Living Life Underneath An Umbrella

I’m going to be brutally honest in this post; some might say crazy; but there are days, like today, that I think about dying.  There are bad days when I wonder whether I am worth anything; if I’m just a waste of space.  But I know that’s a lie.  I know that being an introvert and an Aspie can mess with my mind.  There are days I over think things.  And that’s when I feel like I’m losing my mind; when I want to punch walls, scream, and curl up into myself.

Today was a day that I (a) wasn’t feeling well, (b) was frustrated with things happening in my life, and (c) questioning my existence.  The good part, the sane part, is that I understand that it is just a phase I go through occasionally.  I would never kill myself though I do think about it from time to time.  Maybe I just enjoy a little self-pity.  Maybe there are times that my mind plays tricks on me.  I ask myself:  Am I more afraid of living or I am I more afraid of dying?

Since my brain doesn’t function like ‘normal’ people(those not on the Autism Spectrum), I worry if my family actually loves me; if they’d be better off without me.  And again, it’s a lie that’s trying to screw with my head.  I know that they do love me yet there are times, like today, that I do not feel loved; by my husband, my children, my parents, my siblings, etc.  I feel like I’m living underneath an umbrella; the trials of life, like rain, pummel me and I am curled up, fetal-position, underneath a blanket, waiting for the nasty weather to pass.

And pass it does.  The trials disappear, or I learn to manage them, or I decide they aren’t worth my time and energy worrying about them.  That’s how life goes for me.  I get into these little snits and I want to end it all.  I think about how I’d do it.  What would be the least messy way to do away with myself?  Then I think:  how would the person who found me feel?  That is something a person doesn’t forget, etched into your memory forever.

Sometimes I don’t even want to leave the house.  I have a desire to be involved in society, yet I don’t want to deal with people most times.   The Aspie says, ‘I don’t know how to associate with others.  And the introvert in me says, ‘I don’t want to be around people.’  Yet the real me says:  ‘I want to enjoy life.  I want to have friends.  I don’t want to let life pass me by without accomplishing the things I most want to do.’  I’ve made up a bucket list of things I want to try.  Publishing a novel, rock climbing, zip-lining, learning foreign languages, belly-dancing. What stands in my way of reaching those goals? Fear.  Fear holds me back.  Fear of failure.  Fear of looking like an idiot.  Fear of not understanding the instructions on how to do things.

And I have a terrible habit of over-thinking things, and that’s when I screw up.  I try very hard to learn things but somehow there’s a disconnect in my brain.  I am the type of learner that needs to do the thing I’m trying to learn rather than have the person teaching me explaining it with words.  I am a hands-on learner.

So there you have it; my secret pain.  It’s not something I enjoy sharing, but I want to be honest that I suffer with these bouts of depression to the point of contemplating suicide.  I am thankful that the feelings are short-lived and pass by quickly.  I believe in being positive and doing my best to make others happy.  I believe every life is precious.  I believe that the voices in our head are liars.  We are worth something.  We are precious to our families, spouses, and children.  As a Christian, I believe we are important to God as well. Our lives are important.  I heard it said once that ‘suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.’  It’s a sad fact that people who take their own lives believe that the horrible, messed-up part of their life that they are currently in will never end; will haunt them for the rest of their lives; and that’s not true.  I’d say talk to someone; get help.  You don’t need to suffer alone if you are contemplating taking your own life.  I refuse to believe the lies swirling around inside my head and so must you, my friends.  Until next time.

 

 

Did You Ever?

Did you ever have days when it was sunny and clear outside but foggy inside of yourself?  Days when you weren’t sure whether you were doing the right thing?  Days when you sat and wondered if you were wasting your life away?

Did you ever have days when it was bright outside but dark within your own soul?  Sometimes it even frightened you how you felt?  Pondering life and sometimes wondering what the meaning of it all was?

Did you ever have days when the colors of flowers seemed to be exploding around you, but your heart felt gray?  You weren’t sure if you were happy or sad, or just lost somewhere in between?

I’ve had those days.  We’ve all experienced them.  But I don’t allow myself to waste too much time over it.  It’s okay to be depressed or confused about life.  We just can’t keep ourselves there for too long because that negative thinking can drag us down further until we can no longer find our way out.

The Christmas Holiday Season is Upon Us

Okay, I’m going to share a bit of my views about the holiday season in this post. I need to begin by saying that I think people, in general, go overboard during this time of year. They stress themselves out by trying to find that special someone that perfect gift. Or they are rushing around to various functions just to keep up appearances. They overdose on holiday music played everywhere. And they wind up burned out and never get to fully appreciated what this time of year is all about.

Christmas, in my eyes, is the birth of Jesus. God’s perfect gift to humanity, wrapped in flesh, and given without asking for anything in return. To me, it is the greatest gift ever given. As we bedeck our homes, inside and out, with multi-colored lights and trees, inflatable Santas and reindeer, and covet precious handmade ornaments made by our children, we tend to overemphasis the trivial and forget about the true meaning. The light in children’s eyes, the wonder and the joy that glimmers within. Spending time with loved ones. Just sitting around a toasty fire, sipping on cider, eggnog, or a hot chocolate and sharing fond memories of Christmas’s past, gives one pause.

And we are not to forget those who are struggling this time of year. Those who have recently lost a loved one, or are hurting financially, or have gone through some sort of traumatic event. We need to let them know that they have not been forgotten and that you are there for them with a willing shoulder to cry on. Not everyone sees this time of year as festive and merry. This time of year can fill many with a sense of dread and depression. Let us lift those hurting ones up and help them through this season.

It’s not about what you’re getting for Christmas, or how many brightly wrapped packages are yours underneath the Christmas Tree. As a child I used to crawl around under our tree and discover how many had my name on the gift tag. Yes, it is exciting for children to receive requested toys. I understand that. But there comes a time when we need to explain to our children that the meaning of Christmas is more than what they receive, but what they get out of this time of year, surrounded by loving family, making their own fond memories to embrace in the future.

I’m Just A Plethora of Personalities

I have a lot going on in my head, and body, currently. Let’s see: I’m an Aspie, Menopausal, arthritic, introverted, right-brained(left-handed), and deal with bouts of depression. And I have learned to be happy and grateful throughout it all.

I have learned that being introverted does not mean that one is shy, but rather means that you enjoy your own company and wish not to be the center of attention or the life of a party. Unless it is a party of one, or two, if my dear husband is involved. And as for being an Aspie, it just means that my brain is wired differently. Does not mean I have a disease. When I was younger and in school, it hurt deeply that I was being rejected on a constant basis, and not understanding the why of it.

Here I am, a writer, though an unpaid writer(as of this writing), who relishes in sharing words that come pouring out of my brain and straight into my tiny little fingers. What joy I find in it. And, if I haven’t already mentioned it previously, I am going through the NaNoWriMo 30-day challenge to write 50k words. I’m more than half way through, for those who may be interested.

I also see the world differently. And I like that fact. Everyone is an individual who needs to see things around them as they see it. No one is a puppet. No one needs to feel that they don’t fit in if they don’t see things as others do. That is what makes us unique. I love being unique.

And as for being menopausal and arthritic, I guess that means I getting old. But I’ve had a good life up to this point, and I’m praying that whatever years I have remaining will be good also. Just need to keep working out, which unfortunately I seem to be like a damn teeter-totter, up one day and down the next. Consistency is what I lack and that needs to end. Especially with winter’s cold breath breathing down upon us here in the Midwest, I need to bundle up to work out in our garage, where we have our weights.

So, there you have it. Me in a nutshell. A woman who loves to laugh, a lot, and I must admit that I even have a peculiar type of laugh. I am deeply interested in what others think and believe, especially as a writer. I am a people-watcher. What they wear, how they move, how they talk. Again, the writer thing. I want to be more dedicated to taking better care of myself, especially as I’m getting older. I’m 51 now, so I’m not getting any younger, folks.

But I love life. I love my family and close friends. I hope that everyone reading this is content with what they have and are in this life. We only have this one life and so many years t live it. If you’re not happy, please find out why and seek out your true joy in this world. Don’t let it pass you by before it’s too late. Embrace it, learn to not only love yourself but like yourself as well. You, dear friend, are an original!

Turned Around

Being lost is a terrifying experience for me. I remember, one time in my late-teens, going for a job interview not far from my home and getting lost. For most people it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Not for me, though. I went into a spiral of fear and panic, worried that I wouldn’t make it in time. I began screaming, crying, and doing a good bit of swearing. My usual response to becoming lost, when I was younger. And after about ten minutes or so of losing complete control of my sanity, I would calm down and become embarrassed of myself for acting like a spoiled two-year old. It was silly to act like that, I’d chide myself. Here I was, a grown woman throwing a conniption over taking a wrong turn or two. Pathetic, I mocked myself.

I am still not the best at finding places I seek, but thank God for online maps! At least I have those at the ready now. Having Asperger’s and fits of rage over the silliest things, I look back on those times and have to shake my head. I used to pound my fists into walls whenever the rage built up within. As a woman, I felt it odd to get that angry. I really didn’t have a reason for this anger. It just used to well up inside of me, scaring me. But I have that under control now, thank God. But while living under that shadow, it was pretty much hell.

When you’re not sure what is wrong with your brain, it causes you to become depressed, big-time. You feel like a foreigner within your own body. Funny, if you don’t like someone, you can usually just leave their presence, but not likely going to happen if that unlikeable person is yourself.

So over the past year of my self-discovery that is Asperger’s, I have accepted my shortcomings and finally began to like myself. No more self-loathing. We all know that self-loathing gets you nowhere. It’s bad enough when others run you down, or reject you, do not do that to yourself. You have to be your own best friend sometimes. Your own biggest cheerleader. Go! Go! Go! Don’t give up on yourself.

Yep, Asperger’s is hard. You normally don’t have many friends. You scan the list of it’s traits and check off each one that you are already living with. So you need to realize your new normal. It’s okay to be different. Being unlike the next person isn’t so bad. Again, find your own unique gifts and run with them! We all have gifts. The discovery of those gifts is an enjoyable journey, at least it should be! So go out there and embrace your uniqueness! You might be amazed at what you may find.

It Can Get Lonely Here

In the past, I dealt with my feelings of isolation and being the odd one with alcohol and drug use(and lots of heavy metal music!).  For a while the substances numbed my emotional pain, but it never removed it completely.  There was always a part of me that struggled to fit in without having to rely on ‘outside help’ to worm my way into normalcy whenever I went out to a party or to a bar.  Oh I loved meeting people, especially guys when I was in my late teens and early twenties(before meeting my darling husband) but I never figured out what to say to impress them, to helped them figure out that, hey, I might just be the one for them!  Usually at parties I shrank into a quiet corner, mostly it was found in the sanctuary of another room devoid of humans. 

Back  in high school, I remember one year the first day of Physical Education class and realizing, with complete dread, that there wasn’t a friendly face in the crowd of girls seated on the bleachers.  I remember sitting on the floor and watching a fly buzzing around and wishing that I could be that insignificant bug and fly away, out of that room, out of that school, out of that life I tried so hard to fit into.  But of course, that was impossible.  I hated sports.  I was the one that, not only chosen last for the team, but a lot of times never chosen and the teacher had to stick me on a team, only to be brutalized by the groans and complaints of, “Oh no, not her!”

Yes.  I am not the sports enthusiast by a long shot.  I still cannot serve a volleyball successfully over a net!  But you know, I have come to accept my failures in that arena.  I wasn’t made to be physical that way.  But now I do run and weight lift, and I have always been a fast runner.  But when you are young and begging silently for acceptance, anything that you see yourself as a failure at, just takes another nibble out of your self-esteem.  And there is definitely a lack of that for girls while attending school, especially, I believe, in junior high school.  What a nightmare!  But I won’t go there.  Girls can be so mean at that age.  And it’s a shame, since they are all in the same boat at that point:  some many changes that a young lady goes through at that time.  But we won’t go there…again.  So if were to be asked what age I’d like to return to, it would be age 30.  Guys are better at that age too!

So it is a lonely road having Asperger’s, especially for a girl since it is more difficult to determine what is wrong with her than with her male counterpart.  I shouldn’t complain, though, since I had great parents and siblings(even though they tortured me mentally by telling me I was adopted and that the government removed the month of September, my birth month, from the calendar and that I would thus no longer have a birthday to celebrate!).  Oh, older brothers and sisters can be soooo mean. 

Anyway, to all of you out there with Asperger’s, take it from me, you do not need any substances to handle life.  Because overall it just complicates things.  Take life a day at time.  Best to have a friend to discuss this with.  It is a lonely life.  I understand.  I probably have only a few friends that I can count on.  But my husband is my very best friend.  Even though he enjoys teasing me about what I write on here.  Love your life.  You are worth it.  You are worth loving.  Be who you were made to be and embrace it. For life is short, so we need to take in as much of it as possible for however long of a time we have it.  Don’t waste your time feeling sorry for yourself.  I’ve done it and it didn’t help in the least.  If you must, set a timer for 10 or 15 minutes and have a good cry.  I’ve done that and I usually feel so much better after that. 

See yourselves as unique.  You are one of a kind, dear friends.  And you are a wonderful addition to this craziness called the Human Race.  Blessings.  Until next time,  Eva

Here I am, in the midst of so much unimportant fluff weighing me down again.  Laundry, dirty dishes, working out, cleaning, worrying about my boys, even though they’re basically men now, I feel dragged down and exhausted.  Why is it that the little things, the really quite nonessential things, really tear us down?  Again with the guilt of not writing.  It weighs me down.  Do I feed off the guilt?  Does it make me feel like I have purpose in my life, even by not writing?  Okay, maybe I don’t even know where I’m going with this.

It just seems like I’m going around the same stubborn mountain.  Around and around I go.  And of course the winter weather monster isn’t helping my depression in the least.  Can I blame it on the weather?  Probably.  But probably not a good idea either.  I can come up with a long list of reasons why I put off writing.  But they’re the same excuses I constantly bitch and moan about.  So of course that is getting old.

Does writing pep you up?  Does it make you feel happier?  Give you a sense of self-worth?  Give you a reason for living?  It does for me.  Then why don’t I write, you may ask?  Trust me, I’ve asked myself that so many times that it doesn’t even phase me anymore.  And that is sad in a way.  If one loves to write, and finds sheer joy in the putting of words to paper, then why doesn’t one do it?  I can’t explain it anymore.  Is it failure or fame that I fear more?  Is it so that I can claim that I am a writer?  I tell my family that I have so many good story ideas and great beginnings, but they just shake their heads and tell me to go write them then.  And I should. 

But there is something hidden beneath the surface.  What it is, again, I have no clue.  Maybe I don’t want to know.  Maybe I like keeping it dead and buried.  But I am sick of continuing this life without meaning.  Without driving myself steadily towards my goals and dreams.  Okay, it does have meaning, of course.  But what I mean is that I feel that I’m coasting again through this life.  And I’m fifty now.  More than half my life is over, I’m sure.  One cannot keep sitting back and allowing the world to flash before them without at least attempting to go after what they want most in life.  So, dear reader, again I ask for your valued opinions.  How do you keep at writing even when you don’t seem to have the time?  I need some advice, please.  It sincerely aggravates me that I keep talking about the same issues without even trying to resolve them.  No one wants to keep reading about the same thing all of the time. 

So here’s to reading good books, for writing about what is on your heart and in your  head.  Without excuses.  Without fear.  Without apathy.  Without complaint.  Thanks, again, for listening.  Please comment with any sage advice, or any good books that might help me out of this funk.