Friday, February 24, 2012

Stealing Kittens and Weird Dreams??

I have no idea what this means, but the last couple of nights I've had a repeating dream. In it, I live in a trailer on an overgrown lot. Across the street from me is a weathered gray house with an enclosed porch, also on an overgrown lot. It has a stone wall out front. We seem to be at the end of a cul-de-sac. The owner of this house, a woman in her late 20's or early 30's, is slightly chunky and dressed in jeans and a plum colored long-sleeve tee shirt. She has long brown hair. I know I don't like her.

She has cats. Lots of cats. There are cats everywhere. And there are kittens that keep running out into the street. I'm desperately worried that something bad is going to happen to these kittens. We have several arguments about the kittens getting run over. She's not worried about it, but I am. (This is one whackadoo dream, hunh?) So, I sneak over to her yard during the night and steal a cute little orange tabby kitten.

I stuff it in a carry case and take it back to my house. The next day she shows up at my door with her two kids - a boy, maybe 8 years old, shaggy brown hair; and a girl, maybe 6, with pony tails and a pretty little cotton dress). They're looking for their kitten. The little girl is crying, but I know its fake. The woman accuses me of stealing the kitten and says she knows I'm hiding it in my house. I am. I have it hidden in my secret attic (Yeah, I dunno. Just weird.) I tell the kids how sorry I am their kitten is missing, tell the mother she ought to take better care of her animals and shut the door on them.

Next thing I know, the cops are showing up at the door. Again, I lie to them and tell them I don't have the kitten. They come in and search the place with guns drawn, but don't find it. And they leave after threatening me to return it if I have it. Once I'm sure they're gone, I take the kitten out of the attic and hug it while I watch the police talk to the woman and her kids from my window. And then I wake up.

What the ever living fuck does this dream mean???!! So strange....

Thursday, February 23, 2012

An Update...

As far as the kiddo goes -- he seems to have chilled out. He's working on programming a 3D game which he hopes to sell if it all works out. He's no longer talking about offing himself & he's showering most days. And getting him to leave the house is like trying to move a large boulder with a spoon. I can live with that.

He has withdrawn from college. The social aspect is too hard for him right now. I don't know if he'll go back.

In the meantime, he's keeping himself busy. He taught himself 3D graphics in four days and advanced calculus in an afternoon.

I have no idea what he's talking about half the time. Matrices and quaternions and vectors and bzzzzzzzz....hunh, what? His "aspieness" is at its most challenging but he's feeling better, so I'll take what I can get.

As for me, I'm finally able to leave him for short periods of time (an hour or so) if necessary. I think I'll go grocery shopping tomorrow. I'm getting tired of scrounging for food and eating things like yodels for breakfast. Yeah. Gross.

Now that things are settling down, I'm hoping to be able to blog good stuff soon. So stay tuned...

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Gauche Girl Goes to Dinner

Last night was dinner with the in-laws...not just dinner, mind you - it was my father-in-law's birthday and not only was immediate family there, but all of his nieces and nephews. I don't consider myself an uneducated person, nor do I think I'm some complete loser, but my husband's family never fails to make me feel like a gauche farm girl from the sticks.

Worse, they do it very carefully, so that he never sees the claws.

The problem is I am sort of a gauche farm girl from the sticks. I grew up in rural Vermont, where going out to dinner meant dressing up in your jeans that didn't have holes in the knees to eat at the local diner or HoJos. We don't stand on ceremony where I'm from. That doesn't mean I'm a redneck, though. I have a bachelor's degree in communications, specializing in journalism. I've traveled. I follow fashion trends. I'm probably more up-to-date on market trends and politics than any of them. I have a curious mind - if something catches my attention, I learn everything I can about it.


Every time there's one of these family events, I start to stress. I go shopping for the perfect outfit - which usually results in me spending several hundred dollars for something that I'm pleased with. Last night was no exception. I bought a nice brown pencil skirt and black top at Express, a pair of cream tights at Kohls and a pair of brown leather ankle boots off Amazon (originally $200, on sale for $31!!!!). I don't want to give them anything to pick at (because they do). The stories I could tell. I looked nice.

In addition, I colored my normally pale blond hair a dark dark golden brown. It's beautiful. To be honest, I have a self-destructive streak that used to manifest itself in anorexia, as well as heavy partying and other bad behaviors. Now when I feel the need to do something radical, it results in a hair cut. This time, it resulted in my new hair color as well. I love it.


To give you an idea of what the in-laws are like...hmmm... they're all petite and perfectly put together. They like to shop at stores where a shirt costs $300 and spend $800 on a pair of shoes. They get their hair done every week professionally. They get facials and manicures and waxes. And they wear expensive perfumes that smell like shit - buckets of it. They're all older than me by at least 10 years and they're very...well...they're phonies. I've been with my husband for 25 years, and I don't think I've seen an honest emotion out of any of them in all that time.

So, we arrive and we do the air kiss thing. No one mentions my hair. No one complements my outfit. Even though I do that for all of them and they act like I'm expected to tell them how wonderful they are. Eventually my mother-in-law wanders over to where I'm sitting with my son. She's a 'touchy' woman - and by that I mean she likes to grab you and sink her claws (I mean nails) into you as hard as she can. Usually she grabs my arm. She always leaves bruises. Last night, she wrapped her hands around my neck right at my shoulders. Ow.

I can't stand it anymore. She's going on and on about my son's haircut. I say, geez, nobody even noticed my hair color change (it is dramatic). She looks down at me, sinks her claws in harder and says, "Of course I noticed. But I didn't want to say anything because I didn't think you could have done it on purpose." Yeah. There it is. (And of course, hubs doesn't hear - or maybe he ignores.)

I'm used to this kind of treatment so I laugh and say of course it's intentional. She insults my new color a few more times, all carefully worded, all the time squeezing my neck and then wanders away. I can still feel her claws.

At the end of the night, I'm standing with my sister-in-law and her best friend (who was there for some reason). They're admiring each other's shoes. I'm very proud of my new shoes so I ask if they like them. Sis-in-law looks down, kind of smiles and says that they're very "nice". Her friend says nothing. Then she asks where I got them. I should have lied. I know that. I should have said Bloomingdales or Neiman Marcus (they do sell them for $200-$300), but no, I say I got them off Amazon for a steal. My sister-in-law gasps and then proceeds to tell me how "brave" I am for doing that. She would NEVER under any circumstances buy ANYTHING from Amazon other than books. (Not that I think she even buys books.) Her friend agrees, a horrified look on her face. And then they laugh and walk away.

My husband doesn't understand why I HATE going out to dinner with his family. He doesn't get why I have to take an Ativan and drink to get through it. *sigh*

Welcome to my life.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

I'm slightly self destructive, but...

sometimes that works out for me...

With my life in such turmoil and feeling trapped in it, I broke down and did something completely radical. First, I took scissors to my hair, which is normally a little past shoulder length. I cut it. A lot. Myself.

No, I'm not a hairdresser. (But I have been trimming my own hair for years.)

I gave myself a short, layered do that came out quite nice. And then I totally lost it....

Because my hair is blonde. Well, it WAS blonde. It's been blonde for most of my life. It was a pale blonde when I was a kid that became a more muddy blonde over the years. When I was in my late teens, I began lightening it to a pale golden blond. And that's how its stayed for YEARS.

I dyed it. Dark golden brown. DARK golden brown. It's a RADICAL change. Mixed with my hairstyle change, it's a SHOCKING change. And I LIKE IT!!!!!!

It looks pretty. Different, but pretty. (I'd planned on hating it. Hah. I fooled myself.) I might even go darker next time around. (Although, I would really like pink hair.... hmmmm...)

Monday, February 13, 2012

Talking Dogs and Sleep Deprivation...

This morning:

Me: *zzzzzz*
Dog: <poke>
Me: Hunh?
Dog: <poke>
Me: <realizes alarm is wailing & shuts it off>
Dog: <poke>
Me: What do you want?
Dog: Out! (well, it sounds more like owwww, but its 'out' - trust me)
Me: You need to go out?
Dog: <stretches> Out!
Me: Okay, give me a minute. <roll over and drift>
Dog: <poke> Ouuuuut! <leaps on bed> <poke>
Me: Okay, okay! I know, you need to go out.
Dog: <stomps on me an slobbers my face> Ouuuuut!
Me: Get off me and I'll take you out!
Dog: Ouuuut! Ouuuut! <poke> <slurpy lick>
Me: <drags self out of bed, takes dog out, crawls back in bed> *zzzzz*
Dog: <poke>
Me: What now?
Dog: <sad face>
Me: I'm not getting up. I took you out already. Leave me alone.
Dog: Out!

(God help me, that is how my day started out.)

Monday, February 6, 2012

Life ... or something like it

I started this blog figuring I would be funny and smart while I shared what life was like raising a teenager with Aspergers. Its turned into something entirely different. It seems almost wrong to find humor in something that is - at the moment - anything but.

Today, I thought I would talk about what life is like right now. The first thing you need to know is that Aspergers is not something you grow out of, and its not something that can be cured. I don't care what you read or what authority claims that is the case. At best, a person with Aspergers learns coping strategies that help them to navigate this less-than-perfect world.

With my son's realization that he wanted friends - that he wanted to be a part of this world - came anxiety and depression. Anxiety because he wants so much to fit in, but learning and using social skills is like learning how to read when you're dyslexic. Unfortunately, the neurotypical world isn't accepting of someone who can't read body language or facial expressions. And people are even harder on someone who operates on a less than mature social level. They assume "brat". They label "freak". They shun and hate. So, the effort it takes to try to "fake normal" takes a toll - and anxiety is the price paid. Clinical anxiety. Anxiety that causes massive panic attacks, meltdowns, and freak outs.

The anxiety and its results lead to worse isolation and ostracizing, which lead to depression. Clinical depression. The kind that says "Why get up at all? What's the point? Wouldn't I be better off dead?" For someone with Aspergers - which has an OCD-like component where the brain fixates on something - fixating on death is a Very Bad Thing.

That's where we are right now. Kiddo was shunned and ostracized once again. He reached a point where "faking normal" was just beyond him and he fell apart. In class. In front of college students. He was humiliated. Again. His disappointment and disgust in himself is as deep and dark as the ocean. He's dropped out of college. He won't get up or shower or leave the house without a fight. I can't go out without him because death does seem like a reasonable option to him. And so I sit here, surfing the web, attempting to read, trying to keep myself sane in an insane world where nothing makes sense.

I think (and God forgive me all of you who have kids who are unaware of the world) that it would be better if he was clueless. He was happy before he realized he wanted friends. He was happy before he realized he didn't "fit" in the neurotypical world. He was happy before the "neurotypical world" destroyed everything he is with their disdain and loathing of difference. At least, if he were less functional, he wouldn't understand that loneliness is the worst feeling ever.

This is not life as it should be.