they make you uncomfortable.

I know. All of this over a blue plastic pumpkin. I just can’t stand back and watch us all be manipulated by our own pyschology, not anymore. Be better. Be more self aware. And finally, Nazis are always bad. We should all be able to agree on this.

Has Indiana Jones taught you nothing, people?”


Then in the comments, an old friend bravely admitted that she had no idea what I was talking about when it came to the blue pumpkin controversy. I say “brave” in all sincerety, because people will jump on you for not knowing something they consider to be important. Despite the fact that you live completely different lives, with different prioroties. To me, asking a genuine question is always preffered to a dismisal. So seriously, good on her. And everyone else should follow suit.

Here’s how I explained it to her:

“Teal pumpkins are for the allergy friendly candy. Someone saw that and decided to use blue pumpkins so their adult autistic son could go trick or treating without people treating him like a deviant or a threat of some kind. I’m totally cool with it. I bought three for anyone else in the autistic community that needs one and can’t find it. My son and I use one year round. Because it doesn’t matter to us. It’s just a blue pumpkin. If it helps anyone to be less of a douche to my son, I’m happy about it. There should be less douchebags in general.

The problem that part of the community has is actually with the catch phrase, “Light it up Blue.” Autism speaks has been using this for a long time. It is in reference to the fact that it was thought only boys could get autism. [Boys, not men. Still insinuating that this is a childhood disease that you can grow out of.]

Then there is the issue that Autism Speaks has supported seriously questionable statements and ironically refuses to listen to Autistic people. [The one Autistic board member that they hired to appease the community had to quit because no one would listen to him.] The best example I can give, is when Trump supporters say “MAGA” at liberals. It’s just a dog whistle for some folks.

[Sidenote: I don’t know what bothers me more about this. The fact that the president’s catchphrase has been reduced to an acronym, or the implication that America was better when everyone “abormal” or “brown” was oppressed. It’s a toss up but I’m probably still gonna have to stick with the latter.]

There is a long and sordid history of abuse in the autistic and mental health community, this [also] isn’t new. But as the perameters for diagnosis are becoming more sophisticated, communication should be better between activists and parents but it just isn’t. Because of greed, prejudice, and righteous indignation. Again, nothing new.

I’m just super sick of it […] sick of cancel culture and the bloodthirsty want for conflict where there shouldn’t be conflict. It’s annoying the crap out of me.

Legit. As an autistic person, I cannot handle it. So, the irony is palpable on this one.”


She was very cool about my answer, if you are curious. And many others were super supportive. And I by no means want to rag on anyone that is offended by the blue pumpkins.

I once went on a rage bender about the song “Jesus Take the Wheel”. I found it irresponsible and offensive as a midwesterner. Everyone knows that you turn into the skid. You don’t let Jesus take care of your baby in the back seat. You take the hit yourself if you have to. Sheesh, Carrie Underwood. The buck stops with you. Not Jesus. Especially when you’re highway driving.

… That was weird… I know…

Ok. Maybe I am not not over that one yet, either. And I would like to publicly apologize to my Border’s bookstore co-workers who had to listen to me bitch about that song everytime it got played over the PA. Turn into the skid, Carrie. Turn into the skid.

Oh, and John was right. This did make a good post. Also, I’m pretty sure I get wife points by publicly declaring it. He’s not always right though. Just so I don’t loose my brat “you’re not the boss of me” card in the same paragraph.

I’m getting silly. I need to sign off and go clean my house. Put up some drywall. All that good stuff.

Be kind to each other. Be self aware. Know yourself and your biases. And turn into the skid.

Adaptations

(If you are wondering how my home renovation is going, I will admit it’s stalled. For just a moment. Not because I lack the energy, even thought that is true. It’s because every time I fix something, it reveals another problem. We’re pausing so that our budget can rebuild before I rebuild our walls. But I know this house like a colonoscopy now. So there’s that, anyway, that’s not why I am here.)

No, I wanted to talk about adaptation.

Because I love adaptation.

This is actually a revolutionary thing for me to say. Because every time I wrote an adaptation for the stage, which I have done a lot in the last dozen years or so… I have loved it. Every minute of it. Taking something and transforming it for the stage, or for children, for a completely different audience than it was originally intended for– whatever. It creates a layered kind of art, a collage that is built upon other references and interpretations. I freaking love it.

But I haven’t been out about that love. Because every time that I write an adaptation, some well meaning person says, “Why don’t you write something original?”

And I get crushed. Just a little bit. Because what I heard is, “Why aren’t you original?” Which if you know what it’s like to be autistic, what it is to mirror, you are sensitive to the ideas of honesty and originality. Wanting to both fit in and pathologically trying to not “copy” anyone else.

I had a dear friend who would go through phases of her favorite colors. And so I would make sure NOT to wear those colors when she was going through those phases. I went to buy a plum colored couch with another one of our friends and I paused, horrified that this was the only color available.

My other friend asked, “I thought you liked this color. What’s the problem?”

And I whispered, “That’s her color. I can’t have it.”

My other friend looked at me and rightly called it. She said, “That’s fucked up.”

It wasn’t that my dear friend would have denied me a plum colored IKEA couch, I just had retained such a fear of revealing my mirroring habits that I had developed a kind of shorthand. Don’t take what isn’t yours, my mind said.

It was fucked up. Because plum is beautiful. And purple belongs to everyone. It was both ridiculous and harrowing for me.

But the truth is… I love to share. I love fangirling and finding others to fan out with. I love the collective conscious of a culture that can make connections through references and shared history.

My husband and I are so deep into reference humor that we use cadence as a form of reference. We change the words, but by the cadence we know exactly what the other is referring to. It might be a little more complicated than the usual kind of communication, but we understand each other. (Yes, we are that one Star Trek episode that is basically about echolalia and the evolution of language.)

What is bringing this up? I am writing a steamy erotic romance adaptation of Little Women. Yes, the most precious of all female coming of age stories. I’m making sure they get laid, and laid well. With wild themes like mental illness, queer sensibilities, and lots of kinky sex. People are gonna want to burn me. But I am loving it. Because as Julie Andrews said, “Does Mary Poppins have orgasms? You bet she does.”

Neurodivergent peoples are forced to adapt to a typical society everyday. I might as well enjoy the adaptations that make me happy.

Oh, and Beth lives.

Take that.

Ambition + Disability

I once told my mother that I just didn’t have her ambitions. It was an explanation of why I kept failing and then running away. Sometimes just avoiding things entirely. The reality is that I have absurd ambitions, they usually get me in to trouble. If I was satisfied with things that are simply good enough, I could be more respectably successful.

Sometimes, it reminds me of Charles Baxter’s, Saul and Patsy. An author recommended by my favorite Uncle, who is also a writer and deals with physical disabilities that I will never understand. Anyway, Saul is constantly jealous of a seemingly ignorant couple that “don’t know” that they aren’t successful and seem so happy anyway. I don’t remember enough of the rest, I need to re-read it, it’s a great book. That part stuck with me though. That and the fact that Patsy created a dance that was beautiful because of its lack of movement. That dichotomy of stillness that is actually full of energy-

That’s me.

That’s why it stuck with me.

Jealous of people that are happy with good enough. Still, because my disabilities make it so difficult to act, but the madness within is an unbearable storm of energy, that sees so much, and wants, wants, wants, so much.

Not greed. Accomplishment. Creativity. Longing.

Maybe respectability too.

Everyone wants to be accepted. And if you cannot be accepted because you are an “other” like so many of us that deal with the symptoms of mental health or physical issues, or are perhaps, just different, you have to do it through accomplishment.

You have to do something incredible to be respected as a handicapped person. It’s so wrong, but that is how it is. Autistic people are only admired when they have a “special talent.” (Same with people of color, I am not borrowing trouble.) And though that is the more obviously autistic that I am referring to, I can tell you that I am pretty obvious when I burn out, talking to myself and rocking back and forth, lashing out. Which seems to be more and more lately.

And I guarantee you my apraxic son will be seen as “obviously” autistic, no matter how smart he is. And he is. He is so smart. Even at four. His therapists used to call him a “bamboozler” because he would quickly work the system to get what he wanted, even if it wasn’t the “right” thing. Like a trapped octopus, breaking out of his cage because he refuses to stay put. Not when there are things that he wants.

Society, which could be read as “expectation”, “normal”, and “respectability” caged me long ago, that and my crippling anxiety of rejection. So, I’ve gone back and forth between stillness and mind-numbing mania- creating, creating, creating.

And none of it up to my ambitious, high standards, just a compulsion to release that energy. That need.

Do you know that feeling? I know that you must, some of you. There is too much out there that echoes that feeling, empathizing, showing that we know. We know what’s that like. Songs, books, plays, art, it all knows, it shows that madness. Non-stop, Never Enough. Written, sung, created by people like me, who pushed past their crippling anxiety long enough to let what they created out into the world. To be loved, to be hated, to be ignored- knowing that you would feel each negative sting like a phantom limb, and the positive would never, never be enough.

How? How did they do it? Is it just that one part gets stronger than the other. Or can you transfer that numbness to your response to the world?

I wish I was an octopus.

How Do You Talk to The Mob?

I’ve been watching Douglas, no not watching, studying Douglas by Hannah Gadsby.

If you’ve read this blog you know that I am a fan of the comedian Hannah Gadsby.

Fan is not even a really good word. She is totally my hero, and my face of representation in media. Seriously, add long hair, a bit more femininity, some pansexual man loving, and that is me. Autistic, writer, woman, advocate; lover of puns, meta jokes, and art history.

The one thing I don’t really have of Hannah’s is her courage.

She’s so damn brave.

Because she takes all of that Autistic writer, advocate, and lover of puns, meta jokes, and art history, and performs. Performs globally. And opens herself up to the mob. How does she do it? How does she talk so directly to the mob?

Not like “the Sopranos” mob, or mafia, but like, the literal, mob- in its most classic definition. The majority. Or you know… people…. Today they are most represented by the angry internet bees and trolls that release their rage through keyboard mania and vitriol, screaming into what they see as the void, but in actuality, is a lot of impressionable people. And I’m not just talking about the people that disagree with me. There are people that agree with me, with my exact opinions and politics, that I don’t like to listen to either, because they give me conflict anxiety with their passion fueled, tone deaf, tirades.

I don’t like conflict. I also don’t like letting people be wrong. I’ve talked about this before.

So, anyway, when I was on Youtube a while back, and I was watching an old Hannah Gadsby routine, and I commented, “She’s my hero.”

Cause you know it’s true. And in case she ever watches her old youtube videos, I wanted her to know. I want everyone who also sees her as a hero to know that I am with them. That they are not alone.

And then, like months later, some man was like, “You’re gonna have to get a new hero. She’s not funny.”

And I had a puffer fish moment. If you’ve seen Douglas or have any autistic or sensitive qualities you will understand that. It was impotent rage.

I wasted a full day trying to draft a response. Finally, I just went with the truth and said, “That’s a really weird comment. She’s my hero. Why do you have a say in my hero, stranger?”

And you wonder why I took a full day for that? Because I will bend over backwards trying to understand the perspective of the other person in a conflict. And I was trying to think of what she had done that I shouldn’t admire her for. And then I remembered. That is just some dude on the internet who is smarting from being the butt of a joke. Yeah, no one likes being the butt of a joke, and I can understand that. But Hannah never makes a joke without some truth in it. So, like she says, she’s punching up. Some people just won’t invest their hurt feeling into growth…

So they just point and yell, “Not funny!”

(Yes, that was a reference to John Mulaney, another funny fucker.)

But of course, bending over backwards to understand that man, pointing at Hannah Gadsby, and because of my comment, also pointing at me by association, and triggering my conflict anxiety— I tried to put myself in his shoes and see if there was any comedy or comedian that smarted my feelings but maybe had some truth in it?

The only one I could think of… might be Dave Chapelle? Because he has offended me before. I’ve frowned at a Netflix special and muttered, “I don’t like that.” But he has never stopped being both funny and smart as hell. I can grow from that. I can take myself less seriously.

Like his bit on the the “Alphabet People” which of course meant, LGBT. On the face of it, it was offensive to be called an alphabet person. But the bit was insightful and hilarious.

I’ve digressed a bit, but my original question is, how do you deal with the mob? So quick to “cancel,” to “puffer fish,” if you will. So full of impotent rage? How do you perform for that without having a nervous breakdown? Because I want to do something on youtube or maybe write another play… I want to do something important and thought provoking, but I don’t want to deal with… all… that…

Dave Chapelle technically did have a nervous breakdown. Do you remember that? At the height of his fame, he quit, went to Africa, and smoked a lot more weed. Pretty sure he is smoking weed in most of his specials lately. Which I think… is actually fucking brilliant. I used to use benzos for this purpose (klonopin or xanax)… But after this most recent bipolar episode, I might have to add something less mood altering. Amaretto sours? Maybe weed? Some gaba-inducing supplement? There is always a line at our local weed dispensary and lines/unknown protocol gives me anxiety. So I, ironically, have been too anxious to visit this location to get weed for my anxiety. I think that means that only one of those Dave Chapelle breakdown options will work for me. And what country of origin would I be able to disappear to… because Germany isn’t really known for its warmth?… Joke. I’m sure modern day Germany is absolutely warm and fuzzy, despite its Nazi past. America can’t judge anyone on its Nazi population anyway.

Hannah Gadsby says she inoculates herself by snacking on the hate. And while that is funny, I am not sure that will work for me. But then again… it might be another way that I am like my hero, Hannah. Because the first conflict about an issue that I am apprehensive about it always the worst, I have a meltdown and I deal. And then the next, is not so bad. So maybe that is just a bad vaccine reaction that I have to deal with.

I think, I just have to be brave.

But maybe I’ll brave the line at the dispensary first.

Instagram, Family, and Special Interest Paintings

I have been staying up WAY too late these nights. Mostly because of my darling son, but also because of my new social media love- instagram. Oh man, is it addicting! But honestly, one of the biggest things that I am really grateful for when it comes to instagram, has very little to do with pretty pictures. Ok, well actually it has a little something to do with it and I will get back to that.

Mostly, I am grateful that it has allowed me to reconnect with my aunt.

This is my Aunt Mary Anne…

Mary Anne or Mae West?

She did this Mae West Tribute show for a long time, and then did some vintage music shows for assisted living facilities where they would appreciate it the most. Which means that she was caring about these older people before they were in danger. Which to me, shows that she was ahead of an all different curve, you know basic humanity and compassion.

She is my father’s sister and the very same aunt I told you about at the beginning of quarantine when I was worried about who I was gonna lose to this sickness. In that post, I also told you about the grandmother that I did lose, shortly after I wrote that, actually. Which meant that when I saw my aunt posting her work outs on instagram it was like I had to see her. I didn’t want to miss my chance with her, like I did with my grandmother. In fact, there is this strange connection that whenever I see her picture, I think “grandma.” Not because she is old enough to be my grandmother, no. It’s just this impetus. It’s like the word “grandma” has become “don’t wait.” Don’t lose her too.

Now, I am not saying my Aunt is going anywhere. She’s incredibly healthy. She does these stair climbing marathons and is doing a virtual one to raise money for Leukemia, her team is called Stair Down Cancer. (Love a good pun.) I just really don’t want to waste anymore time with her.

And seeing her virtually is good enough during this crisis, like I said, despite being ridiculously healthy, she is older than my father. And my uncle, the writer, has MS, and is a quadriplegic. He also has a great blog about their adventures in a handicap accessible RV from a wheelchair perspective, called Wheelie Out There. I think that pun alone shows you how great he is. (Seriously, love a good pun.) But it also shows you that I want them to be safe in this uncertain time.

Picture courtesy of his blog, Wheelie Out There.

Sidenote- When I first met my Uncle John I believe he had a cane. Then a walker. Then a motorized scooter, and now a wheelchair. The interesting thing about that, is that none of my memories of his mobility aides are bad ones. Sure, I didn’t want that for him. But his presence has never been a sad or tragic one. When it was the walker, I remember him showing me the “grassy knoll” in Dallas as we looked over the fence where a “second shooter” might have been. When it was the motorized scooter, I remember him nearly plowing into a hissing goose outside his apartment, a war whoop of glee on the air. What I am saying is, despite his difficulties, which are enough to destroy most people, he has a tremendous spirit. He also skydives. So there’s that.

We’ve made plans to get together once they swing through my little town. And I’m pretty happy about it. Honestly, I’m just hoping I won’t burst into tears when I see them. Undiagnosed autism and other mental health issues can be so isolating. The best thing about getting diagnosed (and the proper medicine) has honestly been “coming out.” It allows you to get over yourself a bit and go after what matters to you. My family will always matter most to me. So it’s like a starting pistol has gone off, and I want to go see everyone. Too bad it happened during a quarantine. Nonetheless, I’m pretty pumped.

I’m also pumped about an idea my aunt gave me over instagram. I was posting some of my old paintings which included this teacup painting I did for an antique shop.

And she suggested that I create painting of rare teacups for collectors. And while I am not sure that I want to necessarily go the teacup route, because rare teacups are usually quite intricate, and would not really be my.. ahem…cup of tea, per se, I really loved the idea of painting a piece that a person might collect. Because you will often find that autistic people are collectors. This also made me think of the other unique special interests that people on the spectrum have. I think sometime in the future I would like to do a series based on such an idea, highlighting those special interests and elevating them into art.

Do you have a special interest that you would like a painting of?

But maybe, more than that, do you want to see your family more? It’s hard living with mental health issues, like I said before. And hopefully, once all this is done, and it’s safe to be with each other once again, maybe it doesn’t have to be so isolating.

Maybe it’s not too late.


The painting is by Salvador Dali. It’s inspired by Mae West, the real life actress my Aunt has made a career out of impersonating.

Finding Kyle and My influences

I have discovered another contemporary artist that I am just in love with. I am slightly embarrassed to say that it was while I was watching decorating shows on hulu at midnight. The show “Good Bones” reminds me so much of my mother and I as a team. Now, my mother and I did theatrical productions, not renovate houses, but it’s the same kind of energy.

Anyway, Kyle Ragsdale made an appearance when the mother-daughter duo were looking for some original art and came to visit his studio, and uh- I reversed the video THREE TIMES trying to catch not only his full name, but all the art in his studio. I wanted to see IT ALL.

But all they said was “Kyle” and I was like, do I just plug into Google “Kyle + Beautiful Art + Indianapolis”? But apparently, yeah, that was all I had to do, because I found him.

Folks. I am loving his work. But I also really enjoyed this moment on his website, where he listed his influences. This long list, with no explanation. And, sure, he listed artists like Gustav Klimt, Gary Hume, and Fiona Raye- but then he also added, golf, Scrabble, The Royal Tennenbaums, and Bjork. I LOVE that. Especially as an autistic person, who often relates and communicates to the rest of the world through references from movies and popular culture. (Think Abed from Community.)

So, I wanted to introduce you to Kyle, yes, but I also wanted to make a similar influences list, with no explanation either. Influences to my art, my writing, my life in general. So take it as you will… again, no particular order, other than my ADHD inattentive brain.

My Influences

  • Harry Potter
  • Battlestar Galactica
  • Texture
  • John Singer Sargent
  • Tricia French
  • Lizzo
  • Zooey Deschanel
  • 1960’s pop art and fashion
  • Audrey Hepburn
  • Paul McCartney
  • Georgia O’Keefe
  • Edward Hopper
  • Gustav Klimt
  • Pattern
  • Hannah Gadsby
  • Radiolab
  • Ira Glass
  • Justice/Responsibility
  • David Bowie
  • Penelope
  • Lady Gaga
  • Neurodiversity
  • Westerns
  • Star Trek
  • Puns
  • Compassion
  • Zombie/apocalyptic novels
  • Disney films
  • Carl Jung
  • Ironic covers of popular songs
  • Mary Blair
  • Margaret Atwood
  • My family
  • Ted Kooser
  • Mary Oliver
  • William Carlos Willams
  • Dolly Parton
  • Christopher Moore
  • Marvel Comics
  • Adam Driver
  • Sandy Powell
  • Emily McDowell
  • Dylan Thomas
  • Nolan Brothers
  • Franz Marc
  • Andrew Wyeth
  • Wassily Kandinsky
  • Jess Franks
  • Michael Carson
  • Anna Bond
  • Typography
  • Hurst Castle
  • Queer Eye
  • Inclusivity
  • Laughter
  • Warmth

And maybe… you? The people that I want to help. Always. You probably influence me the most.

Sensory Issues = Short Temper

I was perusing facebook and I found a gem of an infographic from @mombrain.therapist. So of course I hopped on to instagram, followed her immediately, and found a bunch of other great infographic gems, one on pandemic parenting, another on comparing yourself to other moms, all cute and cartoony with really great information. You should go look. But this particular pic was it for me. It helped me so much.

Visual clutter, bad smells, and bright lights are my biggest hotpoints.

Now technically, I knew a lot of this information already as an autistic person. But for some reason I had not connected it to my patience as a parent (or as a wife really.)

I just knew it was why I was feeling so wrong and why I needed to hide in hyperfocus tv bingeing or some other kind of distraction. Which always makes me even more irritable because there is no progress or problem solving when you’re hiding out in hyperfocus mode. It’s like running in place.

I hate running in place. Treadmills? Don’t get me started. Like, I think Dickensian orphans would be horrified that people use treadmills for exercise now. What’s next? Voluntary debtor’s prison? … There might be a university and student loan comparison, there…. but offtopic.

So, how do I deal with this? I’ve tried the usual fixes. I did the candles, I did the audio book, I upped the ante to some of my favorite music, but with the inability to have my cleaning time without my family… not to mention all the walks that my buddy has me going on (And that whole gluten rash debacle) I’m just stuck. And I was really pissed about it.

Was… that’s the key word. Why am I no longer angry? Was it meditation? Therapy? Good old fashioned gratitude?

No!

I took a Klonopin!

I am not making fun of meditation, therapy, or good old fashioned gratitude, those are definitely a part of my bag of tricks. But the reality is, this isn’t just a foul mood. It’s not a lack of perspective. It’s a sensory reaction. It’s physical. And sometimes physical problems needs physical answers. So I took a klonopin with my daily cocktail. And it helped a lot.

Truly, if I could add klonopin to my daily meds, I would. But I don’t want to develop any kind of resistance to it, because it can be a lifesaver when you are dealing with something just that much extra. Like a global pandemic, near house fire (oh yeah, that happened. I’ll tell you more later) and so much visual clutter that I’m tripping over it.

This is a sidenote, but to explain just how insane my environment is right now… My son… has decided to collect all the floor vents in one place, leaving these rabbit-warren-like holes in my hardwood floor, that I’m pretty sure he’s thrown some toys down. I definitely stepped in one. And for some reason… he pushed my chair into one so that it looked like a sinkhole had developed in my dining room? I am not kidding. I almost wish I had taken a picture but it was just too much.

And in a wonderland like twist, last night while we were sleeping, he woke up and found my cache of slinkies that I bought for him. So there are dozens of slinkies hidden amongst the laundry and clutter. And every once in a while, one will just spring out at you.

I also had started a few projects that I didn’t finish, my fault there, so there are bins of my books and storage and one of my statue models from art school just hanging out in the living room. But really… my kid has been loving that, so I’m not as angry on that one.

I won’t mention how he keeps fondling the butt on this statue. I think it’s the texture… yeah… we will go with that.
The infamous wedding typewriter. Bubba has been loving that too.

So, yeah.

Uh… Now, I just found a melted green crayon in my fresh load of whites.

What was I saying about meditation again?

The Resident… Is Hot

To be fair I have been a fan of Matt Czuchry since his “Gilmore Girl” days when he played Logan Huntzberger.

So now that I can’t do anything that I had planned to do today (like I told Instagram, I’m having some bad allergies today. Which for some might just mean watery eyes, for me it means the skin around my joints gets horrible hives and my hands become very swollen and angry. I can only type right now because I took a double dose of Benedryl.)

Anyway, I’ve been in love with Matt Czurchy for more than a decade. First it was “Gilmore Girls,” then it was “The Good Wife,” and now “The Resident.”

I’ve been binge watching “The Resident” all day, and I have come to several conclusions. One, Matt Czuchry really understands the female gaze. He’s warm and confident. He’s got that “I’m here now and everything will be ok” look down pat.

Second, romance and sexuality are such interesting bedfellows. Technically, I would put my sexuality as Pansexual (I’ve been known to call it bisexual as well, but I get tired of the negativity around being bisexual. Probably why I often resort to the umbrella term “queer.”) I am also heteromantic. Which means that I am sexually attracted to all genders but I’m romantically attracted to the opposite gender. And for a lot of people in the LGBT community, this makes me an inauthentic queer. To that, I’d say the dogeared nude of Marilyn Monroe from my teen years strongly disagrees. That, and my internet history, but we won’t go into that right now. (Maybe later.)

I have considered myself heteromantic for a long time because all my favorite fictional love interests have been men, I also married a man, obviously. BUT I’ve been starting to question that… (the heteromantic part, not my husband. I love him more than anything.) I doubt the heteromantic part mostly because of the lack of strong female love stories out there. When there is a lesbian love story, it is often coupled with the pain of being an outcast or having to hide that love. Kind of puts a damper on happily ever after, don’t you think? And I could never really get into “the L Word” because there was so little loyalty on the show. I do not like betrayal. And “The L Word” was full of betrayal.

But this isn’t about that. It’s about “The Resident”. I totally suggest you start watching it. Not only does it have the wonderful Matt Czuchry, it also has great diversity. And when I say great diversity I mean that it’s not just tokenism diversity, there are legitimately well rounded characters from all backgrounds. Yes I know, the main character is blonde and blue eyed (and dreamy) but it still warms my heart to see more than just that demographic filled out.

And then one last thing that I think is so interesting. They have this unique first person kind of shooting style, where you are temporarily in the point of view of the patient. It’s very interesting, especially if you dig ASMR. And speaking of ASMR, they are also extremely attuned to the senses in their sound design as well. At one point, there was a scene where they were telling the family that a patient had died and all sound dropped out except the familiar tone of flatlined heart monitor. It was super effective and very well done. And surprisingly subtle?

Anyway, I’m watching it on Hulu, now. You should too.

Plans, Plans, Plans… Wait… crap…

So that was a reference to my Plans, Plans, Plans, Yeah! post where I talked about my exciting plans to start an ASMR channel and vlog. Mostly, it was about equipment and my background in photography.

And in my excitement, I forgot the golden rule… Ask the experts.

I mean, we tell autism parents that all the time. Ask Autistics, well, I have now “asked” the ASMRtists and I have more information to pass on to you. I put asked in quotes because what I really did was search for videos on their personal ASMR creation advice. Of which there are a few…

(I kind of wish I had “asked” before I bought some of my equipment, but I am still pretty happy with what I have. Even if I did get carried away… crap, don’t tell my husband I said that. CRAP, he reads these! … Anyway, I’ll get more into that in a minute.)

This is about the experts. So, let me start with my first ASMR love… Gibi ASMR. This video is from 2017, and I like that because it was after she had been filming for about a year, which means that she was still comparatively a beginner, but with legit advice. She’s also, just so smart and likable. So it’s nice to listen to as well.

Continue reading “Plans, Plans, Plans… Wait… crap…”

Dysfunction Breaking Playlist

If you have read my blog before, you might know that Executive Dysfunction is a huge problem for me. Some of it stems from stress, some of it is about my ADHD, then there’s depression, but mostly, it is triggered by environmental dysregulation.

OR MY HOUSE IS A MESS.

Now, a little clutter I can handle. But once things start to overlap, or perhaps, I can’t finish cleaning because the world is in a pandemic and my son and husband never leave, because I want them to stay safe, but I also kind of want them to lock themselves into a room so I clean the rest of the house to my specifications…

That seemed kind of specific didn’t it?

So, I have been having to learn how to deal with my Executive Dysfunction and environmental dysregulation- quarantine style. Which is apparently, a later adderall time and some very loud music.

The adderall thing has to do with timing. And the fact that my son will often have minor panic moments when I start to clean up his toys, because he had them “just so” even if it looks like madness to me. And then because he wants them back at “just so” he will take them away and throw them back all over the living room. He doesn’t mind them being cleaned up when he’s not looking, in fact he loves to take them all out again. Or just enjoy the empty space. He just can’t watch the sausage being made, essentially.

So if i take my adderall at a later time I can stay focused longer, especially after he goes to sleep for the night.

That’s part one. Changing my dose and activity schedule to when my son is asleep.

Now, two, there is a lot I have to do when my son is awake or I will wake him up. Like dishes. Something about that activity will wake him out of his light sleep, even with the fans and the white noise. So, dishes, have to be done during the day. They are also the hardest thing for me to start. I have written about this before. Basically, the dishes are one of the hardest things I do because of sensory issues.

And today, the usual was just not enough. Audiobooks, candles, my usual dish gloves. I just couldn’t handle it.

So I had to find a way to break myself out of it. That means I upped the intensity. Instead of my usual audiobook, I switched to music (more on that in a second.) Instead of candles, I sprayed the room with a favorite fragrance. And instead of my usual dish gloves, I used disposable nitrile gloves. (The industrial blue gloves that you are probably seeing a lot of these days. I know that people are buying them because they are sold out everywhere I usually get them.)

Anyway, it worked! Well, sort of. I got the first load done. Pretty much every dish in my home was dirty, so I have several more loads and handwashing to do, but with my handy dandy “Executive Dysfunction Breaking Playlist” I think I can do it!

Was that a good segue? It felt a little forced…

SO… The playlist! My taste in music is eclectic, it’s true. Everything from indie hipster to global to retro to classical. Basically, it has to evoke some kind of feeling in me. Usually, that’s my only requirement. But when it comes to breaking me out of dysfunction, it has to have a good beat or some kind of crescendo.

And these songs are in no particular order, in my usual fashion, because the actual curation of playlists is something I am still working on.

Continue reading “Dysfunction Breaking Playlist”

Plans, plans, plans! Yeah!

That post title was done to the tune of The Thompson Twins in case you were wondering.

(It was also done before my grandmother passed away and before my grief drove me to my easel. These particular plans I laid out are still on the drawing board, I just had an artist’s detour to deal with the unexpected pain of my grandmother’s death. Back to the original post.)

I am finally, FINALLY starting to feel better. (Technically, I am fully recovered now, but the healing part seems to be taking a little bit longer.) I tried to do a load of laundry- and got winded- so I have to find other ways to revel in my newfound almost health. Therefore, I have decided… to make plans.

I love making plans. When my executive dysfunction was at its worst, that was literally all I did, plans and pinterest. So, yes, planning is not usually the healthiest of progress, but it’s still a lot of fun.

My latest dream is two-fold- no- maybe three-fold. Actually probably four? ANYWAY, let me get to it.

With all the ASMR and youtube I have been consuming during my illness, I would love to get into some form of ASMR and Autism Vlogging. It encompasses so many of my loves- photography, film, lighting, art, ASMR, advocating, writing, and performing. It seems like a goldmine of fulfillment.

Which means that I am now in the best part of planning- RESEARCH! I love RESEARCH! It’s like hyperfocus-ADHD-candy- without the unnecessary sugar!

SO- if anyone out there, dear readers, has wanted to get into vlogging or making a youtube channel, I am doing some of the research for you.

Continue reading “Plans, plans, plans! Yeah!”

I Promised

I promised a pic of my painting, this is a work in progress. I decided on a subtle tribute to Hannah Gadsby’s Nannette. Like I told instagram, it’s pretty ironic that this is what I chose to paint considering that I don’t like sunflowers decoratively. Love the seeds for a snack, but that’s about it.

No, this was about her talk on Vincent Van Gogh, and one of my favorite lines to ever grace the stage. “Do you know why we have the sunflowers? It’s not because Vincent Van Gogh suffered. It’s because Vincent had a brother who loved him.”

So eventually… when I finish this painting, it will be called “Because he had a Brother who Loved him”

If you haven’t seen Nanette, it’s on Netflix. Watch it now.