Tag Archives: abnormal

Self exploration through writing

On the way home from the store tonight, I was thinking about how most characters in books have certain virtues and talents that get them through life and hard times, such as being courageous or have a great voice (like in the book Fairest), or how many fairy tales the princess has to be beautiful and that’s what helps her, while the men are strong and brave, and don’t back down, they don’t give up. Steadfast.

So I was thinking about my characters. Since I started my writing exercises last year, I’ve focused mainly on one character, and though I do have others, they’re pretty similar. And, well, they’re similar to me, because I have a hard time writing outside of my personal experience. I can write characters that already exist, or base a character off a real person, but since my writing exercises are for me alone as a form of therapy, my characters take on traits I either see in myself or wish I had. When I write these characters down, and look at the story from afar, I can see things so much clearer than when they’re in my head, when I’m examining myself. I have to step outside of myself in order to see me better.

Claire is definitely not perfect. She has anxiety and depression, feelings of worthlessness and the strong overwhelming desire to be worth something. And in her desire to help in any way she can, she’s also afraid of messing things up, which in turn can mess things up. I noticed she has a strong maternal instinct, she has the desire to protect and to care for others, even if she doesn’t know them. She’s a nurse and a fighter, tending to the wounded after fighting a battle. She’s also practical to a fault, one some might call a “stick in the mud.” I don’t get to test out my prowess on a battlefield (and I’m sure I’d be bad at it), but I do know I’m good at taking care of people. It’s like some sort of auto-pilot comes on and I just go…

I do have a strong urge to protect people, and to help them, and to make their lives better in any way I can. I don’t know why, it’s just how I am, despite that I pretty much don’t trust anyone and am constantly on my guard. And as strange as it is, I’m loyal to a fault as well. Those people who have hurt me over the years, the people who have backstabbed me and betrayed me… I have continued to keep whatever secrets they may have told me, and I refuse to go on my public scenes to complain about them, and even here, I don’t mention names. I guess in a way, I don’t even hold it against them, really. I can still be civil with them, even if I can never trust them again. If someone else is fine with them, who am I to besmirch their name? What happened was between them and myself, no one else. I think there are maybe two or three people who I have told anything to over the years, and I’ve told them because I know they won’t say anything to anyone else and they won’t seek out any sort of payback for me. I do not need anyone attacking anyone else because I said something.

And as weird as it is, I would still help those who have hurt me. If I had the means and they needed my help, I would help them. That’s just how my family is. I can’t imagine being any different. And it shows in my characters a lot. They’re lonely, protective, desperate to be worth something, and willing to sacrifice themselves for the good of others. They are not heroes, they are in the background helping the heroes. They don’t want attention and if they can help anonymously, they will, because just the knowledge that someone might be happier, even just for a moment, because of something they did, it’s worth it. Even if it’s just smiling at someone who looks like they’re having a bad day or buying someone a coffee, or even just leaving a piece of artwork for someone to pick up.

I want to make the world a better place, I want to help people in any way that I can, and what better way than to go out into the world and touch people’s lives? It would be better if I wasn’t so… anti-social and socially awkward, and an outsider. Even if society deems me to be a freak and unfit to join their ranks, even if they bully me, and people like me, I will continue to do what I can to help others. I think that because there is so much pain even here in the states, that’s more reason for me to go do things to help out. I know the states has it easy compared to many, many other countries, but this is where I am, and where I can do the most good for now.

Misunderstanding

There’s a lady on talking to me right now and I have no idea what she’s meaning. It feels like she’s trying to tell me to stop talking about how being bullies isn’t helping anything… I know my posts tend to be long but they should be straightforward… I thought that my post would be taken as a “Don’t be a hypocrite and bullying is bad.” But people are commenting all sorts of other things on it that go deep into philosophy, and then this lady PM’d me and has just now blocked me because she apparently doesn’t agree with me? I don’t know… it doesn’t make sense to me.

I *know* not every person fighting for equality is the same as these extremist SJWs. I know not every feminist is a man hating person. I am complaining about the people who ARE. Why is that wrong??

Edited to say that despite saying she appreciates things about me and thinks I’m a good person, the lady who blocked me was afraid I was going to screenshot her and send the screenshots to my supposed MRA groups, groups for reverse racism (I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised those exist), and groups to make fun of liberals.

#1, I have never been, nor will I ever be, in groups like that ever again. I was in Sanctimommy Said What and I saw what kind of a shit hole that turned into with everyone turning on each other… And then when that other group turned on me, I just quit groups altogether except things that post pictures of cute fluffy things. I’m done with groups.

#2, I don’t side with anyone except those who strive for equality between everyone. If everyone is too busy bitching about how bad they have it, they can’t see the solutions. I don’t want to make fun of people, I just apparently have a poor way of trying to show flaws in all extremist thinking. I want to figure out why people think the way they do, and I am such a stickler for as much honesty as I can that maybe it makes me seem… I don’t know… I pick on all sides, but sometimes I guess it seems more one sided? I don’t know. I just hate that the people I thought were on my side are just as bad, if not worse, than the people they claim to hate.

If someone on my newsfeed posts something incorrect, I can’t really scroll by. If I see it enough, I’ll make a post about it. Maybe it’s more a reflection of what people post? o.O

Maybe I should just become a hermit and say screw the world, let it burn. Why should I even try to make a difference if no side will have me?

The teenage diaries

I did have a bit of teen angst in my old diaries, but the depression made everything worse. Some people on facebook were sharing things about shows where people can go to share their old diary entries and make fun of their teenage selves, and so I went to look at mine, but I can’t laugh at it.

I still feel the pain, so well. I remember the knives, the pills, the darkness… and the darkness’s sweet embrace that was always just out of reach… My entries either read as a Captain’s Log play by play on things we did, or it’s a whirlwind of confusing emotions and me trying to process it all, ending with how exhausted, emotionally, I was, and how I was just tired of the pain.

“Oh that the darkness had taken me! I would welcome that darkness with open arms, if only to be rid of the pain… silent agonies… ripping at my heart, tearing my soul apart… and there’s no one to tell…”

I wish I could laugh at my teenage self for well, being a teenager, but I remember it too well. And besides, I wouldn’t laugh at a teenager who came to me upset over something I thought trivial. That’s what being a teenager is about, experiencing new and very extreme emotions, and trying to figure them out. Sadly, some teens have to deal with things like anxiety and depression along with everything else. And I cannot laugh at that, and I feel bad because I should be able to laugh at myself. I can laugh at stupid things I’ve said, like “I’d rather die than commit suicide!” (I think I was 9?). But I can’t laugh at the pain I was in, and everything else I wrote was pretty boring, like a news article.

“I wonder what plane I will fly in next. I sort of know, but I don’t know what it looks like. As big as a 747? That’s what I flew in on the way here. I don’t feel like I’m in Korea… I don’t know what I feel. Except that I feel no fear. None. I get a little nervous here and there… but not like I thought. I feel very comfy with not being able to speak the language (the security guards wear berrets!) 🙂 I wonder how it will go when I meet up with Wang Xin. Because it will be her country and language. Such an old and complicated language too! I hope I can learn it well and fast. My brother seems to have a knack to pick up languages. He speaks Japanese quite well, though for some reason doesn’t like Chinese. Oh well.”

When I write, it’s to transfer information, or to try to organize my thoughts or just get my feelings out. Like when I have a conversation with someone, phrases mean things to me whereas they’re just filler for other people. I don’t say things I don’t mean, and I don’t ask questions unless I really want to know the answer. My journals are the same, cataloging my days, my emotions, and what happened when. I have stacks of notebooks full of stuff, and it’s interesting to watch me go from being excited about having people to hang out with, to being flat out confused as to why they suddenly stopped caring about me, why they were lying to me, using me, and back stabbing me. It made me so cynical and now I don’t trust anyone.

I will not become attached to anyone again. I will not be used unless I say so (there are some situations where I’m meh about it, and will allow it because it’s no big deal). And since I can’t tell who has selfish motives most of the time, I treat everyone the same. I expect nothing in return, so when I get nothing, I’m not disappointed. I expect people to ditch out on me, because it’s happened so many times. For once, I’m not upset that my husband didn’t get me anything for my birthday. I would prefer it if my birthday ceased to exist, I think. I have more important things to worry about than whether or not someone forgot the day I was born. Again.

I may be rather jaded and bitter and cynical right now, but I won’t let that get in the way of wanting to help people. I just wish I had more to laugh at in my journals…

Reaching the breaking point

I don’t know how much more I can take before I crack. Because my husband is in the Masters program, he has to write a thesis, and it’s a big deal, but we have two hyper little boys who are very loud… So his teacher said he needed to find a way to get rid of them so he can have quiet time. I have to leave for the entire day with them so he can get work done.

I’m so exhausted already… Going out makes it worse, especially with the boys. Because the eldest gets over stimulated so easily, being out creates more meltdowns. They’re already cranky from the past week where I had to go get a bunch of things done, a lot of it for my husband’s work.

I need to be strong. I can’t let him know how close I am to breaking, because he doesn’t need that kind of stress added to the pile he already has, but this whole thing had me sobbing in the shower and then I ended up silently crying myself to sleep. I have never cried myself to sleep before.

I’m going to my parents’ today, they can at least help, it’s just exhausting just leaving the house. Maybe they’ll let me take a nap… I wonder how far I can push myself until I break. I’m going to have to find a way to get the kids out of the house every afternoon when my husband comes home too… I don’t know what I’m going to do for dinners. I don’t know why it’s so hard to ask for help… probably because the only people that can help have problems of their own.

The lady down the street who can help has three kids of her own that are quite a handful, plus her mother lives with them and she has health issues and they always seem so stressed I don’t want to add to it. My mother in law still works, technically two jobs, and my father in law is hardly ever home because of his job. My parents are the only ones who are retired, but they’re constantly doing things. They already help so much… like when I have to go to the doctor.

That’s another thing. My doctor said I might need to be put on hormonal birth control because of the problems I’ve been having, but he’s not sure so I have an appointment with GYN next week so they can pinpoint the problem. Whether it’s a hormonal imbalance, cysts, endometriosis, or what… And I feel myself about to cry again because I can’t rely on my husband anymore. I can’t put more pressure on him, more stress. I feel like someone took a sledgehammer to my foundation and it’s shaking me to my core. I will have to talk to him, but I don’t want to.

I have no idea how much of this is unfair to me, how much I’m supposed to take, or what. I already do everything around the house. I do the automotive care, I changed the lights in the chandelier and the outside porch lights, I need to climb into the attack and change the smoke detector’s battery, I fixed the sink, I do the laundry, I make the meals, I feed the cats, I do the dishes, I do the bills, I run the errands, I make the phone calls…

He works and goes to school and most of the time feeds the dogs. Right now he’s playing video games. I’m waiting for the laundry to get done so I can get dressed and get the kids dressed so we can leave so he can do homework and have a quiet day… I am incredibly jealous. And this is going to go on until June.

I’m screwed, aren’t I.

Normal or creepy?

I just recently read a post on facebook about how this woman was taking her kids to ride a camel, and she saw this 70-something year old woman standing in the midst of all these children and became overly excited that this old woman was going to ride a camel. Ok, that’s not too bad.

But then she runs up to the woman and asks if she’s waiting to ride the camel and the older woman says yes, so then this woman says, “Okay. Of course you are. Well, I love you. Forever. Can I take a picture with you and tell people we’re best friends?” They talk for a bit, she finds out this old lady goes hang gliding and everything, and then she wrote, “…then it was her turn and I ran beside her and took one million pictures of her camel ride and missed my kids’ ride completely and somehow that was exactly the next right thing to do.” Because when she told the lady that she had a million wonderful picture to share, it lit her eyes up.

But… is this normal? To run up to strangers, suddenly completely obsessed with them, practically stalking them and taking their pictures without their knowing, while ignoring your own children? Or am I just finding it absolutely creepy because if it happened to me, I would freak out so bad I’d have to find a dark corner to rock in? I have a hard enough time with people just saying “Hi” in the store, some days. (It’s weird, most of the time I seem to have a cloak of invisibility on, even when I don’t want to be ignored… and it seems to fail when I do want to be ignored, lol)

But in the 1000+ comments I read through on the post, only one chided the woman for ignoring her kids and another said you shouldn’t ride animals because they’re slaves and should be freed. Everyone else said they were crying, that it was such a touching story, that it uplifted them, that growing old didn’t seem so bad. I’d ask what’s wrong with me that I don’t understand them at all, but I already know. It just seems so strange that this behavior is normal…

Bonding, not addiction

I found an article that actually explains myself, my behaviors. It’s eye-opening, and a bit depressing.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/johann-hari/the-real-cause-of-addicti_b_6506936.html

I’m obsessed with the game series of Dragon Age. Most especially one of the characters, Anders. Reading this article, it reminded me of some of the things I’ve written concerning escapism.

“Anders isn’t from here…” Claire said. “We need to figure out how to send him back.”
“Oh man, you’re for real aren’t you?” Baker said, smiling. “Oh man, oh man, you have to take me with you! You can’t leave me here! This world sucks!”
“I don’t even know if these books will work.” Claire said.
“Dude, take the books. If it works, take me as payment!” He was so excited, so desperate. Claire saw a bit of herself in him, the desire to escape…
“I know how you feel…” Claire said softly. “But I know nothing of Anders’ world.” She looked at Anders. He had a sad expression, but a bit frustrated.
“My world is not some perfect, amazing place.” He said. “You may think you’re escaping your troubles here, but you have no idea what you’d be getting yourself into. Before I left, there were rumors of a Blight. The Grey Wardens were gathering with the King’s army. You’d probably not last very long.”
“I’d rather die fighting some evil force than stay here and push papers all day long.” Baker said. “I have no glorious visions of battles, I know how bad they can be. I’m already depressed. Suicide here, or fighting for a righteous cause there. Take your pick.”

In another story, I wrote:

Do you want to go back?” Claire asked, finding that she didn’t want to, even though there was so much pain and death around her.

Elodie shook her head. “No, I don’t. I feel like I found a purpose, like I figured out what to do with my life for once. No more trying to fit in to a society that doesn’t care. Here, I can help people!”

“I feel the same.” Claire said. “Back home… I pushed everyone away. I had no friends except Janie, and she was always a flake anyway. It felt like every time I tried to do something, I would get shot down…”

And reading all my past posts… it makes sense. I suppose my addiction is escapism. Currently with Dragon Age, though I’ve done it with Stargate, Tamora Pierce’s books, the Heralds of Valdemar series, and NCIS and Star Trek as well. What am I supposed to do when society keeps shutting me down? I am isolated, and I’m tired of trying to “bond” with people. I’m just plain tired. In Dragon Age, it’s artificial, I know that, but it still does something for me, to hear the characters speaking to “me” and after reading this article, it makes my reaction to those responses more understandable. Such as how if I piss off one of the characters, it seriously bothers me.

I recently tried to play a Dragon Age 2 run-through where my M!Hawke was going to stay on Anders’ bad side, because I had yet to do that, and I couldn’t. I kept getting depressed, and the things my Hawke would say to Anders, and Anders’ reaction, I ended up crying more than once because it really hurt to hurt the character like that. I am a very empathic person, I get sucked into stories, and when I have direct control over it, direct control over hurting someone in the game… it hurts me.

There have been times I’ve almost broken down crying in Dragon Age 2 and Inquisition because people I don’t want to kill, people I side with even, have forced my hand and I’ve had to slaughter them and I’ll be sitting there crying, saying, “Noooo, why can’t we work this out? I don’t mean you harm!! Honest!” But the game doesn’t give me that option. These are desperate people, too desperate and too paranoid to give anyone a chance. It’s my death or theirs… Thank the Maker it’s just a game! 😦

And so after reading the article and reexamining my feelings on my own addiction to escapism, I have to wonder… Is it affecting my daily life? Is it something I need to fix? How can I fix it? My husband and I are stressed out of our minds, being worked hard, and there’s no way to end that. It should ease up at the end of May, and perhaps get better from then on, but I don’t know. If we can’t fix our situation, and that’s the only way to fix “addiction” then I suppose I’ll just have to watch myself more closely. Would I go through withdrawals if I stopped my writing? I feel like my writing has really helped me, so I have no idea to know if it’s affected my life in a negative way… I know our society has negatively affected my life… my entire life it has shaped me, formed me into this ball of depression and isolation… How can we break that?

Confusion

So… the psychologist went over the test results with me and after having some time to process it and talk to other people, I’m not entirely sure how to feel still. She said I have pretty much all the traits, but she says I seem to be able to read expressions and emotions too well to be on the spectrum. During testing, we read the picture book ‘Tuesday’ and she made mention of the fact that I said the frogs were terrorizing the birds, that the cat didn’t seem to know what to think, that the dog looked scared, etc. She also doesn’t think I’m on the spectrum because I don’t go on and on and on about my special interests. I think I’ve kinda been told to shut up a lot, and being shy, I’m just plain not assertive enough. I know I’ve gotten mad at people because I want to finish talking about a certain subject but they’re louder and more assertive than I am and so I just can’t talk.

She said I’m quiet, shy, have a monotone voice, flat expressions, I don’t pick up on social cues, my interests are abnormal, my IQ test scores were all over the place and therefore not accurate… She was confused by the fact that I’m very artistic and emotionally sensitive, and yet I analyze everything and use logic. I am an enigma. 

Talking with others who have been professionally diagnosed, they don’t think she knows how to diagnose females on the spectrum. So now I’m not entirely sure what I should do. Should I email her and ask her about the criteria for females and how ASDs present differently? Ask if she’s read anything by Rudy Simone? There isn’t much study done on females on the spectrum yet, although considering that Asperger’s in the US is still fairly a recent thing (1980’s – early 1990’s, really), so it’s not really surprising girls get passed by all the time. They’re just considered “weird.” 

So. Am I just “weird” or am I really on the spectrum and I’m getting passed by? Would it do any good to ask about it, or should I just drop it? Knowing me, I’ll be sending her an email tomorrow. Lol.