Suicide By Proxy by Faith Sarver
She's a little part of me, living in a fantasy world
meeting fake people, seeking fake goals, and happy endings
bearing her own fake name, drowning in her imagined fame
from the gallery of peanuts dividing up my brain
she has her own childhood memories
easilt crafted and colored in the lines
printed like a photo
not a child's scrawl
she knows what's going on before the day occurs
she can cheat her way
with a special line to god
never faces the monotony of a normal day
but she's still a part of me
her nature is my own
in taking on her world
takes off more than she can chew
so I'm committing suicide by proxy
to relieve the pressure inside
too much to feel, too much to do, her and I
her frustrations feed my own
committing suicide by proxy
with her death her responsibilties fade
though hers were fake, with them erased
the burden is lightened, my shoulders rise
I'll have time, to rest my mind
Until, by nature, she's remade.
...looking out my eyes...
...speaking with my voice...
...burying my cries...
...he drives away my friends...
...locks me in my head...
...and if I were to kill him...
...we would both be dead...
One-Of-A-Mind-Bear
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Things to Keep, Pt 1
So I have discovered something from my childhood I definitely want to keep. My father had this thing about "talking the way you write, not writing the way you talk". This has turned me into an excellent writer.
I have come to value when people speak with a subject and verb in their sentences. It makes it so even when people are coming from completely different points of vew they still have a common lexicon. The words they use have a common meaning.
I can't satnd when people use sland and abbreviations over the internet. The question "how r u" makes me want to strangle someone. But I can ignore it most of the time. However, when people take that and put it back into the spoken language it drives me crazy. I can deal with people adding -sits-, or some other verb in their text box. But if you are talking to me, don't just say "sits" or "sprawls". Use the english language. It was created for a reason.
My father always said that sland was created to separate people, to set themselves apart. I always thought that was stupid. But even if it isn't done intentionally, it still serves to separate us. If we have a language, wouldn't it be wonderful if when we said something we meant the same thing?
It would make life so much easier, especially for someone with treouble reading body cues. You could just look at the words and know and at worse, ask for a clarification.
1. Think about what you want to communicate
2. Say what you mean and mean what you say
3. Make sure the words you use mean what you think they do
I had a very good vocabulary from early on. I knew what words meant ( and if I didn't, he made sure I did.)
When I say a couple, I mean two. When I say a few, I mean three. Was that so hard?
Reading was also a big part of my childhood. My biggest reading problem wasquickly running out of books. If you don't see a word you won't learn it.
Words are very powerful. I want to see them kept pure. When a word means too many things, it means nothing. The best example I have may seem offensive, but I don't mean it that way. When someone says something about "Christians" it makes a problem. Everyone has such a different view; there are so many different denominations and beliefs... what makes a Christian? Not even all "christians" believe in Christ. (This is not a rant on Christianity or religion at all, just the words used to talk about it.)
From the english classes I've been in it seems to be about how to write papers for the best grade or interpreting someone else's work, quite possibly in ways they never meant. I wrote a poem in highschool. Then the teacher "interpreted it". It was absolute bull.
Words and writing are an art. Can we make them beautiful again?
I have come to value when people speak with a subject and verb in their sentences. It makes it so even when people are coming from completely different points of vew they still have a common lexicon. The words they use have a common meaning.
I can't satnd when people use sland and abbreviations over the internet. The question "how r u" makes me want to strangle someone. But I can ignore it most of the time. However, when people take that and put it back into the spoken language it drives me crazy. I can deal with people adding -sits-, or some other verb in their text box. But if you are talking to me, don't just say "sits" or "sprawls". Use the english language. It was created for a reason.
My father always said that sland was created to separate people, to set themselves apart. I always thought that was stupid. But even if it isn't done intentionally, it still serves to separate us. If we have a language, wouldn't it be wonderful if when we said something we meant the same thing?
It would make life so much easier, especially for someone with treouble reading body cues. You could just look at the words and know and at worse, ask for a clarification.
1. Think about what you want to communicate
2. Say what you mean and mean what you say
3. Make sure the words you use mean what you think they do
I had a very good vocabulary from early on. I knew what words meant ( and if I didn't, he made sure I did.)
When I say a couple, I mean two. When I say a few, I mean three. Was that so hard?
Reading was also a big part of my childhood. My biggest reading problem wasquickly running out of books. If you don't see a word you won't learn it.
Words are very powerful. I want to see them kept pure. When a word means too many things, it means nothing. The best example I have may seem offensive, but I don't mean it that way. When someone says something about "Christians" it makes a problem. Everyone has such a different view; there are so many different denominations and beliefs... what makes a Christian? Not even all "christians" believe in Christ. (This is not a rant on Christianity or religion at all, just the words used to talk about it.)
From the english classes I've been in it seems to be about how to write papers for the best grade or interpreting someone else's work, quite possibly in ways they never meant. I wrote a poem in highschool. Then the teacher "interpreted it". It was absolute bull.
Words and writing are an art. Can we make them beautiful again?
Friday, January 19, 2007
Twist and shout...
It happened again. I get this feeling in my chest, not exactly a physical feeling. Like something twisting... I get anxious and a bit manic maybe... I get the urge to do weird things like touch people in a weird way, moves strangely, make strange noises, and jump around and the urge to do... something... I don't know what to do. I hold it back which makes it all worse.
It feels so weird.
Grr.
It feels so weird.
Grr.
Do you feel any anger towards God because of your disability?
Do you feel any anger towards God because of your disability?
The subject of God and disability is complicated, because it doesn't just involve MY disability. My father is an Aspie and my sister is a Wheeler. My sister had a gradual shift from walkie to wheeler with a congential hip problem. She also has hearing and audio-processing problems. Both of these issues were relatively obvious compared to my undiagnosed autism.
She "had it out" with God early on, around 11, before she was a wheeler. She became a true christian. Too many christians do not practice what they preach, but I can truly respect her faith. My father shoved it down my throat so hard I gagged. I am very prejudiced against "christian" things. He is not a hypocrate, but he can be relentless and not empathetic at all, go figure.
I was depressed and unhappy as a child. I was just as misunderstood at church as anywhere else. I felt no attachment to "God", nothing. And because I was a rebellious child, I shot to the complete opposite of the spectrum. I explored wicca and various pagan religions. Eventually I took up Kemeticism, the ancient egyption religion. It is not actually at heart a multi-god religion, but holds that each "god"is a face of God.
In my life though, my definition of God has changed. God is not infallible, omnipotent. Therefore, they can't be blamed for everything. Were I to believe in a perfect God, I just may. But I have seen very little in this world to indicate a perfect God.
Some would say I lost my faith, but in truth I never really had it. Saying prayers as a five year old doesn't mean much. As a thinking person, I have not found anything to substantiate the christian view. Mind you, my soul is in a endless quest for the truth. As I tell my father, maybe I'll find my way back if it is true.
I don't agree with most Kemeticists. That doesn't bother me. I don't really agree with anyone on anything.
Faith is personal. I think what matters in the end is whether you truly believed something to be true and pure.
However, in the end, blame is useless. Things are how they are. Accept them and go on. If you can accept them and build from there. Life gives you lemons, make lemon and pepper steak.
The subject of God and disability is complicated, because it doesn't just involve MY disability. My father is an Aspie and my sister is a Wheeler. My sister had a gradual shift from walkie to wheeler with a congential hip problem. She also has hearing and audio-processing problems. Both of these issues were relatively obvious compared to my undiagnosed autism.
She "had it out" with God early on, around 11, before she was a wheeler. She became a true christian. Too many christians do not practice what they preach, but I can truly respect her faith. My father shoved it down my throat so hard I gagged. I am very prejudiced against "christian" things. He is not a hypocrate, but he can be relentless and not empathetic at all, go figure.
I was depressed and unhappy as a child. I was just as misunderstood at church as anywhere else. I felt no attachment to "God", nothing. And because I was a rebellious child, I shot to the complete opposite of the spectrum. I explored wicca and various pagan religions. Eventually I took up Kemeticism, the ancient egyption religion. It is not actually at heart a multi-god religion, but holds that each "god"is a face of God.
In my life though, my definition of God has changed. God is not infallible, omnipotent. Therefore, they can't be blamed for everything. Were I to believe in a perfect God, I just may. But I have seen very little in this world to indicate a perfect God.
Some would say I lost my faith, but in truth I never really had it. Saying prayers as a five year old doesn't mean much. As a thinking person, I have not found anything to substantiate the christian view. Mind you, my soul is in a endless quest for the truth. As I tell my father, maybe I'll find my way back if it is true.
I don't agree with most Kemeticists. That doesn't bother me. I don't really agree with anyone on anything.
Faith is personal. I think what matters in the end is whether you truly believed something to be true and pure.
However, in the end, blame is useless. Things are how they are. Accept them and go on. If you can accept them and build from there. Life gives you lemons, make lemon and pepper steak.
Disability Questions
1) If you could re-live your life without having your disability, would you?
The only reason for certain I'd say no, is my daughter. If I did I'd be a different person. But I'd still have been raised with two other disabled person in my family. So I'd still be the odd man out, just in my family, not the world. So, I suppose not.
2) Do you want people to show interest by asking personal questions about your disability?
Most people don't know about it. Not because I hide it, but because they don't care enough to get to know me. They just don't bother to put the effort in to get past my wall. If someone noticed something and asked, I'd be very impressed. It would showtha they paid enough attention to care.
3) What is the hardest thing in life for you to do?
I have a very hard time maintaining friendships with people. If I manage to actually make a friend, which is hard for me. I have to fight the urge to just stay under the radar and then manage to not screw up in the attempt. Keeping a friend is harder. I don't keep in contact with people I don't see regularly. I don't do small talk and my interests are fairly focused.
The friends I have are people who seek me out and understand I won't do the same. Many of them were originally around to see my sister who has a very high charisma. Many of them are still around because of her and less so me. I don't "do" things. I'm not interested in movies, msot games, etc.
5) Do you resent people that try to help you?
No, but I don't think people understand that I need help. I've done a fairly good job at being "independent". I'd like to think I wouldn't resent it, but I can't be sure.
My Fiance tries I think, but he tends to do it in a half-assed, obviously rather be doing something else fashion most of the time.
6) Would you rather do things on your own?
No, I've always been somewhat co-dependent, when I have someone to rely on.
7) Do you feel any anger towards God because of your disability?
Wow... that's complicated. I'll make a separate post on that.
8) What do you dislike the most of other people around you (ex- people staring, pointing, etc)?
Making assumptions and not bothering to ask me what I meant...
9) What is the best way for us to help you?
I'm not entirely sure. I'm very lost. I need friends.
10) Do you feel awkward when you are around people that are different than you?
Always, and that is most of the time I am not at home.
The only reason for certain I'd say no, is my daughter. If I did I'd be a different person. But I'd still have been raised with two other disabled person in my family. So I'd still be the odd man out, just in my family, not the world. So, I suppose not.
2) Do you want people to show interest by asking personal questions about your disability?
Most people don't know about it. Not because I hide it, but because they don't care enough to get to know me. They just don't bother to put the effort in to get past my wall. If someone noticed something and asked, I'd be very impressed. It would showtha they paid enough attention to care.
3) What is the hardest thing in life for you to do?
I have a very hard time maintaining friendships with people. If I manage to actually make a friend, which is hard for me. I have to fight the urge to just stay under the radar and then manage to not screw up in the attempt. Keeping a friend is harder. I don't keep in contact with people I don't see regularly. I don't do small talk and my interests are fairly focused.
The friends I have are people who seek me out and understand I won't do the same. Many of them were originally around to see my sister who has a very high charisma. Many of them are still around because of her and less so me. I don't "do" things. I'm not interested in movies, msot games, etc.
5) Do you resent people that try to help you?
No, but I don't think people understand that I need help. I've done a fairly good job at being "independent". I'd like to think I wouldn't resent it, but I can't be sure.
My Fiance tries I think, but he tends to do it in a half-assed, obviously rather be doing something else fashion most of the time.
6) Would you rather do things on your own?
No, I've always been somewhat co-dependent, when I have someone to rely on.
7) Do you feel any anger towards God because of your disability?
Wow... that's complicated. I'll make a separate post on that.
8) What do you dislike the most of other people around you (ex- people staring, pointing, etc)?
Making assumptions and not bothering to ask me what I meant...
9) What is the best way for us to help you?
I'm not entirely sure. I'm very lost. I need friends.
10) Do you feel awkward when you are around people that are different than you?
Always, and that is most of the time I am not at home.
Monday, January 15, 2007
How do Dragons love?
When I was little I would tell my father "I love you." He would say something along the lines of, "No you don't. If you loved me, you would do as I say." If you asked him what love was he'd go on and on about how love is not a "wishy-washy" emotion.
In recent conversations, after discovering autism in the family, I have heard this quote about he and I when I was little, "she made it so I couldn't love her. it wasn't safe." He and I would have volatile fights, often leading to violence. Then he just ignored me.
My father is an Aspie. He doesn't relate to adults well and has no empathy or understanding at all for children. He avoids my daughter most of the time and when he does give advice I often find it lacking.
As an adult, the subject of love flummoxes me. I've never understood why people found others attractive or not. My relationship history from my late teens is filled with promiscuity and anxiety. I tried to fit in , but the only way I could cope with large groups and parties was to go completely manic, which stressed me out more.
Then I decided I would find someone I could turn into what I wanted. I wanted a baby, preferably more than one. I've desperately wanted a child since I was little. I knew if I waite dto do everything I was "supposed to do" first, it would be a very long time.
I am engaged and I have an infant daughter. I don't have a romantic tale of how I fell in love. Some days I can't honestly say I'm in love at all because I don't understand the concept. I grew up to learn that love was something that you built up and you had to put a lot of work into it.
I am engaged to someone I met in High School. We weren't even friends then. We had the same friends and continues to meet socially. One day, it just clicked. He was important. It took two year before we actually started dating. Three months later we were living together. A year later we were engaged and a year after that we were pregnant.
We got engaged in a completely unromantic scene where I threatened to ask him. His manly pride wouldn't allow it. Instead of waiting for emotions to build and see how thigs go as other people decsribe this "Dating Process", I would rather jump into and make it work. Build it from there.
He is fairly helpless in practical matters, which leaves me to take care of them. This can be annoying. However, I am a complete control freak so maybe it's better that way.
I may not know alot about love and emotion but love must exist. Because Dan still puts up with me, despite everything.
And of course, I love my daughter unconditionally.
In recent conversations, after discovering autism in the family, I have heard this quote about he and I when I was little, "she made it so I couldn't love her. it wasn't safe." He and I would have volatile fights, often leading to violence. Then he just ignored me.
My father is an Aspie. He doesn't relate to adults well and has no empathy or understanding at all for children. He avoids my daughter most of the time and when he does give advice I often find it lacking.
As an adult, the subject of love flummoxes me. I've never understood why people found others attractive or not. My relationship history from my late teens is filled with promiscuity and anxiety. I tried to fit in , but the only way I could cope with large groups and parties was to go completely manic, which stressed me out more.
Then I decided I would find someone I could turn into what I wanted. I wanted a baby, preferably more than one. I've desperately wanted a child since I was little. I knew if I waite dto do everything I was "supposed to do" first, it would be a very long time.
I am engaged and I have an infant daughter. I don't have a romantic tale of how I fell in love. Some days I can't honestly say I'm in love at all because I don't understand the concept. I grew up to learn that love was something that you built up and you had to put a lot of work into it.
I am engaged to someone I met in High School. We weren't even friends then. We had the same friends and continues to meet socially. One day, it just clicked. He was important. It took two year before we actually started dating. Three months later we were living together. A year later we were engaged and a year after that we were pregnant.
We got engaged in a completely unromantic scene where I threatened to ask him. His manly pride wouldn't allow it. Instead of waiting for emotions to build and see how thigs go as other people decsribe this "Dating Process", I would rather jump into and make it work. Build it from there.
He is fairly helpless in practical matters, which leaves me to take care of them. This can be annoying. However, I am a complete control freak so maybe it's better that way.
I may not know alot about love and emotion but love must exist. Because Dan still puts up with me, despite everything.
And of course, I love my daughter unconditionally.
Naming the dragon...
I was raised as a strict, fundamentalist christian. Being myself, I rebelled.... all the way to other end of the spectrum. I suppose I could be called pagan, but that's a rather vague term. I disbelieve all dogma, but like to pull philosophy and bits from all over.
One thing that I clearly identified with was the idea of Otherkin. This is the idea that you are a human with the spirit of something else. I've heard of fairies, animals, angels, demons, mythological creatures...
In my case, it was a dragon. I was convinced that I was the reicarnation of a dragon. I believed it so much I had a dream about a dragon and I completely bought into it. What were my draconic traits? Hoarding, stubborness, volatile temper, not relating to "humans".... sound familiar to anyone?
Having seen similar traits in my father, I concluded he was also a dragon.
I have accepted that I am autistic. Whether I am a dragon or that was just a coping mechanism... that will take a lot longer to work out. I've talked with other "dragons" and otherkin of many sorts. The ones I know well, are certianly not neurotypical.
I was recently approached by an old friend who want some advice on "new memories" they'd gained. They now think they are part fae. Mind you this revelation came through while they were high. It shook me a bit. How many people come to these conclusions on such a basis? What did I base my own "dragon-ness" on? I don't remember exactly how it started.
I named that part of me, the Dragon. Her name came to me in that dream. Eth'Nora. Mind you, I've always had fairly vivid dreams. Many of my stories come from them.
I believe that everyone has a spiritual self. And even buying into the otherkin idea, I have been convinced that you are what you decide to be. So I think that this conflict will be dealt with by faith. I am autistic and There's a Dragon in My Soul...
Party on folks...
One thing that I clearly identified with was the idea of Otherkin. This is the idea that you are a human with the spirit of something else. I've heard of fairies, animals, angels, demons, mythological creatures...
In my case, it was a dragon. I was convinced that I was the reicarnation of a dragon. I believed it so much I had a dream about a dragon and I completely bought into it. What were my draconic traits? Hoarding, stubborness, volatile temper, not relating to "humans".... sound familiar to anyone?
Having seen similar traits in my father, I concluded he was also a dragon.
I have accepted that I am autistic. Whether I am a dragon or that was just a coping mechanism... that will take a lot longer to work out. I've talked with other "dragons" and otherkin of many sorts. The ones I know well, are certianly not neurotypical.
I was recently approached by an old friend who want some advice on "new memories" they'd gained. They now think they are part fae. Mind you this revelation came through while they were high. It shook me a bit. How many people come to these conclusions on such a basis? What did I base my own "dragon-ness" on? I don't remember exactly how it started.
I named that part of me, the Dragon. Her name came to me in that dream. Eth'Nora. Mind you, I've always had fairly vivid dreams. Many of my stories come from them.
I believe that everyone has a spiritual self. And even buying into the otherkin idea, I have been convinced that you are what you decide to be. So I think that this conflict will be dealt with by faith. I am autistic and There's a Dragon in My Soul...
Party on folks...
Sunday, January 14, 2007
"Them" Becomes "Us"
As a pre-school teacher it is my job to spot learning disabilities and other "problems" so that they can be addressed early on. Previous to discovering my own differences, or at least knowing exactly how to label those differences, I thought of these children as "them". This is not to say I didn't like them or had anything against them. I love all the children I work with. Of course I don't like them all, as that would be against human nature.
In most cases I have a much easier time dealing with a difficult child after having identified them as different. Pardon my termonology, I don't mean any offense, I just don't have better ways of putting it yet. I see many children. Many are extremely spoiled and that is why they are so... well in my profession the word "bad" is a no-no. But some childrem are really just bad, bratty, evil incarnate... you get my drift.
Discipline for children in my mind is a very difficult topic. I was physiaclly abused as a child. My father meant well. He was a fundamentalist chrsitian that truly believed in the adage "spare the rod, spoil the child". However, as I have read in other exanmples of chldren raised by Aspie parents, he took it too far. To this day he is convinced he did nothing wrong, though the discovery of Aspergr's in the family may change that. Because of this, part of me thinks that all physical punishment is bad.
Practically speaking, that doesn't work. I work in a setting that disallows most forms of punishment. "Time outs" are even forbidden. The effect of this is a mob of children who do whatever they want because they know that I can't do anything about it. At most I can tell their parents and if they become to crazy the family is asked to leave.
I don't think pain should be used as a punishment, but sometimes the schock value of a swat can break a child out of a tantrum. In short, discipline is necessary. Abuse, is not.
Back to my original point, my view of children with mental disabilities is in the process of re-working itself. Last year, I worked with a class of 2.5-3.5 year olds. That year I had more "difficult" children than any other. Two were asked to leave and one still remains in the school. (Genders changed to protect identity)
One was hyperactive. I didn't demand that (s)he participate. But she wasn't content to do her own thing. She would jump on me when I was trying to teach. Then she started biting, not the other children, just me. I didn't dislike her or deny her right to be in a school, but I was alone with seven pre-schoolers. I had to take care of all of them at the same time. I couldn't be one on one with her. I couldn't help her and that frustrated me.
The next two both had parents that were in severe denial. They didn't want to acknowledge a problem. One was completely uncommunicative. (S)he never interacted with anyone else. (S)he never went along with the group. All that was fine. I can deal with that. However, she was not potty trained and refused to let me change her. She was very large and heavy. Plus I was pregnant. I refused to wrestle with her. The parents eventually "pulled her out"/was asked to leave when they refused to listen and believe what was happening.
The last case is that of a child who has signs of autism very obviously. His mother's excuse for doing nothing was that he was just like his father. I'm not saying he should be medicated or anything. However, if his differences were acknowledged he wouldn't be pushed into things he can't handle or understand. He is not potty trained because he doesn't think it's importnat nd doesn't care (I think). Because of that he can't move to pre-k.
More so than my frustration against parents, my point is my changing persepctive and feelings of guilt. The last child most of all, I feel guilty about my negative emotions about them. The first two less so than the last. He/she couldn't have known it, but when I was pregnant tehy seemed to go out of their way to hit me. Once, out of the blue with an angelic smile, he/she punched me in the stomach.
I feel guilty about how I feel about them, more so now. I know full well that it's not their fault and I know that emotions aren't rational. But still, there is an immense feeling of guilt that I still haven't forgiven them. This is the closest I've come to hating a child.
Now that these children aren't part of some other group, "them" and I can identify as someone with similar problems, it muddles the issue. We are now "us". And I am bothered that I had such feelings against one of "us". I feel I should have been more understanding, somehow dealt better. Maybe in the future I might.
Before anyone flames me:
I do not hate autistic childrenor child with delays.
I do not condone child abuse.
This just me working through my own mental processes.
In most cases I have a much easier time dealing with a difficult child after having identified them as different. Pardon my termonology, I don't mean any offense, I just don't have better ways of putting it yet. I see many children. Many are extremely spoiled and that is why they are so... well in my profession the word "bad" is a no-no. But some childrem are really just bad, bratty, evil incarnate... you get my drift.
Discipline for children in my mind is a very difficult topic. I was physiaclly abused as a child. My father meant well. He was a fundamentalist chrsitian that truly believed in the adage "spare the rod, spoil the child". However, as I have read in other exanmples of chldren raised by Aspie parents, he took it too far. To this day he is convinced he did nothing wrong, though the discovery of Aspergr's in the family may change that. Because of this, part of me thinks that all physical punishment is bad.
Practically speaking, that doesn't work. I work in a setting that disallows most forms of punishment. "Time outs" are even forbidden. The effect of this is a mob of children who do whatever they want because they know that I can't do anything about it. At most I can tell their parents and if they become to crazy the family is asked to leave.
I don't think pain should be used as a punishment, but sometimes the schock value of a swat can break a child out of a tantrum. In short, discipline is necessary. Abuse, is not.
Back to my original point, my view of children with mental disabilities is in the process of re-working itself. Last year, I worked with a class of 2.5-3.5 year olds. That year I had more "difficult" children than any other. Two were asked to leave and one still remains in the school. (Genders changed to protect identity)
One was hyperactive. I didn't demand that (s)he participate. But she wasn't content to do her own thing. She would jump on me when I was trying to teach. Then she started biting, not the other children, just me. I didn't dislike her or deny her right to be in a school, but I was alone with seven pre-schoolers. I had to take care of all of them at the same time. I couldn't be one on one with her. I couldn't help her and that frustrated me.
The next two both had parents that were in severe denial. They didn't want to acknowledge a problem. One was completely uncommunicative. (S)he never interacted with anyone else. (S)he never went along with the group. All that was fine. I can deal with that. However, she was not potty trained and refused to let me change her. She was very large and heavy. Plus I was pregnant. I refused to wrestle with her. The parents eventually "pulled her out"/was asked to leave when they refused to listen and believe what was happening.
The last case is that of a child who has signs of autism very obviously. His mother's excuse for doing nothing was that he was just like his father. I'm not saying he should be medicated or anything. However, if his differences were acknowledged he wouldn't be pushed into things he can't handle or understand. He is not potty trained because he doesn't think it's importnat nd doesn't care (I think). Because of that he can't move to pre-k.
More so than my frustration against parents, my point is my changing persepctive and feelings of guilt. The last child most of all, I feel guilty about my negative emotions about them. The first two less so than the last. He/she couldn't have known it, but when I was pregnant tehy seemed to go out of their way to hit me. Once, out of the blue with an angelic smile, he/she punched me in the stomach.
I feel guilty about how I feel about them, more so now. I know full well that it's not their fault and I know that emotions aren't rational. But still, there is an immense feeling of guilt that I still haven't forgiven them. This is the closest I've come to hating a child.
Now that these children aren't part of some other group, "them" and I can identify as someone with similar problems, it muddles the issue. We are now "us". And I am bothered that I had such feelings against one of "us". I feel I should have been more understanding, somehow dealt better. Maybe in the future I might.
Before anyone flames me:
I do not hate autistic childrenor child with delays.
I do not condone child abuse.
This just me working through my own mental processes.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Life without a plot...
Disability Blog Carnival #7: Disability in the Arts
As it says in my bio, I am an aspiring writer. Or at least I used to be. I was a very good story writer and poet from very early on. I published my first poems in sixth grade. I was the first freshman in my highschool to get into the Quill and Scroll, the school's writing honor society. Mind you, they didn't like the topics I wrote about, but they didn't deny I did it well.
But despite having written several stories and having complete layouts for dozens of others, I have yest to publish a novel or short story. That's not to say I haven't finished any. My first story, my "baby" as it were, was written when I was twelve. It was originally twenty-six pages long. But in my mind it wasn't good enough, it could be better. The second version was seventy-two pages long. The third version was one hundread and change long. There was always something to do better.
The story never read on paper like I saw it in my head. As a child I didn't really have many friends because I didn't understand them and they certainly didn't understand me. I lived in novels, mostly fantasy or science fantasy. My father and sister loved science fiction, the old kind with real science, but I was bad at math and science. I didn't understand those books and that was one of many sticking points between me father, who also has AS, and I.
My story worlds were one place where the world made sense. I controlled it, created it, and even destroyed it if I wanted to. I could take whatever was bothering me there and work it through in so many different ways.
I find I tend to create depressing stories, I suppose because I've been depressed for so long. Those stories I have a hard tiem completing because they make me feel more depressed. Another problem I have is that after I create a story in my head, I want to make a new one. I don't want to take the time and effort to write out something that won't be good enough anyway. I am a bit compulsive, or maybe more than a bit.
I learned very recently that I'm an Aspie. You know the collquialism "it turn my world on it's ear"? Well, having learned this, I feel my world was tipped towards the right way. And I already have an idea for a short story about what I am experiencing. Life is what gives an artist their juice. I hope that with this discovery I can work towards finishing something.
As it says in my bio, I am an aspiring writer. Or at least I used to be. I was a very good story writer and poet from very early on. I published my first poems in sixth grade. I was the first freshman in my highschool to get into the Quill and Scroll, the school's writing honor society. Mind you, they didn't like the topics I wrote about, but they didn't deny I did it well.
But despite having written several stories and having complete layouts for dozens of others, I have yest to publish a novel or short story. That's not to say I haven't finished any. My first story, my "baby" as it were, was written when I was twelve. It was originally twenty-six pages long. But in my mind it wasn't good enough, it could be better. The second version was seventy-two pages long. The third version was one hundread and change long. There was always something to do better.
The story never read on paper like I saw it in my head. As a child I didn't really have many friends because I didn't understand them and they certainly didn't understand me. I lived in novels, mostly fantasy or science fantasy. My father and sister loved science fiction, the old kind with real science, but I was bad at math and science. I didn't understand those books and that was one of many sticking points between me father, who also has AS, and I.
My story worlds were one place where the world made sense. I controlled it, created it, and even destroyed it if I wanted to. I could take whatever was bothering me there and work it through in so many different ways.
I find I tend to create depressing stories, I suppose because I've been depressed for so long. Those stories I have a hard tiem completing because they make me feel more depressed. Another problem I have is that after I create a story in my head, I want to make a new one. I don't want to take the time and effort to write out something that won't be good enough anyway. I am a bit compulsive, or maybe more than a bit.
I learned very recently that I'm an Aspie. You know the collquialism "it turn my world on it's ear"? Well, having learned this, I feel my world was tipped towards the right way. And I already have an idea for a short story about what I am experiencing. Life is what gives an artist their juice. I hope that with this discovery I can work towards finishing something.
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