The Solitude of Morning

I find the solitude of the early morning hours a welcome relief from the trials of life.  It feeds my soul, to sit at my laptop in the kitchen, coffee in hand, and check either e-mail or Facebook.  No one else is up yet.  The house is relatively quiet except for a mouse we seem to have running loose.  I can hear him hiding out in a corner chomping away at a piece of Kibble stolen from my dog’s food dish, or one found on the floor.  My dog is a very messy eater.

I can sit, basking in the solitude, and reflect on the day before, or plan out the new day while my thoughts are fresh and my head clear of any distractions.  Weekends it’s normally grocery shopping and church service, while during the week it’s about going to work and doing the chores around the house.

Lately I have been keeping myself busy with short story revisions.  I have joined a few critiquing groups on the web, which I am enjoying.  Still need to take the next step and start submitting work.  I have difficulty in choosing what magazines to send them off to.  Some publications accept works all year round, while others have certain time frames, some accept work from beginners, while others prefer established writers.  While I may not be a beginner, I have not earned a cent off my writing…yet.

But there are mornings I wake up, and my heart is sad.  I am sensitive to the pain of others.  I know that there’s not a lot that I can do to change that, but the news stories still haunt me days, weeks, later.  Especially at this time of year.  I see an overabundance of greed, eyes focused on gaining material possessions, and why?  All things eventually break and get discarded.  People need more peace in their lives.  Though technology has made life easier, people seem to be more miserable than ever.  Why is that?

I am truly blessed to have a loving and supportive family.  When life throws a fast ball my way, I can dodge it with the assistance of family.  And family is important.  They should be your support system.  And if they are not, I have compassion on you.   We all need someone to be a cheerleader for us.  Rooting us on.  Telling us, “Go on.  You can do it!”  Would the world be a better, happier place if we all had that one special person?  Yes, indeed it would.

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

The Difficulty of Friendship

Okay, if you know anything about Asperger’s is that we have a difficult time making and maintaining friendships.  I just never got the hang o f it.  I probably can count on one hand the number of friends that I have.  And this isn’t an attempt to garner pity, but just sharing a truth.  Growing up, I always wondered why I was so different from everyone else.  I  wanted friends.  I just didn’t know how to get them.  I couldn’t maintain good eye contact, I was not proficient at small talk, and I wasn’t sure how to act around other people.  It just seemed to me that other women were completely into other things that I had no interest in:  scrapbooking, for instance.  I was attending a new members’ class at a local church when the discussion turned to what the other women’s hobbies were.  They gushed about scrapbooking.  I guess I just didn’t get the thrill of it.  I, for one, didn’t even have a large collection of baby photos of my two sons.  It just wasn’t something I thought of doing, as a woman with Asperger’s.  I didn’t know then what I know now.  Unfortunately for my sons, they won’t have a lot of childhood photos to look back on.

But I was always the quiet one.  Not that I always wanted to be.  I talked the ears off of people I knew.  And just ask my poor husband how much I talk to him.  He just tells me that I must be saving it all for him!  Lucky guy!  I’ve heard that us women have so many words that need to be used up in a day, and he gets to hear almost all of them.  I bet that he feels so honored!

Anyway, I am not a social person, not even with my own family.  I like to see how they all are and then I normally shut up after that.  It’s not that I don’t want to talk to them, it’s just that I don’t want to talk period.  No offense to my family. 

It’s lonely, though, not having friends to confide in, though my husband is my best friend.  I’m thankful that he does listen to me, for the most part.  It used to make me cry, wondering why I was so different.  It doesn’t anymore, because now I  understand.  It is just the way that I am.  It’s not that I don’t want to change, but there are times that I much rather be alone with my thoughts and my books.  I love reading, because they help me with my fantasy life.  I have an amazing imagination, that’s probably why I love to write.  But I won’t go there this time. 

So, if you see someone who doesn’t seem to want to be the life of the party, it may not be that they are terribly shy or standoffish, it could very well be that they just don’t feel like speaking but would much rather listen to what is going on around them.  And that’s not such a bad thing to be.