so this is my first spot to 'blog'. I looked at the 'tags' and decided on none. but I would like to, say, wirite a little something on these topics/tags. anyway, I also don't like capital letters, but should try, I think, to use them. They make it more interesting to type. Thank you I tell myself. I also like to use commas, since for the longest time, I have created sentences which are long.
I was diagnosed with Autism on Dec. 12, 2012. It's true, I believe, that I could have been diagnosed earlier in life, but for the fact that I was diagnosed schizophrenic when I was in my teens, at some point. I remember not being able to handle being on vacation, and I sat on the top of the car, and cried and screamed, even, I think, until my parents left the campground. I was only about 12, or 9. Nine years of age seems to be a year I can remember a lot from, then my pre-teen, teen years.
I rememeber saying to myself, when I was 6, "How come those girls are talking to each other?" I saw no point. I wondr about the precociousness of that thinking. I shall look up precocious. Then I shall return here. hold on. so, I did look it up. It doesn't seem to fit. Now I know somewhat of why people talk to each other-- though I am abused by my spouse, left alone and told to go to my room, where I find being alone both hard, and upsetting. I don't want to be by myself all the itme. I have sons and daughters and think I deserve some company sometimes. Since my husband pulled them all to himself, being a sick man, can't stand to be alone, and which makes him to be TOO much for me, and since he demands so much attention from me that he can't stand me having an opinion of my own, different from his, (making me, in his mind, "argumentative") and since I can't stand being in his brain at ALL anymore, I have ended up deciding to GO to my ROOM when they are around, or he is acting like a bully to me. When he acts badly towards my son, *, I stay around and stick up for my son, because I think sometimes that I am keeping him safe from his father..... They have thrown picnic tables over in a 'fight' of some kind last summer.. I have to get the dog and get him out of there, and then go 'witness' things, hoping to be peacemaker for them...
I've just come back after several hours. I want to explain something. My son took one of my hamburgers. You see, I have been eating less than okay, as far as I think about eating cereal too often, and not enough protein, so I cooked my package of hamburger tonight, and told him that he can't have any, there is none for him, and he took one anyway. And, you see, they make fun of me, and mock or deny my existance, as a separate human being with needs! Okay, my interpretation of what is happening to me,... I admit to not understanding, or not being able to do what is necessary for my (own) well-being and my voice to be heard. I say something, and it is as if I didn't say a thing. As if I am not understood, as if I don't speak the same language, I don't speak English, and they don't have to care, listen, heed. I am a moot person, personality. As if I don't have a body, I am a voice--ignored, not real. Well, that might be how I feel, anyways. SO, though, tonight I yelled at him, after he had taken the burger, and he denied it, said the dog took it, and continued to mock me, so I slammed the door, and went into the kitchen and stomped my feet- twice. I had said to myself, they don't believe me, HE doesn't believe me, that I'm angry about this, that I was serious when I said don't touch the burgers, they are mine. So, I also said, I'm done, I'm not mad anymore. It's over. He had come upstairs and said, Here, here's a five for your burger, or THE burger. The point is, I didn't want his money, not even after he took it.... What I had desired is for him, and ALL of them, to acknowledge what I said, and to leave the burgers for me. I have gotten a little bit of a headache on the left side of my head, now, and I attribute it to the stomping of my feet. After all I am going on 62. Lol Oh, well, whatever works. You see, too, I had felt to let him know I was really mad, I stomped my feet, so I wouldn't be denied that I really meant it. You see, they always take my food and I just couldn't get that mad about it, but lately, and even since I thought today, that they just don't like me, could do fine, or better, without me, that maybe I'd have to die for them to regret anything they'd done to me in life.... and the fact that I think I've lost strength, due to the fact that I've not eaten that well, for maybe years, and ignored, and denied myself any righteousness and upholding of my command, my authority over my own food... I have allergies, and specific food preferences which are very hard and impossible for me to deviate from, and when they take the very food I am dependent on for life, well, I ought to get mad. I am a little ashamed for stomping my feet, but he deserved to feel aahamed, too, for taking it... I have always worried, and not wanted them to feel shame, my sons, especially "*, but I must let them learn that it's not right to take advantage of me, I am their mother.... which leaves me feeling weird because I stomped my feet... out of control
So now what do I do? I'll leave it with that question. What do I do now? I guess I'll look at him and say, Why did I have to do that to get your attention? Please!