Still trying to get the gluten free scones recipe to turn out correctly. I use a different blend of flour each time.....in wildly different proportions....I need to switch back to the flours that used to work for me in the ratios I used to use.....assuming I can remember! :-P

Love is not the best word for what I have been experiencing. Although there is a strong element of love, in our culture, love encompasses everything from being horny to having a crush on someone to being involved and fond of one another to the sort of ferocity of commitment that would induce someone to jump in front of a train to push their beloved out of its path. This one word is used in such a common way that it loses all meaning. It is movable like water, shifting and changing and alterable, flowing one way one moment and a different way the next.

Obsession doesn't cut it either, because obsessions are pathological and typically uncontrollable and lead to dangerous behavior.

Imprinting. That is the best explanation I can come up with. I don't mean imprinting as depicted in the cheesy Twilight books.... More like....throughout our life and particularly in childhood, people make impressions on us. We develop bonds with people. Traits associated with those people have lasting positive connotations for us. And then at some point, you meet someone who has this magical combination of those traits, whose mannerisms and quirks and strengths and flaws feel just right. There is enough of what is familiar to feel comfortable, enough of what resonates with ones own values, interests, etc to make that person seem absolutely irreplaceable and enough difference to provide for mystery, curiosity and interest.

And up until this point, I think most people would be able to relate to this and say, "yeah yeah, that's also called falling in love". But with me, for some odd reason, maybe because I've lost most of the people who were the original bearers of the traits and qualities I value...this doesn't happen very often for me, it scares me to death when it does happen, it doesn't require physical contact and it's fairly irreversible and deeply embedded.
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And now, friends, I have to go harvest various things and plant garlic. Maybe with luck, I will get to split some wood today as well.

Some of this weeks work. The ziploc bag is full of dried prune-plums, and there are more still drying in the dehydrator. I also forgot the applesauce and plum puree.

Sometimes I feel like a failure, like a waste of space, like I am sucking energy out of the world and don't give anything back. And I know that some of this is echoing the words of a particularly toxic person, but in any case, it still echoes through me, over and over and over again. I cannot afford to spend another second of my life around people who tell me things like that....because hurtful things stick to me like glue...I don't know yet how to get rid of them, how to shake them off.

I like to reclaim things that are being wasted or thrown away or unappreciated. Like this fruit. Meh...this conversation is depressing me. :-/

Another view of the same fish. The eyes look funny because they're been glazed.

Depressed, so i went to CDA and spent the day glazing this fish. Here it is with only the pupils painted in with iron oxide. I have another pic where the iron oxide application process is finished, will post that too.

The fish are meant to challenge popular conceptions of beauty. This one is titled: "I love you bumps and all"

I hate this. I hate the shame. I hate having to act like I'm mad at you.

Half the problem is that I look at things in such black and white terms....my rational mind knows that you don't hate me, but the emotional part of me is pretty straightforward and simple and cannot conceive of someone never wanting to talk to me again unless they hated me with a fury beyond words. And I love you with all the simplicity and lack of reserve of a child.

Why do I act so hostile? I don't feel hostile, I just hurt. I think this is a defense mechanism......i know that no matter what I do, you are never, ever, going to talk to me again. I give up. There's nothing I can do. This hurts me more than anything else in my life ever has. Pain is not rational. I would give or do anything at all to change the way things are, but it's beyond my hands, and I've already broken myself in half trying to find the answers.

I don't want to feel afraid when I see you. I don't want that adrenaline rush. If nothing else, If nothing else, just to be able to be in the same general area without that sense of (this is a person who cannot stand the sight, sound, of me. This is the only person in the world who has the power to crush me into even smaller pieces, and I have no defense at all against him, because.....because....I am weak.....)

There is no strength here....not like you said.

You must have known...you must have known....that you were going to do this.

I am not angry at you. I am not hostile. Just...wounded to the point of insensibility and not wanting to hurt any worse.

There is no point. There is no goal. Life is an obstacle course without a finish line, without any reason or sense or reward. There are no rules, at least not any that are consistently followed by the people who want to inflict them...

And people have been lying to me and I'm tired of trying to figure it out. At least you feel bad about it. But they don't...oh no, they don't.

I am having quite the struggle with my inner bitch lately. For years, my friends urged me to grow a spine and a set of teeth...now it is so hard not to use those teeth at any provocation. I fear holding back, don't want to end up subjugated and held hostage by other people's feelings, manipulations and plans for me.....again.

Also, how to balance a legacy of mistreatment and abuse, to be able to say that no, actually, that wasn't OK.....and still be Quakerly? My solution is always one of disengagement: "Yeah, that sucked, I don't ever want that again, sure I'll forgive, just leave me alone, period. Leave me the fuck alone." I have a feeling that this isn't going to cut it.

It's ironic and funny in the darkest possible way, that this is precisely what you're doing to me. Of all the people in the world, I probably deserve it, having dished it out to some many others......but honestly, it was and many times is, the only way I know how to cope. Confrontation, having to admit having grudges against people, confessing that yeah, I'm angry, scares the bejeezus out of me. I only force myself into it when the person means enough to me that going through the shaky nerves and vulnerability that comes along with discussing whatever mess occurred is worth it.

So.......that's it, isn't it? I'm not. Worth it. It's easier to shove me into the land of non-existence and additionally, that saves an awful lot of face.

And if only I could get to the same place in regard to you, this would be perfect. Sort of.

The other thing that is bothering me is that it seems to have been OK that I have been abused by names which shall not here be named. It isn't that I can't forgive, but sadly, forgiveness for this kind of thing is not an instantaneous matter. I am still triggered. I have developed an aversion, a fear, to all but the mildest and gentlest men....and also, gay men don't frighten me. My fuse has grown shorter, my triggers more numerous and less reversible than they were in times past.

I might not be irrevocably changed by these things, but it definitely feels that way to me. The impact has been negative and it has been substantial. I mask this fear with contempt for macho men.....and my contempt is real....but it goes deeper than that.

When being around that person triggers you, when you see in your mind their face contorted.....the angry words still screaming in your head.....I don't know how to reconcile all of this with the kind of person I strive to be, particularly in the face of complete denial. I feel unreasonable for not being able to wish this problem away and then....then....... I guess I think that there is a difference between being able to forgive and being able to pretend things never happened and that everything is hunky dory now.

Yes, I am all messed up. I realize that. However, please note, dear readers: it is not a coincidence that I'm all messed up. I didn't get here all by myself. And having to pretend that I did....is hurtful. Having to pretend that Other Person is a victim of my cold-heartedness....feels like a slap in my face.

I am sitting here trembling, having written these things....I don't know what the answers are, or if there are any. I only know that I haven't come across them yet.

A question for myself:

As a person with Asperger's and various other conditions, as a person who is technically homeless, as a single mother, and as a "survivor" (the feel-good word for "subject") of various sorts of childhood and adult abuse, where does one draw the line between asking for what they need and "milking it", an accusation that is most frequently leveled against me by people who seem to be doing pretty well in life?

I don't really care what people think, other than the handful of those who are near and dear to me. As far as I'm concerned, most people are a total waste of the brain cells and lives they received (tsk,tsk, that isn't very charitable) and they hardly ever ask me for my opinion on their life choices, so thank you very much, but no, I don't need theirs about mine. What does matter to me is being able to look at myself in the mirror every morning without feeling ashamed of something I have done.

In my opinion, I play down a lot of the horrors in my past (and current life), but what if that isn't the case? I get a lot of grief from people (family in particular) who tell me that I should move on with life and quit thinking about the past. But when my present is constantly triggering that past, it makes more sense to me to try to work through those things and get them settled (as best they can be).

Part of it may also be that my present life isn't stable enough to allow me to just get it all out of my system and move on productively. See, in addition to the old stuff, there's also the new stuff which piles up at a fairly constant rate and which triggers similar elements in the old. I end up playing damage control, dealing with whatever is freaking me out the worst. This occurs every couple of days.

At any rate, people accuse me of invoking my disability inappropriately. I am regularly told that I am "normal", which frankly, is insulting. Yeah, that's right. Telling me that I am normal is not only not helpful, it's not a compliment. It implies also that if I'm odd or strange or impaired, I must be going to extreme lengths to do so. Mostly though, I don't find normalcy to be all that appealing. It isn't something I ever aspire to be- being a more functional, less freaked out version of myself is the goal, not being a sheeple clone. :-/

Is it unfair to society for me to be at relative peace with the labels that describe me? And if so, why? Is it unfair for me to demand that they accept me as I am, within reason?

Sometimes I feel as though my heart is a ruptured uterus, bleeding after a stillbirth. And the doctors won't answer any questions. They won't tell me why, why did it die? Was it something I did? When did it die, did it live at all? Why? They close their faces to me. All they say is that they will not answer questions, that I have to stop asking why and just get over it. Was it their fault? This is the question I am not allowed to ask. I must forget. But I cannot forget and I am not a person who can ever stop asking questions. Please, can I just see it, so that I can know that it's dead? No. A thousand times, no.

A nurse whispers to me a conspiracy theory. I consider, then sweep it aside in my mind. I cannot believe in such heartlessness. But confronted with the cold wall of silence, of not asking, of not knowing anything.....her words haunt me sometimes.

I cannot know, and I am broken inside. I cannot carry love within me like that again.

Picked European prune plums, grapes, and a few apples last weekend, drying the prunes right now (some of them). Will dry more and make the rest into plum jam. Picked apples from wild and abandoned trees today with two of my sons. I love my kids.....we had so much fun together. Applesauce tomorrow? And---> elderberry picking! (syrup!)

Here is a better shot of it! Heh....that is such a cute, sad face.

These are pictures of goldfish that I just got. I'm sorry the images aren't bigger, will enlarge and crop them next time. The biggest one amuses me, because he has such a forlorn looking little face, bluish eyes, and even though the others are much smaller, this is the shy one! Whenever he sees me, (actually, it could be a she?) he hurries and hides, and peeks out cautiously. lol.....

Being poor isn't a crime, and people should not be deprived of basic human rights because they are poor. We shouldn't be treated like criminals.

Also--> Only senior housing is exempted from the Fair Housing Amendments Act of 1988, which prohibits discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, national origin, handicap and familial status (in general, the presence of children under the age of 18 in the household).HUD link Where I live is not Senior Housing, therefore, it is illegal to discriminate against kids being there.

Another much more specific link.

Earth to all social workers and mental health professionals: People who are disabled, poor, disadvantaged, etc, may not be in the best position in life, but they still don't enjoy being treated like children. Being in a bad position or having made bad choices doesn't necessarily mean that a person is unintelligent or oblivious to reality. And as with the legacy of slavery in this country, being disadvantaged often entails smiling and scraping and pretense of gratitude.

I am not good at that. I was not born to this life and I have this silly idea that all humans are equal. I expect to retain my basic human dignity, even if I've been working in the dirt all day or thumbing my way down the road. I don't care who you are, talking down to me may be tolerated, but it is unlikely to be overlooked. Abuse of power is duly noted, cataloged away, but not all that surprising once you get over the initial shock. Besides, abuse of power has been encountered before, if not by parents, then by abusive spouses or partners. The strategies used there carry over here, too, as do all the same old resentments.

The one thing I have noticed is that people who have been born to this life are totally disillusioned with the concept of justice. They have given up. They don't fight. No, they expect dishonesty and injustice. What is intolerable for me is often business as usual for them. They have no hope in what other people take for granted, however irked they are by its counterpart.

Sometimes one is inclined to agree with them.

My bleeping dog went out and rolled in roadkill and stinks like decomp....and then tried to climb into my bed. Um, no!

I don't mean to sound like a bitch here, but I am so tired of having dogs in the house 24/7. I love my dogs, but canines were never intended to live in a house full time. They are dogs, not children.

Speaking of which....it irritates me when people do that "my dogs are my children" thing. I guess that I feel like it shows a lack of appreciation and value for children. It isn't like there is any shortage of still-fairly-young-although-not-infant aged kids who need homes or to simply to be befriended or mentored. There are scores of children like that and they stay like that until they are too old to be in the system any longer. Why squander love for a child on a dog as a substitute?!

OK, whatever...it is not my business.....but it still irks me!