Tuesday, March 31, 2015

A Step of Red


The lights go up changing the color of the world and saying "I am aware of the 'horror'".

Pity for the parents while the people are told "you're ruining the lives of everyone around you"

I swing, trying to help myself. Trying to do what others will not, while inside I'm crumbling from the words they are saying. Trying to find myself having lost how to share, with thing after thing thrown at me.

My words. My words mean nothing. My words that I try so hard to share. They are lost in the tide of bluewashing, and so I try to regulate.

But then...Along side all of this, there is a step. Someone who listens. Someone who shows they will hear my voice.

Simply, a step of red.

Thank you for hearing me.

Monday, March 30, 2015

Joyful Movements

I want them to see someone gleefully flicking their fingers in front of their eyes as they skip back and forth across a room, awaiting instructions, and the utter bliss on this person's face. I want them to to see the joy of someone simply watching snow fall. I want them to to watch the Olympics, watch the athletes handflap in excitement with their results, and then stop and think about whether they really can say that someone shouldn't do that.

I want them to watch someone just get something for the first time; whether multi-variable calculus, or how to find the formula they need on a sheet. I want them to watch the knowing success of someone, even in something they find trivial.

I want them to let themselves be a child, and skip and jump through leaves. And then think, is it so important that we are so proper all the time?

I want them to let themselves see the smiles on the faces. The joy, even in its own ways.

And say, sometimes, the movements. The spinning, flapping, flicking. It's not disruptive, but it is a delight, among so much else.

Why should we stop that?

Friday, March 27, 2015

Invisible Disability

I'm not who I am. But I am who I am.
I don't get to choose you see.

They tell me my feelings, my hopes, my dreams.
They tell me my struggles, my pains.

Who you see, who I see, are they the same?
Do they tell you and you see someone new?

When I try and I fall, but I do it myself
Then I'm told, oh no, that can't really be you.

Do you see the falling? Do you help me up.
Or do you see someone lying for help?

Do you see someone trying and struggling and making it?
Or do you see someone easily gliding through life?

When I don't see the way, am I alone in the dark?
Or is there someone to guide me along?

When I get lost at a corner that I should see,
Will you taunt me, or show me the way?

If I show you my struggles, will you see them?
Or will you look away, denying.

Am I my voice, or what I say?
Can I be myself, or am I what they say?

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Disappearing processing

Usually I just write posts when I have something to write about. I sit down here in order to write out a post, and while what comes out might not have been what I planned, its organized. Alternatively, I write a post in my head as something I want to say, because of what has been going on around me, and share it when I get to a computer.

This is completely different, and feels more personal in some ways. It's worth sharing, so I'm sharing it, but its not what I normally write. This is when I was asked to do something to help out and I couldn't, and went to say something online, what came out. This is what I was saying, while I was losing my ability to process senses. This is a description of senses being more jumbled up in real time.

I plan on these happening. I organize my day and my week so that my body losing the ability to understand the world has minimal effect on others. I have taught myself things from mentally being able to swap visual processing off and just use processing the other senses to understand what's going on (and without vision it is easier to process other senses, especially hearing), to how to get backup information from alternative senses, to what I should carry with me to keep myself safe. I reduce sensory input to reduce frequency, and give myself what I seek more than I seek it.

But still, when it happens it can be disorienting and make me feel like I'm not able to do what I need to do. No matter the frequency, it makes me feel like I should be doing more.

So here. This is one sort of what its like to be losing processing. Typos are because I could no longer process vision even enough to have any tunnel vision; it was just gone. I'm not sure how understandable it is. I feel like its missing so much. But, even little bits help with understanding.

I can't adult.

At school all day today my vision was blurry from not processing vision and I tried to work through that.

My speech was reduced.

Being able to remember where things like the work I was giving them was barely there. If we finished early, extra stuff, I didn't have any clue what to do and couldn't make it up despite usually being great at that.

By the end of the day I was sitting there losing time in dissociation.

I had stuff I was supposed to do here. I got a load of laundry in. I stopped functioning. I've not managed to swap it over. I've not managed to get myself anything to drink. I've been home 6 hours and thirsty the whole time.

My body isn't understanding what's going on around it at all. I'm hearing sounds and they don't mean anything. I'm seeing things, and the things I'm focusing on writing, I can see a fraction of my particular post here, and everything else is gibberish, if it exists at all.

I feel cold on my back and I don't know why. I feel things on my hands that I can't understand. They might be touching things I don't know what. I think my head is spinning. I can't figure it out if it is or not. I can't understand anymore. My vision is getting more lost. I can see colors now. I am typing from muscle memory.

I'm supposed to be doing things. They need my help. If I don't then food will be delayed even more. I don't know how to adult. I don't how how to keep my body froom floating off in pieces. My arms are glued down and heavy and my legs are unattached and my back is only partially feeling things and I don't know what is happening to me.

I need input that I can understand but I can't understand enough to get it. I need things that are clear. I need sound that is defined. I need strong foods. I need heavy weights. I need to be held tight. I need to touch more things. I nee to move and everything.

And I'm hthe only one home and will be for at least another 30 minutes.

At least I'm in bed with my blanket.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Coming Out Autistic

Every time I am open about who I am, it opens up the world a little bit more.
It makes it a little bit more aware that people like me exist.
It makes it a little bit more accepting that people like me exist.
Every time I do an action that we're told we cannot do, it says, "Hey look, this works. Hey look, we can do this."
Every time I say who I am, I make it easier for you to say who you are too.

Society isn't accepting of us. Society defines us into roles, ostracizes us, stigmatizes us. Society fears us and makes us fear it.

And being openly autistic, doing what I want to in life, being impaired and not a stereotype... that helps with teaching society that I am both a verbal disabled autistic adult, and someone who is a success.

And with that, as others do too, it teaches them about autism.

Maybe that'll mean you can be who you need to be. Maybe that'll mean you fear being yourself less. Maybe it'll mean you'll let yourself know this is who you are, and instead of trying to deny it, try to find ways for you to enjoy yourself as yourself. Maybe it'll mean you'll fear others less. Maybe it'll mean you can walk around flapping and humming and wearing ear muffs, and then, go, and be one of the most productive people at your job because they actually gave you a chance to get through an interview. Or maybe it'll mean that you'll go to college when you had thought you couldn't because of the messages around you. Maybe it'll mean that slowly we can erode the idea that working full-time is required to be a worthwhile human being. Or maybe it'll just help you find a way besides a 9-5 to make your own way in this world - whether monetarily or otherwise.

Maybe I can help you be you, by being me.