A secondary blog for exploring the quirks and dark corners of my mind. My primary blog is @NDCirque so if you get a reply or reblog from that ID, that's me and it's Tumblr's fault.
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I've now started three videos that I did not post. Two I completed and just filed away, one I deleted in process. All were on political topics, things I feel strongly about. But in the end I just felt like I was an old man yelling at a cloud. I would make no difference. It would do nothing. So why bother?
The disability pride flag is deliberately lower contrast for accessibility for some sight-related disabilities.
Thatâs fair. But it brings up the question who is the flag for? Disabled people know theyâre disabled. This flag is to make it clear to non-disabled people that we are here. While I understand the idea behind toning down the colors, in a world where everyone is screaming for attention, politely raising your hand isnât gonna get through the noise.
This is Disability Pride Month, which I think is great. One lf the symbols I'm seeing a lot is the Disibility Pride Flag
Each colour has a meaning. It's a clear simple design. I would compliment the designer.
And yet it bugs me.
I guess the problem I have is that the colours are all soft. Like the flag has gone through the wash a bunch of times. Not black but charcoal grey. The red, the yellow, the blue are all slightly washed out, softened. Even the white feels more like a very very pale gray. This gives the flag a slightly, what's the best word...apologetic feel. Whenever I see it I think the contrast and saturation on the image must have gotten turned down. It looses much of its punch.
I like the design, but give me a pit of midnight in hell black, give me a fire engine red, give me a Arizona sky blue not a baby blanket blue. I want a flag that says we are here and you WILL pay attention to us. A flag that says that yes we have disabilities but we DEMAND respect.
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I don't know how my partner does it. They interact with people, chat, have conversations, engage in smalltalk, with people anywhere and everywhere. I can't do that.
A bit of a vent
We were at Canadian Tire yesterday. First they kept chatting with other customers. I just wanted to get our stuff and go but no, there was all this social stuff they did. Then as we were about done, I was checking out actually, my partner saw a couple of kids (about three and six I'd guess) standing by the ladies room. I guess their mother had told them to wait while she went in. They were nervous and the younger one was a bit fussy. My partner went over and talked with them. Calmed the younger one down until the mom came out. Then chatted with all three until we all left the store. I don't know how to do that.
At the next store my partner got in a long conversation with the person behind us in the checkout line. That's after chatting with and assisting a couple of people while we were in the store.
Then we went to the mall. As we entered they stopped to talk to a cluster of 20-somethings (like 1/3 our age) and complimented one guy who was wearing a complete tie-dyed outfit, with hair to match. I mean it was a really good looking outfit, but I wasnât going to say anything to them. I don't do that.
I mentioned to my partner how wild this was to me. How I just can't do this. Their response was, "I donât understand, it's easy. You just start a little conversation".
Riiiiight. You do know that is precisely the thing I'm not good at donât you?
I have no idea how they or indeed anyone can do this. Can just walk up to someone in a store and start chatting. Can carry on that kind of conversation with a total stranger. I have trouble knowing what to say to people I know well. Strangers are just a whole other level of awkward.
For example last weekend we went out for lunch. Parked right in front was an older guy on a motorcycle. It was a really nice ride. I thought about going over to talk to them, compliment them on their bike. I mean I'm an older guy too, a motorcyclist even. We would have that in common. We'd have that to talk about. But I didn't. I just couldn't. It felt 'pushy'.
It's one of the reason'e I haven't gone to any ComicCon type events. Yes, it would be a chance to meet the artists I admire. Yeah, but no. I literally would not know what to say. It would feel very awkward. When I was at University I had a chance to meet Dr. Tazieff at a Geology Department reception. (I majored in Geology and he was one of the world's top Volcanologists.) I even went, but stayed in the corner and left early. I just couldn't go up and introduce myself.
I can interact with people just fine when circumstances require it, at work, when we are on a project, when I'm teaching. But these random 'oh just start chatting with someone' things I don't do that. When I talk to a stranger, or for that matter even someone I know, I have a purpose. Usually itâs a question or a request. Once that is taken care of, honestly Iâm out of words. I donât know what to say.
I just donât understand this casual, small talk thing. It is a mystery to me. Oh I learned long ago to not go on and on about my interests. If they want to talk about things, that's fine. I have the nod, the smile, the 'that's interesting' taken care of. I've had a lot of people say I'm a good listener. But if the talk lags, don't expect me to keep it going. That's not in my skillset.
Today is Fatherâs Day. My partner has made a number of comments and gestures about Happy Fatherâs Day. On Facebook there was a comment from my partnerâs family about how great it was that they all married people who were such wonderful fathers, and named all the spouses including me. The thing is though, Iâm not a father. I made it clear when my partner and I got together that that was not a role I rver wanted. We have not had children. I even spent good money back then to make SURE I would never be a father. Thank you I guess but itâs not my day.
But now Iâm getting recognition on Fatherâs Day and I gotta say Iâm not really comfortable with this.
I am home at last. I finally just collapsed last night. Three weeks on the road had done me in. The trip out. Hotels. All the people to visit with when we got there. Staying at other peopleâs houses. The trip home. More hotels. Finishing it off with a stop at Costco and Fred Meyer for things we always get in Bellingham. It was my last ounce of strength. My last nerve. I told my partner that I was on the verge of collapse. We finished up and got to the hotel and after chilling for a bit I skipped dinner and crashed out. I had done what I could. By morning I was feeling a bit better. We got going very early and made the second sailing back to the Island. Weâre now back home and it is so good. My stuff, my bed, my cats, my food, my routine. Already my energy and spirits are improving.
When I was a kid I was teased about my odd interests, about the foods I disliked, or the clothes I preferred to wear, about a lot of things. When I grew up, for a while I tried to hide that side of me. I tried to fit in with other adults, I wore a suit, tried to eat the popular foods and watch the things my peers did. Then one day I realized something: I AM an adult, a grown-up. I can do whatever the f- I want to. If other people donât like it or think itâs childish thatâs a them problem. I like and watch cartoons and anime. If someone doesnât like it thatâs too bad. I donât like violent or scary movies or shows. I donât care if âeveryoneâ is seeing something. If I donât think Iâll like it I donât go. I can do that, Iâm an adult. I also talk âoddlyâ with a lot of complex words. Itâs the result of the stutter I struggled with as a kid. I developed a huge vocabulary because if one word didnât work, I could swap in another. Some people have told me that I should try to talk ânormalâ. They said the way I talk makes me sound pretentious. I told them to f-off and then asked of that came across as too pretentious. Conversely, people my age eat stuff like cottage cheese and drink coffee. I donât, I think those are nasty. So I have peanut butter sandwiches, or pudding, or sometimes mac & cheese if I feel like it and drink sweet tea or Pepsi. Why? Because I like it and Iâm an adult and can do what I want.
I understand that some of us have higher support needs and wonât be able to live on our own. But for those of us who will become independent keep this in mind. Being an adult isnât like being a kid in school, you donât have to fit in with the group. You can find your niche find people who get you, find a job that suits you. You can be true to yourself. Is it easy? No, but itâs no worse than masking all the time and trying to be someone youâre not. And not having to mask all the time is healthier for you.
âWhy donât you visit the guys you used to work with? You were good friends with themâ
My partner mentioned this one day when I was wondering out loud where I wanted to ride next.
âOh yeah, but uh, no.â
âWhy not?â
How do I explain this. You see yes we got along really good when I worked there. We had some laughs, went through some good times, and some bad. It was great. But that was when I worked there. I quit five years ago. I learned long ago that there are coworkers and there are friends. I can be friendLY with coworkers but as soon as we arenât working together itâs over. In the past I have tried to keep a relationship going, emails, that sort of thing after I left a job. It never worked. The only thing keeping us together was that we worked for the same company. Proof? After I leave a place nobody ever tried to call me up, meet at the pub, or anything. The couple of times I tried to stop in to say hi at my old place of work, it felt awkward and weird because I didnât work there anymore.
So no Iâm not going to swing by the shop to see everybody.
Honestly though, I can say the same about people I knew in school, people I knew I in University, the neighbours we got along really well with three houses ago, people I was on various projects with or in plays with. Once it was over, once the thing that kept us in each otherâs sphere ended, it was over. My partner is different. They keep in touch with people they knew from college, from various jobs, from childhood. I donât. They were all situational, and the situation ended.
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We are working with a company that we have worked with for well over a decade. My partner and I worked FOR the company for quite a few years. We have a very good relationship. But with our latest project they are behind schedule. I dropped the person we know best a note asking what the status was. I got a call back, they were very apologetic, but April was a mess, with people quitting, new systems not working, and personal things happening that put them way behind.
Now like I said, I worked for them for some years. I know how this goes. But I couldnât help think of the times I was on the other side of this. That something happened and I would try to explain why, only to be cut off and told I was âmaking excusesâ.
Often when someone says âThat person has a mental problemâ they really mean, âI find it annoying and want to pathologize them to make it go away.â
Just had a meltdown. Fortunatly nobody was around and Iâve gotten myself put back together, but nonetheless it happened.
For me my triggering thing is money. Not that we are in trouble with that but I have always had trouble dealing with financial things. Right now Iâm doing the paperwork to close one account and consolidate it into another one at a different institution. The sort of thing that people do a million times per year. For most people itâs not a big deal. But for me it is. You see there is a deep dark part of my psyche that is convinced that those on the other end are looking for a way, any way, to rip me off. I tried doing these forms myself and I just couldnât. I got a few things entered, wasnât sure what they were asking for, and panicked, literally panicked. So yesterday I met with an investment person at my Credit Union, thatâs where the money is going to. She went through the form and got things sorted out. I just needed to bring the forms home, enter their handwritten information and changes, and then send them off to the investment company.
Unfortunately today while I was doing that I found another error and I lost it. I just freaked out and had a meltdown. You see I am CONVINCED on a deep visceral level that if I send these forms in with an error, any error, the tiniest most microscopic little thing, one digit in a 32 digit number string, the right data in the wrong place, a font they donât like, they will have their chance. The company will blame the credit union, who will blame the company, then both will blame me, and my money will have vanished like a playing card in the hands of a magician. The rational part of me is telling me that isnât how it works. That if thereâs an error they will check with me and sort it out. But the emotional part of me just panics. I just cannot trust people or even worse companies when it comes to money.
This is why I just hate dealing with financial things like this. I KNOW I will screw it up and I KNOW that it will leave me broke. Yes in school I went through a couple of classes about that sort of thing and I did very well. But that was theoretical.That wasnât real money. That wasnât MY real money. My partner on the other hand is great with financial things. They balance our check books, and they decide on investments, and let me know when I need to do something about taxes, and all of that stuff. Because of this though, they just canât understand why I have so much trouble with it. They just shake their head and laugh it off. But for me I just find taxes, and investments, and insurances, and accounts, and retirements, and all of that terrifying and overwhelming.
If we autistic people can have âspecial interestsâ can we also have âspecial blind spotsâ? Particular things that we just canât manage?
I know it may sound weird but I donât really like sleeping. I donât dream generally. At least I donât remember them and if I do itâs the bad ones. I may feel less tired when I wake up but the difference is subtle. My sleep period is chopped up with being awake several times in the night. These periods range from a few minutes to an hour. When Iâm trying to get to sleep itâs boring and when I wake in the middle of the bight my mind is wandering keeping me from dropping off again. Worst of all I keep thinking of all the things I could be doing except I need to sleep for a third of the day. A third of my life when I am not writing or reading or creating or the other things I love to do.
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When I was a kid my folks drilled into me that you have to think ahead, think of the consequences, always keep in mind what comes after. The result of this though is that I learned to not react to things. When I was a kid I held back from having a tantrum or a meltdown, because I could hear my Momâs voice saying, âand what are you going to do after? What did that accomplish?â I did not get angry, or more accurately I didnât show that I was angry, because that wouldnât fix things, it might even have made the situation worse. I learned to swallow my feelings, hide the hurt, mask my anger, bury my sadness. If things got to be too much, I would go away, hide in my room, hide my feelings. I would shut down, but only in private. This made me a âgood kidâ who âdoesnât cause problemsâ. But it also meant that I donât really know how to deal with emotions. I donât shout, or scream, or punch a pillow. I donât act out, or talk to anyone about it. I,grew up with the idea that emotions are private things that arenât shown. Ok, there is humour, laugh, make a joke, deflect, distract, thatâs acceptable. Thatâs what my dad used a lot. He of course ended up coping, alone, with alcohol. Thatâs why I donât drink. But telling someone, âyou fucked up and Iâm really pissed about thatâ, nope. I just donât do that. I donât know HOW to do that. It does make me an adult that has an air of calmness, of rationality, of logic that others find comforting. They donât know that inside Iâm often holding everything together with duct tape and hope.
Did you ever play âhouseâ or whatever they called it when you were a kid? You know the game where you would pretend to be a mommy or daddy doing normal things? I never did. Being a normal person in a normal family living a normal life sounded boring to me.
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