Don't think I want to identify as a feminist any longer. Things like this... The constant blaming of men for every damned little thing, including things women have embraced and chosen to do, such as perpetuating this idiotic female ideal body type of being stick thin. Saying that a single wolfwhistle or an appreciative male glance is "rape" or "sexual assault". Give me a fucking break. I've been raped. I've been sexually assaulted. I've also been whistled at and looked at. These things are not anywhere close to being in the same category. Also, fact of the matter is, women objectify men a lot, too. No? Consider: What's the first thing your family asks when you tell them you have a new boyfriend? They want to know what he does for a living. Our society treats men not as *people* but as money makers. "Breadwinner" is supposed to be a compliment, and we just expect them to suck it up and deal with it, AND to put up with being demonized for what bad men have done to women.

I'm tired of discriminating against one gender under the excuse of defending the other. What about supporting people?

When was the last time you heard someone chortle with glee over a male criminal going to prison and getting ass raped? Or, if not glee, prison rape is something which gets shrugged off. "If they didn't want to get raped, they shouldn't have gotten themselves in prison". Yes, people say horrific, awful things about women who get raped, but at least their rape is acknowledged some of the time. When it happens to a guy....chances are, nobody will ever know, not even his doctor. He won't get support, there won't be justice, and there won't be healing.

Also, I'm sick and tired of dividing the world into two camps, MEN and WOMEN, as though we were two warring armies. There are shitty men, shitty women, shitty intersexed people, shitty trans people probably, although I haven't met any yet. There are also good,fairminded people, and that has nothing at all to do with genitalia. I don't feel that I can hold values of equality while demonizing half our population and blaming all kinds of random shit on them. It's not that I don't think women shouldn't get equal treatment, fair wages, etc....but it is becoming increasingly clear to me that this business of painting all men with broad brushstrokes is the wrong way to do that.

A lot of the stuff my therapist tells me to do feels unnatural/dishonest/etc. For example, she has told me not to talk about certain things with my partner, even if those things are really bothering me. Or, some of the stuff she tells me to do feels like head games/manipulation. I am not very good at doing what she says to do. In fact, I usually don't, because it feels contrived. I'm not good at pasting a smile that I don't feel, onto my face. She says that men need to feel like they're in control. That masculine energy is oriented towards problem solving/fixing stuff. That I need to be more feely and to talk about how things make me feel. I cannot see that expressing my feelings that way is a good thing. It seems to me that he is somewhat overwhelmed with/disgusted by the degree of feeliness that I already express, which is generally less than that of most women, IMHO.

And I'm not sure what the answers are:

• Am I fundamentally incapable of having a stable relationship?
• Is this therapist a good fit for me?
• Is it *this* relationship? It's really hard for me to open up and trust someone, and despite our differences, we're still fairly compatible and, except for a couple of really unpleasant areas, fairly happy together. I am disinclined to simply discard someone that I love, in the spurious hope of finding something that magically works with minimal effort.
• Am I not expressing/articulating what I want, in a way that can be heard, rather than dismissed?
• Or am I too pushy and need to STFU and be glad for what I have, even though it feels that that has just been drastically, abruptly pruned?
• Am I too trusting?
• Not trusting enough?

I am flashed back to my teen years, the dinner table. It is not my day to sit next to Mom. We have to take turns, because everyone wants to sit next to Mom, and nobody wants to sit next to my stepfather, with his arsenal of toothpicks, etc. She has just served us all dessert along with our meal. My stepfather's fork, as much a weapon as an eating implement, takes a bite of my dessert. You cannot save desssert, or anything good, for last in our family. I protest. He chuckles and takes another bite. I start in on my dessert, because if I sit there whining about it, the entire thing will vanish in the meantime. I have to eat it as fast as I can and get what's good before it goes away, but the very act of having to fight for it steals away the enjoyment of it. And in case you're wondering, no, I couldn't steal a bite of the cake from HIS plate. He'd stab me with the fork if I tried.

There are people who enjoy struggling for, fighting for what they want, and who feel gratified when they get it. I'm not such a person. I don't want to have to fight for things. At the moment when I have to assert myself, the appeal of getting whatever it was that I wanted, is reduced, especially if that was something fairly basic that other people just get and take for granted.

I don't know what the answers are. I miss my old therapist. He would tell me when I was out of line and point out things that weren't as bad as I thought, and he never told me to act coy and manipulative.

So tired of pain. Why do things have to hurt so much. Why am I always hoping things will be good, and then when it turns out that this is not the case, of course, what the hell was I thinking, it's always such a blow, when any fool could have seen it....but not me. Nope, not me. I just keep going through life hoping that nice things will happen and then feeling crushed when they don't. I do not learn.

There's a new theory going around about autism: Intense World Syndrome. I could post a link, but it's all over google, not hard to find. In a nutshell, the idea is that our nervous system is wired such that everything is SO INTENSE and SO OVERWHELMING, and we can't really filter it, so that we do typical autistic stuff like tuning it out, seeking mental comfort in routines and rhythmns and stims, zoning out, and trying as hard as we can to numb ourselves to the many, many averisve experiences in the world.

• Eye contact? Isn't just eyes. Feels like you're staring and prying into my soul. Get OUT already!!
• Several people talking, plus scads of atmospheric noise (lights buzzing, clock ticking, someone on the other side of the building sneezing, air blowing, doors opening and shutting)? I'm really sorry, but I hard maybe a tenth of what you just said to me, if that. There's too much noise.
• Scratchy clothes? I can't NOT think about it. The scratchiness is there in 3-D living technicolor, driving me nuts, and the more I scratch, the worse it gets.
• Room deodorizers? They make me SICK. I still smell the fecal odors, now it just smells like chemicals and flowery feces, and that's disgusting, lots worse than plain old shit.
• And...the list could go on for a long, long time.....

And so yeah, I more or less agree with the people who came up with this theory. I haven't put a lot of time into studying their proposed therapies based on the theory, although I understand that the therapy is controversial because "untested" and "could do more harm than good". Well, talk about alarmist. Nobody seemed to worry about that when they were trying to train us like Pavlov's dog, with piddly little rewards and nasty aversives. There isn't nearly enough concern over the chelation "therapy", which is KILLING children, based on the erroneous idea that the kids are suffering from heavy metal toxicity.

Anyway. I digress. For my part, I can handle a lot of the sensory stuff, although it wears me down slowly throughout the course of a day. One area that has been and continues to be a source of real difficulty for me is the intensity of emotional feelings. Thankfully, I don't get angry very often. My partner has NEVER seen me truly angry and honestly, I hope he never does....but it's a rare occurence and I've been able to control it reasonably well when it does happen. "Angry" doesn't even begin to describe it. "White Rage" or, if controlled, "Cold, Shaking Rage" would be better descriptors. So luckily, real anger is a rare event for me, maybe once every year or three, and usually for a good reason. Emotional pain, on the other hand.....is the worst. Things that would hurt other people, or that they might just shrug off, leave me gutted, despondant, with a knotted stomach, aching chest, muscles clenched so tightly that I'm in physical pain....the only thing I can compare it to is having am abcessed tooth in your soul. And sometimes it goes away, sometimes I can reason my way through it or it wears off, but other times, I find myself haunted and virtually crippled with an agony that does not fade soon enough. Sometimes things hurt me for years. I don't know where I was going with this. I got to thinking about stuff and now feel a little triggered. Going to bed. :-/

Sometimes I can hardly bear to look at you, to smell you, to be near you.
Sometimes I am torn between longing to be near, and wanting to run away while I still can, before it's too late, before I get broken.
I never claim to be a whole, balanced person, for I am not. I am a teetering mess of broken pieces, held together with masking tape and tears and determination and hope.
Sometimes I look at you and your eyes are so blue, and just, YOU....and something aches and pangs inside of me and it hurts.
I know that I am all fucked up, and there may not be any fixing of me. We try. They try. Who knows if any progress is actually made. For me, love and pain are almost the same thing, and I love you, reluctantly, fearfully, because I am always waiting for the pain. I wish that I could love people freely, easily, with joy and ease, the way other people do....but for me it is always a struggle.

You say that I think everything is about me, but that isn't true. I think that everything is about pain, which, of course, will end up in my lap, in my head, in my amygdala, driving me mad while my frontal lobes stand by in impotent horror. The smallest things, that happen, that don't happen. My brain screams that they're portents of immediate danger, that there's not time to think just RUN, REACT!!!! And, it does, often for no damned reason at all.

And it takes HOURS to stop running. Hours. Even then, I am like a jittery, spooked horse. And then, abruptly, just really tired.

Welcome to the world of PTSD.
.
.
. Sometimes I think that there isn't any hope. That I've been believing in a hoax, a fairy tale, a thing that isn't real. I want to believe that it's safe, but on the other hand, what if it's not?

Awareness anew today of:

• How hypersensitive (hypervigilant might be a better word) I am to change. Because in my aspie, PTSD affected mind, no change is coincidental; it must, if thought about long enough, looked at hard enough, fit into some pattern, has some sort of meaning.
• My attention span is shot. With it, my frustration threshhold also seems to have gone down the tubes. Is capacity to endure frustration connected somehow to attention span? Both are connected to energy.
• I am NOT photogenic. However, neither are most of the people and animals I love. I look at pics of them and usually think that the photo does not do them justice. So disappointing! So, why is it so hard to accept that this applies to me, too?
• My body is ALL out of shape. Not fat, just...flabby. Muscle tone is being lost. I am tired a lot of the time and sit around a lot, which makes me...more tired.
• Animals: really important to me. Baby chicks, little goat kids, cats, my dog....I just love animals....and would never be able to make sense of h uman behavior without first understanding animals.
• Livestock vs pets: My daughter asked me today why I like chickens so much, said I seem to really be into chickens lately, and farm animals more than cats and dogs. What I told her: No disrespect intended towards pet animals, but when you realize that an animal can be just as much fun, just as engaging, with interactions just as rewarding as a cat or a dog, but it gives you a wonderfully delicious food product ALSO...well, it's sort of like winning the lottery. It seems too good to be true. Also, you never have to find a new home for such an animal. If it becomes a problem, aggressive or whatever, you simply eat it or find someone else who wants to eat it. Most of these animals don't bark at night, chase bicycles, bite people.... And as a final bonus, their poop, instead of being an unpleasant waste product to be dealt with unhappily and thrown away (with much disgust along the way) is actually something you can be happy to have, because it's so good for the garden! I love my cats, but honestly, sometimes I feel like it's pretty much give, give, give to the cats and the cats give back purrs and affection (which certainly have their value, make no mistake about that). With chickens, you get warm, smooth oval eggs which taste so much better than store product egg facsimiles that they are in a class of their own, AND they eat your food scraps and food waste and are *thrilled* to have it, clucking with such delight that you feel no guilt at all about having not used that stale rice or bread or whatever. Goats give all the affection and engaging interactions that pet animals do, only you get milk that can save a baby's life or be made into lovely cheese....and they frolic and act ridiculous, making you smile even when you're trying to have a lousy day. :-)
• And...food. When I am so tired and pulled in different directions, with a schedule that's a mess, it can be hard to find time to eat at all, let alone eat something healthful. I am discovering that eggs are pretty damned close to convenience food. You can fry one in a couple of minutes. Can boil them for easy transport. Make an egg sandwich. OR, you can take your time and make scrambled eggs with tasty additions, or an omelette or a quiche or a souffle (haven't tried the last yet).

There were probably others, but obviously if they'd captivated me for more than 10 seconds, I'd still remember them now...because I'm funny that way. So, the next one:

We rode the bus together. I was in eighth grade, she was probably in high school. She was so cool! So preppy. Short, smooth dark hair, brown eyes, and ever so silent. I rode the bus with her for an entire school year and never heard her speak once. She sat and read a book, usually. Most of the time, I sat across the aisle from her, because she was the sort of girl who seemed to need her space. She emanated some kind of an invisible boundary. Rarely, the bus was too full and I would sit next to her, acting as if this were an act of reluctance, but secretly thrilled, attuned to every motion, lack of motion, or nuance she might betray. She never wore bright or colorful clothing. Sometimes, royal blue...but never the hot, fluorescent colors that were screaming from everywhere else, in the form of T shirts, hats, shoelaces, even.... Her clothes tended to be dark, and she sometimes wore a businessman's type of cap, navy blue. The air of quiet, slightly melancholy mystery, combined with a degree of androgyny, made her a sort of aspirational role model for me. In all that time, I said not a single word to her.

This is one of the more worthwhile things I've ever seen/read about autism/Asperger's/ADD/ADHD. Highly recommend.

Feeling exhausted and disheartened. Who am I fooling? Some people, maybe, but not myself. It's still there, ugh. :-(

She had dark hair that waved gently to her shoulders. Dark, smiling eyes. What I loved most about her were her dark, strong eyebrows. They were eyebrows with character, attitude, strength...and they were so sexy on her. She had a deep voice. She was kind. I watched her constantly, drawn to her, unable to look away. When she wasn't around, there was an empty space and I watched until she was there again, and then things were right once more. She was beautiful. I was terrified of speaking to her, but one night, as we sat around a campfire singing, I somehow managed to sit next to her. Maybe the darkness gave me courage. She strummed on her guitar as her wonderful voice carried the tune, a song that I've remembered long after the others have slipped into oblivion. She turned and smiled at me as she sang; I felt so shy, but so, so happy. Just being near her was heaven.

I was 8, maybe 9 years old.

So...I was just told this morning, that the Women's Conference is this year. The women's conference is every other year. When I think about it, this is correct....but...what? Where did that extra year go? What did I do in that year? It's such a disorienting feeling.

Some of this is no doubt due to the concussion, but I was also having some memory issues prior to that.

And...this little bit of reading...this little bit of writing...I'm tired.

I really hate the double standard that seems to be a fundamental component of the male/female relationship dynamic. And sure, the double standard cuts both ways, I get that. But it seems to me that as people, we should all strive to think outside the box, to think critically about what we say and do and whether things are equitable.

I want to feel valued. I want to feel that the level of importance and meaning I assign to my loved ones is reciprocal.

But I don't. I feel peripheral, like interacting with me at all is a chore. And I am self centered enough to think that it shouldn't be that way...that I'm worth something.

I am getting almost nothing done. I could try to blame it on ADD or executive function deficits due to the Asperger's syndrome, but probably it is due more to the concussion....although in truth, flakiness has been a perennial problem for me, just not to this extreme degree.

I was supposed to go to my meeting today and ask them for help getting me to Midwinter Gathering. I did not do this, even though I had fully intended to, for the past month or two, and today in particular. Why not? I haven't gone to meeting since the concussion...or, if I have, I don't remember it. Every time they see me, some new calamity has occurred- a housefire, homelessness, a breakdown, and now a concussion that left me stumbling and staggering like a drunk. Also I was mentally exhausted and in addition, tired of relaying the story of how I got hurt, tired of the pity. At any rate, showing up now to ask for financial help going to anything...seems pretty tacky. Still, I had committed myself to this embarrassing request, having affirmed to a person in charge that I would do so. But I didn't. Why? Well, because. I woke up throughout the night and managed to get back to sleep again, had nightmares that my favorite kitten died, and when I awoke in the morning, my shoulder and neck muscles were tight to the point of nausea. My partner kindly massaged them for me, and when I finally succumbed to his siren call of coffee and got out of bed, I was an hour too late for meeting. And then, as the caffeine pulsed life giving energy into my mind, I realized that the person I needed to ask is a snowbird and wouldn't be at our meeting anyway....but...that's a bad excuse.

And it's like that with nearly everything I do. Every little thing is such a huge effort! Even writing this. I feel so lazy....

This has been a difficult week. Nothing catastrophic has happened; I am just feeling worn down, disheartened, running out of hope, and like giving up.

I didn't hit my head very hard. So I don't understand why I'm as impaired as I am, 4 months after the accident. Yes, it was my fifth concussion....but...something seems not right here.

And my partner....who tries as hard as he can to be patient with me...he doesn't need this. I guess I didn't need it when he got hurt either, but that was beside the point. And really, who needs any of the unpleasant shit life throws at us? We all get stuff we don't need, want or deserve, and the people we love have to deal with it too. Still. Have to find a way to minimize the stress....

I don't think he realizes that when I say I miss him, what it means is: that I am missing him to the point of physical pain. That I can hardly eat, because the anxiety is consuming me and gnawing a hole through my core. That the psychic ache is to the point of being unbearable. That a gray curtain has fallen over my mind half the time, and the rest of the time, my mind is scrambling and stumbling in frenetic circles of worry. That I am utterly exhausted and cannot sleep.

And I don't know how to say it, because really, nobody wants to hear these things.

So depressed. Not hungry. Stomach hurts. Feel nauseous. Ugh.

Hope is like
Pale moth wings laying flightless
Dusty, dried petals
On a cracked and peeling windowsill
Which frames a clouded and solitary scene of grey.

I don't want to let anyone close to me anymore. I knew this would happen and I did it anyway. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Tonight- I am sleeping in a bed that is safe and warm. Not in a car, or on the ground, or in a tent, or on some unfamiliar couch or cold floor....I get to sleep in a nice, warm bed with heavy blankets.
Tonight- Nobody is going to yell at me, hit me, or make me afraid. I can sleep without feelign anxious or hypervigilant.
Tonight- I won't sing the above song to myself, wishing that there wasn't a fight.
Tonight- Nobody is hurting my kids, or screaming at them. I don't have to feel conflicted, guilty or cowardly. Tonight-There is no ominous cloud, no sense of foreboding.
Tonight- I will not be raped, coerced, or coaxed into doing anything I don't want to do. If I awaken tomorrow morning and have done nothing sexual the entire time I've been naked in bed, I won't feel guilty...not even a little.
Tonight-I go to bed with a full stomach. I am neither thirsty nor hungry, and should the need for a bathroom arise, it won't be a problem. I don't have to walk or drive to find facilities.
Tonight- Everything is OK...and like so many of us, I take it for granted. We don't live in a war torn country, fearing for our lives as we try to snatch a bit of sleep. Our children aren't starving to death. Even those of us who are poor are so much better off than those in poorer countries that our complaints are relatively minor. We are rich by comparison.
Tonight- I will try to remember to be thankful, to have true gratitude, for all of these things.