aspie lovin’

Originally from 4-10-08
Scott once told me I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.    I’m actually very proud of that.
 
I have no idea how to explain that, except that ‘romance’ seems so cliche and sort of scheduled to me that I get the giggles and make fun of just about everything about it.
 
I’ve never been caught up in a romantic moment, but I think that might be more that I haven’t been swept away in my emotional whims in a culturally defined way.  Honestly, I see romance very differently than champagne and roses, walks in the park, kisses in the rain, holding hands on the beach, whatever.  Cliche.
 
Romance is the sweetness of having been friends through it all.  Romance is the aching wait together through thick and thin while you wait for something scary like test results.  Romance is loving someone so much that you’ll hold hands through a really bad terrible day, or month, or year, or even a decade, and still giggle about how stupid some of it was.
 
Of course, I think his idea of romance was pretty weird, too.  Don’t get me wrong, he’s a really sweet guy and always there in a pinch and has never let me down, but…  He once saved money buying armloads of carnations about to be pitched out the back door of a flower shop, so I stood at the sink with a fever going through two bales of nasty decaying carnations so I could put a few in a vase.  I think the flower lady ripped him off.  But not to worry, I’ve also gotten some very excellent flowers.  It’s just that he comes up with these weird surprises sometimes, and he really means well, so his feelings get kinda hurt if I make fun of them.  And I’m aspie, I can’t tell you how hard it is not to laugh…………
 
Here is my very favorite story from our whole marriage, which will be 15 years in August.
 
It had been a rough week, I felt yucky, the kids were underfoot (gradeschool and middle school), work was dumb for both of us, whatever we were snappy about wasn’t making sense, and without thinking I shot off “Why don’t you ever call me a term of endearment?  You’ve never called me honey or dear or darling or anything like that.”  He asked me what I’d like to be called, which, as you ladies know, is ~bad~.  I huffed off and completely forgot all about it.  (I’d like to say to the people reading this who HAVEN’T been married five or ten years with kids, this is completely normal and sane behavior on both sides.)
 
About a week later, it’s dark, the kids are in bed, he’s busy on me, and suddenly everything stops, I feel his mouth on my ear, and he whispers “Cupcake.”  Then he got busy again.
 
Cupcake?  Why did he say cupcake?  Did he *want* a cupcake?  Was I supposed to make him some cupcakes?  I know he ~likes~ cupcakes.  Is he hungry?
 
    You’ll have to bless my little aspie heart, all this is flashing through my mind like a big puzzle and he has no idea I’m no longer in the moment, when it hit me– THAT was the term of endearment!  And before I could stop myself I was stifling giggles at how unromantic and weird that was, and every time ‘cupcake’ went back through my head I was suffocating myself more and more trying not to laugh, but it crescendoed until I had to gasp, and next thing you know I’m laughing and laughing….
 
Poor Scott.  He’s in the middle of it, I’m laughing hysterically, and I can’t even tell him why because I can barely breathe.  He stopped, turned on the light, and huffed off into the bathroom.  I gasped in after him, still doubled over in gales of laughter, wiping tears from my eyes, and he’s so hurt he won’t look at me or speak to me.  He avoided me for three days.  And he never, *ever* called me cupcake again.
 
Years later, that memory still sends me into fits of giggles, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.  Scott knows the whole story now, he understands me.  He’s probably not exactly ok with it, but it’s such a little thing to him that he completely forgets all about it.  For me, however, that is a precious memory.  Two completely different minds meeting in a world of love.  That story is a very good picture of our whole marriage, all the crazy misunderstandings and goofy stumbling around that two people go through in a friendship that lasts for years.  I have Asperger’s, he has Attention Deficit Disorder.  I cannot think of a more romantic memory than looking back over the years at how we learned how to laugh together over everything dumb between us.  Some day, if he goes first, people will wonder why I have to stifle a little giggle while I wipe my tears.
 
It takes a brave man to keep making love in the face of a woman laughing.  Scott would really miss me laughing if I stopped and got all gooey and romantic on him.  I think we have more fun just laughing than any other couple I’ve met.  I can’t help it, sex is just so weird, and stupid things pop into my head like how dumb frogs look doing it and stuff.
 
Valentine’s Day is funny because I don’t get the least bit gooey, but Scott gets all sappy about his favorite candy and sits there lovingly eating those little hearts while he watches tv.  He’ll buy himself candy and forget all about me.  Cracks me up.  I love watching him be himself.  I think some people miss seeing the unique stuff when they insist on romance.

I have yet to come across a help article for compulsive reading addiction

Up at 2 a.m. spinning my brain through miles of random articles linked via twitter, missing the days of yore when I would obsessively read ancient thick recipe books in the wee hours. Twitter is a smorgasbord of brain candy, I love it, but I need something dulling my brain right now, not revving it up.

glasses3

I’ve had strange obsessions with rules of social etiquette and table service since middle…

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lost in space

Originally posted on my personal blog. Having trubba pulling it over here, sorry it’s mangled a bit & squashed up & the youtubes are missing.

Time didn’t exist yesterday so I was surprised how much I got done with the clock randomly jumping a couple of hours here and there. People who crave the effects of pot would love being in my head. I’m just like this all the time nowadays, but yesterday was spacier than usual. See what I mean, time just slipped again while I was wowing thru pix, click for your own experience.

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I did a little quick pinning while I was spacing out.
spacelips
This week Jenny mentioned her triggers and Anne told us her story and lots more people are writing how they feel. I wrote circus baby yesterday myself. It’s not very good, more like a splat, but I know from long experience to just keep talking. I have spent very long days alone for years in a rural subdivision while Scott works. Most of the people around here are gone all day. I can’t even count how many days I’ve driven into town just to be around people during severe anxiety attacks. Some days I can barely touch the steering wheel with a finger tip while I drive, but I know it’s important to get somewhere around people. Sometimes when I’m driving I call people and tell them to keep me talking while I drive. This has been going on for years.
I keep thinking I really don’t want to say too much yet, because it’s going into the book. But it’s important. I’m not afraid to talk about it any more. Anxiety and depression can get so bad that the mind splinters, and you can’t tell when stuff is real or not. You can’t tell what things floating around in your mind are just dreams or memories or wishing really hard for something. You can’t tell if the wall or door you can feel right in front of you is really there. You can’t tell yourself that you won’t be able to float or fly if you lean too far off a deck. I have been there. I have been talked through it over time with a psychologist who has known me for seven years. I’ve been monitored for a year by a psychiatrist who has finally stopped pushing me to go on head meds because I complied with other things he said to do. A neurologist has ruled out illness and trauma because the physical involvement has been so entangled. My regular doctor keeps a very close watch on me. And finally, the reason I got Scott onto twitter is so he can watch me from work. If he can see me tweeting, he knows I’m getting through my day. He can gauge how I’m handling things. My whole family is involved, a team of doctors is involved, and some of my twitter/blog followers are involved. People can check on me continually. I have set it up that way on purpose.
If you feel like you are sinking or drowning or caught in a sticky mire or feel panicky about leaving your house or whatever, make a Plan, and get people involved by letting them know what you are doing. Several years ago when everything fell completely apart for me, I made a Plan. If I could get nothing else done, I would at least log into a blog and write a paragraph. Once I was able to do that for a week, I added at least making supper to my list. Poor Scott, if I could get nothing else done besides a paragraph in a blog, at least the guy would get something fresh and hot and yummy to eat. Believe it or not, I still struggle with that because time passing is such a non-issue for me. But after I got the hang of at least trying to do that regularly for a week, I added Do one load of laundry every day. Over time (it’s been 8 years since I finally admitted I can’t hide not being normal and capable any more) I have been able to add stuff to a very regular routine to the point where I’m actually feel like I’m getting a lot done, even on really bad days.
The key is routine. Take it from an aspie, routine WORKS. Very first thing is rounding up my brain. Next thing is What am I going to do next? What do I need to do next? What am I doing right now? You wouldn’t believe how many times a day I stand around staring, and then go Oh, yeah. I can barely keep together what day it is. Hey look, here is a sample from a couple of years ago. Click to make it big so you can read it.
 photo jesuisloser.jpg
And that’s nothing. I missed my daughter being 30 weeks pregnant on her 30th birthday last year. If anyone is a loser, it’s me. But you know what? I’m learning so much about my mother that I didn’t understand when I was younger. I get now why she got so wacky. I get how hard she kept trying even when all we could see was fail. I get why she finally gave up and let diabetes ravage her. We got the message, thank goodness. Not in time, sadly, but maybe in time for OURSELVES.

This has been a rough week for a lot of people. Keep moving, keep finding distractions to keep you busy, find a way to stay in touch with other people. Your story is just as important as everyone else’s.

You all know by now my obsession for distraction is youtube.  photo monkey16.gif Thank God for fans.

http://youtu.be/YfY1lfFu8j8 

http://youtu.be/_lvG0jm0B5Y

http://youtu.be/ic6oq2D_c5s

circus baby

Originally posted on my personal blog.

One of those extremely rare mornings where I luxuriously sleep in past 7:30 and wake up to two different people trying to get hold of me for help with something. I’ve got years of private blog posts full of how I feel about constantly being needed and yanked around by a convergence of other people’s drama probs from several directions like I’m a cosmic…

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