Ok, so…
Were my special interests…Ancient Egypt, animals, Janet Jackson, Micheal to slightly lesser extent…more socially acceptable because I have boobs, or would they be socially acceptable to the penile variety of ’tism as well? I don’t know, I’ve never been accepted as I am, without masking, by a group big enough to be called a society.
Am I oversensitive to sensory stimili, to the point of vomiting, diarrhea, and worse, meltdowns. There is nothing more terrifying than feeling myself lose it while my angry caretaker chased me down in anger and beat my ass until I hyperventilated and “got control of myself.”. This is why I say spanking is abusive.
I remember exactly what it felt like in flashback, like it was yesterday. What’s your super power? 😉 Mine’s trauma! Joking. Or is this sarcasm. Might be sarcasm.
Gotta love Alexythemia. I think she’s the vampire part of me, that sucks all the fun out of my social interactions with Normies, turning it into a performance and an ordeal.
Which of my parts are fighting over whether I can stop feeling defensive now that I reject them back and no longer blame their behavior for my feelings?
My feelings are my interface with reality. I can influence them but only control them with aid, including medical aid, because this world finds retards like me intolerable.
Oh my gods, y’all. I said the R word. No, not Republican, they are not synonyms, shut up Dad. Dad thought it was funny to piss people off. Until I finally lost my shit. Then, of course, I was bad because that behavior is unacceptable, so I was spanked.
Shut away sobbing and wishing I was dead.
That’s why I grew up suicidal.
Because I deserved patience and understanding, like any other person.
But I was being raised by a capitalist culture that keeps the patriarchy in power, and schooling children is not changing the world for the better, and I think I know why.
Some of the whys.
Because since college my special interests have been anthropology (B.A. in 2003, UCF,) creative writing (MFA, 2011, UCF,) parenting, psychology, teaching, and art (creation of more than history of, but both.)
My whole life I believed I suffered what I suffered plus I had a gift for writing equalled my job was to change the world for the better with my writing.
And when my identity fell apart with the double whammy of figuring out I was ADHD while being a terrible mom to my first (we all feel terribly about how we raised or first, when we have too little help, even when our kids say we did great.)
But now I can look at my life and see the ADHD, and the ’tism, and the bipolar, and the kid I started learning all this for.
When I chose to keep him, back when I had a choice…😡🙄😤🥱🤔
I promised him before he was born that I would learn to love myself, because I believed I had to love myself to raise a kid who could love themselves.
I promised him before he was born that I would learn to be happy so I could raise him happy, and there’s my story.
Our story.
I get overstimulated and start screaming, and since he was a toddler, I would hit himself instead of him. I was able to turn the trauma of his few spankings into a game called butt bongo, which I play with his little brother, who thankfully never had that trauma.
My boys love each other. They are eight years apart. We unschool. We practice child led learning. We explore our world in ways that don’t overwhelm us and only Daddy is slave to the working hours since I lost my ever loving mind and took three years to figure out why everyone kept asking me about manic symptoms, and see the mania in my own behavior.
So this year I am finally on the right medication. Not until I had a meltdown that drove my siblings away could I accept that my anger was more than just grief.
I can see their perspectives, but can’t make them see mine. They aren’t interested in empathy for my experience.
I am too old to get away with acting like I’m autistic and ADHD with PTSD from a lifetime of abuse, medical neglect, and how the hell could I know myself before I understood how my brain works?
People watch shows as adults that teach false science, which is stupid from the perspective of people like me, who want all our voting population to get educated, not just the unemancipated minors.
Do you know how many states it’s legal to marry a 12 year old with parental consent, today, in America?
People like me are often misdiagnosed or under diagnosed, and because we have to fit into society to work for wages that keep the vast majority of the Land of the Free in poverty for life. You don’t fall out of poverty.
You have to claw your way, unless you have help. And where is the help?
When Aiden and I were homeless, we found help from another neurodivergent single mother with the same terrible taste in men. The woman engaged to my son’s father.
Profitable writing exercise. ✅
Adventures of an Earthborn Alien 