“I haven’t had a decent sandwich in 13 years.”

RA by Hey Fran Hey

I got my special gift from The Friendzone Podcast.  (!!!) It’s fabulous (despite my crappy photo.)  The shipping box, the presentation, the product;  all well designed and created by Hey Fran Hey and Resonance Apothecary, specifically for us, (listeners.)  It’s beautiful all the way through.  M is upset I didn’t have the partnership acumen to purchase one for him as well.  (Ouch.)  Therefore, I’m sharing mine with him.  (Lesson learned, application in progress, ego pouting.) 🤪🙃  I feel a bit like I’m in school again.  The universe is showing me all sorts of things I either didn’t notice, declined to process, or wasn’t prepared to accept in the past.

I’m glad I have this new healing tool to help train my brain to adapt to these revelations.  The effectiveness of aromatherapy in this process is impressive.  I smell the oil (Embodiment) whenever I start to wander; both physically and mentally.  I sit on the rug (Criss-cross-apple-sauce) and sniff.  (Putting both feet on the floor doesn’t help me ground myself.)  Then I fill my lungs as full as I can, hold for a moment, and release slowly.  That’s it.  That’s all it takes to get back in my body, now.  🙃  My kit, even halved, will last a long time.  I think some readers didn’t order in time, so I’ll need to wait a while before reordering, (after they recover from fulfilling the first offering.)

Amelia B. my cat
Amelia B: S’up, yo?

The universe is treating me like an adult survivor who has sat with, processed, accepted, and adapted to the joys, traumas, and everything in between on my journey so far.  I’d very much like to fall to the floor and weep because I feel like I need more time to adjust.  But life insists; ready or not, here I come.  I’ve noticed the distinction between sad and depressed as a result.  I’m sad because I can’t make the universe journey at my particular pace.  It’s merely a feeling; not a condition bent on owning me before ending me prematurely.  (Mosquito bite compared to cancer.)  It took longer to type this paragraph than to move on emotionally.  Yay.

I didn’t know what to expect regarding my healing path.  Before I had my map, I felt like I was flailing about aimlessly.  I didn’t even know how to recognize healing.  My intuition served me well as I was already doing many helpful things without realizing it.  The vocabulary and comprehension of what I’m seeking were what I most needed.  It’s certainly a process.  I’m delighted that much of the most challenging work takes place in my sleep.  I don’t awaken from nightmares anymore, which is fabulous.  But I do feel like I spend the nights in an emotionally intense therapy session.  I’m healing my spirit.  (All this time, I assumed it was my mind.  🤪)

My mind is amazing.  It’s not at all broken.  I just had to embrace a lot of hippy shit before I recognized the mind-spirit connection.  If my spirit is curled up in the fetal position in the corner, my mind loses its effectiveness and reliability, (autopilot.)  My eureka moment lasted a while, as I traced the useless pattern back to elementary school when I had an epic meltdown in class.  I learned the difference between memorization and comprehension that day.  Before that, I functioned by rote and memorized everything I heard or read while comprehending little.  My mind and spirit were not working together.  I’m autistic, and the physical environment was far too hostile for me to be all the way there.  (I figuratively sent a tape recorder to class from jump.)

funkopops
My Funko Pop collection (so far)

Then one day, it didn’t work.  Parroting didn’t cut it any longer.  My teacher wanted me to explain with my own words and prove I comprehended.  I just kept repeating my script while getting more and more agitated.  I was like a skipping vinyl record.  When the tears began, I ran home.  It was a horrible, awful day.  Fortunately, one of my brothers taught me math from fractions to trigonometry.  He made it fun, and I love math ever since.  My mom was a voracious reader.  She went through at least two novels a week.  It rubbed off on my siblings and me.  I spent much of my free time as a kid reading the books my mom gave me.  Maya Angelou, Alice Walker, Judy Blume, and Erma Bombeck were my favorite living authors until my brother introduced me to science fiction.  😆

In Elementary school, the only classes I could process were art and music.  I also learned about racism, self-defense, and the magic of not responding.  Junior High school was when I figured out how to cope with being in a classroom.  My science teacher, Mrs. Zeeb, was the first teacher I had that treated me like a student.  (She wasn’t overtly-even-to-an-autist offended I was allowed to attend school as the token black kid.)  She saw me as a human child and taught me about science.  It changed everything.  I looked forward to school for the first time in my life.  It was no longer mandatory trauma.  It was a place where I could find out fascinating information about the world.  It was a place where not all the adults were tormentors.  Mrs. Zeeb showed me not all white adults automatically hate me for existing.  I’ll never forget her.

loot
New Stuff! 👍🏾

I believe I scored well on testing because my mom had me keep a journal so we could communicate effectively since before I began school.  My brothers bought me puzzle books and loved having me recite mathematical equations for their friends, and do their homework.  (It probably would have amused teenaged me, too.)  Most of what I knew about the world came from novels and lyrics before I joined the Army.  While I had nicknames like Yoda and Professor Einstein in training, the fact I couldn’t pull off a conversation with people led to my being evaluated and diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome.  At my first permanent duty station, they called me, E.T., because I was obviously not from this planet.  (I love E.T., so I was like, bet. 😂)

I’ve been filling in knowledge holes ever since.  The assumptions I made based on limited information were probably right once in a while, but it seems like they were wrong a great deal of the time.  (For example, I assumed birth control pills were necessary to get pregnant.)  Conversations with people are required.  😂  I played basketball with my neighbor the other day, and we talked.  I’m having second thoughts about being her friend.  I like her.  Her blatant, willful ignorance, also hurts me.  She gleefully announced she’s lazy and gets all her news from a single, questionable source while denying climate change.  (In my head, I was defining what friendship entails.)

I’ve decided we’re neighbors who greet one another.  I’m unwilling to invite her into my life as a friend.  I don’t want to spend time with someone who hurts me because they’re too lazy to grow and become their best self.  I don’t want to waste my precious energy, trying to coax her into being a reasonable citizen of Earth and adult.  It’s her choice to ride her privilege rather than live her best life.  Many choose this path, unfortunately.  Not it.  I’m low-level grieving what could have been.  However, I won’t allow anyone to hurt me.  I’m off to band practice.  💜✌🏾

 

“The heat pump blew all the fuses.”

house on top of building

I’m preparing to embark on a project with M, soon.  We’re going to design and build a miniature version of our dream house.  We’re still negotiating the materials.  (You know I want to use 3D printers. 😉)  M insists the final design must be as detailed and tactile as possible without spending a small fortune.  My inner hippie jumped forward and suggested (out loud) we use recycled Amazon boxes as a sole source of materials.

Isn’t it weird when your gut reaction is so spot on, it has layers of rightness that slowly and steadily reveal themselves?  And you think to yourself; maybe I’m more complicated than I realize.  🤔  (Then something shiny happens, and you laugh and forget all about it?)  Heh.  I should probably stop believing we’re still in negotiations over which materials to use.  (No-dee-duh.)

colorful painted houses

We’re in the thinking about it stage.  I’ve been watching lots of house shows on Netflix and noting features I appreciate.  I’ve also had a few glue-gun fiasco flashbacks from when I made my custom RGB LED lights.  And that time I cut off the tip of my finger when making my last quilt.  (As far as I can tell, it grew back.  Yay.)  I’m confident I won’t have these issues now that being deliberately present is a habit.  💪🏽

I think it’s cool that I learned it from studying Stevie Nicks interviews on YouTube as the first domino in a series of life lessons from various sources.  From take your time and exist at your natural pace, to full-on hippie status on my journey to enlightenment.  I’m dead chuffed.  (Shup.  Been waiting for ages to use that phrase.) 😂  I didn’t even know music was an epic teaching tool a decade ago.

The Army already taught me novels could only get you so far, but when paired with music, it’s a surprising distance.  I feel like I’m just getting warmed up in my exploration of music that moves me.  I’m embarking on a study of Dolly Parton, now.  No introduction or explanation is necessary;  she’s fabulous.  I strongly suspect she has lots to teach me.  Yay.  (Old school triple-threat; where the third threat is a topic that can easily lead to violence, especially if alcohol is involved.) 🤭

grado headphones

I can listen to Jolene on repeat for hours.  I love that song.  I’m also looking forward to watching Nine to Five, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, Straight Talk, Steel Magnolias, and Joyful Noise, again.  I’m not really into country music, but some of it jumps out and says, yes you are, at times.  Some artists pull fans from all genre preferences, and Dolly Parton is one of them.  I’m off to watch my shows.  ✌🏽💜

“I figured I could afford a fake house in the Hamptons.”

heart shaped balloons in the clouds

The Unknown Mother

You don’t know me.

We’ve never met.

But we have this connection

of grief and regret.

A progeny of hope,

his life just started,

destroyed in a moment.

A dream departed.

I’m terrified,

never did this before.

Why wasn’t this part

of my training for war?

No time to panic,

no time to cry.

I’m calling you in my mind.

Please understand why.

I’m not a medic,

just the two-week course.

It’s why I’m praying

and trusting in The Force.

The squad is horrified,

their first brush with death.

It seems it’s all up to me,

if I can catch my breath.

I’ve seen death before

when a foster-brother died.

But now I’m a soldier.

I can’t run and hide.

I’ll borrow your perspective

and see through your eyes.

Your love for a son,

help render me wise.

Don’t know if you’ll see him.

Don’t know how it works.

But know if you do,

the mental image will lurk.

I’ll sing to him softly,

wash the blood away.

It’s helping to keep

the hysteria at bay.

Imagining I’m you,

will tend to him gently.

And muster the courage

lovingly, intently.

I loan you my hands,

my determination.

And share in the sorrow

for your lost creation.

Don’t know if you’ll see him,

or just a flag-draped box.

It’s all I can do

to soften the shock.

The tears are escaping.

We’re preparing to go.

I hope what I’ve done

somehow lessens the blow.

You don’t know me.

We’ve never met.

But we have this connection.

I’ll never forget.

by Unabashed Autist

“I’ve driven women to lesbianism before, but never to a mental institution.”

kittens wrapped in a blanket

I’ve draped myself in the comforting blanket of music, of late.  It’s gently healing the many wounds I’ve acquired on my journey so far.  In this pleasant space, I’m building a better survival strategy for when The New and Improved Depression Monster (TNAIDM) ambushes me in the future.  I’ve acknowledged how it affects me; out damn pride.  First to go is my wit.  I cannot rely on my keen mind when stapled to the floor.

woman listening to music

I don’t know how TNAIDM steals my intellect and rationality, but the evidence is overwhelming.  I must plan accordingly.  My inner gamer sees this as a challenge.  There are no walk-through videos to study on YouTube.  No strategy guides on message boards.  Only me, my presently uncompromised wit, and my shelter of music.  Challenge accepted.  Victory awaits.

Today, this blanket consists solely of music by Sheryl Crow.  As I listen and sing along, the lyrics reach me.  My strength and resolve rebuild.  My focus broadens, and my sorrows fade.  I remember who I am and embrace the biggest picture I’m able to perceive.  I’m stardust floating through space.  Soon, my minute of life will end, and what remains will drift on with the expansion of the universe.

All my pain is insignificant from this perspective.  I can breathe.  I can even laugh over the concerns that leveled me yesterday.  They fail to weigh me down when I zoom out and allow myself to float.  Snapshot.  Save.  Remember.  💜

 

“I think we all would have been a lot happier if they hadn’t landed a man on the moon.”

tickets

I know.  (Head suddenly too heavy to hold up)  What the hell, Alison?  I’m sorry.  I’ll get my shit together straight away, and get back in sync with the blogosphere, as soon as I finish this one thing.  For, today is the day M printed out the concert tickets.  (I know I said it weird, but it’s to signify this epic event.)  Yep.  We print out our tickets; we’re so old.  😂

freaking jubilant

Besides, I wanted something I can sleep with hold until it’s time.  So did the young woman we’re chaperoning to the Beyoncè show.  She (17) makes me feel a lot more secure in my reaction, (which consists of me nearly freaking out.)  We keep texting each other reminders that The Carter’s do not tolerate *lickspittles, to stay calm.  (*My new favorite word, isn’t it fabulous?  Thanks, George.)

I’m freaking jubilant.  I decided to give my brain the rest of the day off for good behavior.  I’ll likely spend what remains of it jumping up and down while listening to music.  Yay.  Here I go.  💜