Staying Positive Pt 1

Wife has encouraged me to stay positive and remember things that made me happy when I was younger, in an attempt to find something that will tap into a social opportunity for me.

So I've decided to do mini blogs for a while on things that make me happy as and when i think of them.

Firstly, this.

Wherever I am when I hear this song, I am alone in a starlit wilderness.

It is beautiful.

My self-destruction: an analysis

I am aware I have been driving myself down a self-destructive path.

I am aware i am overeating and putting on weight and not only am I not addressing it, i am getting more gluttonous

I am aware that I keep not taking my medication, and every time I think about it, and look at it, I decide against it.

I am aware that I am suffering from depression, but I am no longer addressing it

I am aware that I am a slave to my rage, and I can't control it.

I am aware that I am close to the edge of physically lashing out, and I am not restraining it.

I am not really aware of why.

This weekend has been horrific. Twice I have had a complete screaming, lashing out meltdown in a fashion that I have not had since my late teenage years, and on both occassions the catalyst has been something very minor.

But the meltdowns have been linked: both of them have been due to DD1 giving no ground and not compromising, just as I would have done at her age. Suddenly I see how hard it was for my parents to cope with me growing up; how hard it must have been to have someone so absolutist who had no fear, no sense of compromise, and no matter what will only do what they want to do.

And I have 2 of them.

But my reaction to the minor things was far more than was necessary: slamming doors, screaming, hurling furniture and overturning bins.

If i'm honest, I'm surprised wife hasn't left me.

And maybe thats what I want.  Maybe its just time for me to admit that I am not flexible enough, and not able to cope with living in a house with 2 kids with ASD while trying to cope with my own limitations. Maybe I need to be honest enough to say that what I want is absolution from responsibility, but to achieve it i need to become the wretch no-one wants to live with.

I know it seems incredibly selfish -  No, not seems: IS incredibly selfish - but I just need time and space away from my kids to get some sense of sanity which I am sadly lacking at the moment.

I have been through the wringer with all of this though. Rage, hate, shame, self-pity, self-loathing, guilt, anger and, once again, those suicidal thought.  I stood in the bathroom on saturday after my meltdown, preparing to shave with my cut-throat razor, and i found myself simply standing, naked blade open, feeling its weight in my hand, looking myself in the eye, and feeling that urge that I get to do something I know I should not.  I actully had to picture what using it on my own neck would be like and the horrific aftermath for my family, including the permanent mental scarring of my children before I could move on, and simply shave.

And now, looking back at it, I'm scaring myself. Seriously scaring myse;f  I may well have scared myself out of this fugue.
 God I hope so.

So, where am I now and what would come next?

well, for a start i'm going to make sure i take my pills. they may not make me happy but they certainly don't make me feel this bad.
I am going to try to find rage counselling
I am going to try to find some physical activity to give me a physical release
I am going to try to find a hobby that takes me out of the house and gives me a change just to be me on my own terms, possibly with other people.
Most importantly i am going to be inclredibly thankful for the wonderful, supportive wife I have. Yes, we have had ups and downs, but I don't know if anyone else would have tried to strap-in with me and help me, particularly after my completely aggressive flip out. I am sure she was scared of me in that moment, but she was more concerned than scared and helped me find the way out.

I truly do need to appreciate her more.

I wish I had spent more time at the office

I was really looking forward to Easter Weekend.  I get the Friday & Monday off (thank you Bank Holidays), and there was some very promising television, namely Doctor Who, Game of Thrones, Revolution and Life's too Short.  I genuinely thought I would have a great time.

Simultaneously, however, I decided to see what would happen if I stopped taking my medication.  We're not talking anything really serious, just antidepressants (Citalopram, 40 mg daily).

And for the first 2 drug-free days I felt fantastic. This was Wednesday and Thursday, and I was absolutely pinging off walls, upbeat and lively and having great fun in work. It was the first time in a long time that I felt connected with people in the work environment and really talking to them. I even listened to them and paid attention.  I started to wonder if the drugs were actually doing more harm than good, so come the weekend I was confident I was going to have a great time with my kids and my wife!

Ok, the short version is that this didn't happen. What did happen was tetchiness, car sickness, unnecessary screaming, incorrect plating up of meals, incorrect plates, dislike of previously favoured foodstuffs, short tempers, thrown toys, short notice visiting/ visitors, silently counting to ten, weeing in chairs, defiance, gardening in a bloody cold wind and demand for trips out.

All in all, I would rather have been at work, which is a sad indictment of my ability to spend time with my family.  I have been high and happy at work followed by depressed and angry at home, and I don't like it.

As you might expect I have started taking my pills again, but what I really need now is a day completely to myself with no interference.  I can feel my head pounding and the thoughts trying to get out. I can feel the frustration under my fingertips vibrating with pent-up anger as i watch myself back over this "holiday" weekend, and see how little it felt like a holiday to me.#

I really just want 1 day of peace but don't know how I can achieve it, so in the short term I'll look forward to a blessed day of relief by going in to the most stressful office I've ever known.

Compared to this weekend it'll be a Zen garden.

Finding the balance: Social interaction vs: social isolation

this is approximately how I socialise

I like being in my own company.

I don't get lonely on my own very often.  I don't feel the need to be with other people. I don't enjoy being with most people and, frankly, if I can avoid a social engagement without offending people, I normally will.


I do understand, however, that this is not universal, and a lot of people would say this is not normal.

At the moment, Wife is trying to encourage me into more social activities. With all the changes that have happened to us in the last 12 months, she has decided to be more pro-active about her own social life rather than relying on me for one, and so now she has joined 2 different folk music groups, and her weekends are normally taken up with practice, ceilidhs, gigs and gatherings.  And she loves it. It makes her very happy.

So, understandably, she is trying to encourage me to find something that I am passionate about and locate a group to join. This isn't a new drive on her part, but it is more sustained than it has been previously.  I completely understand her perspective: that finding something you love to do is a blessing, that its fun, that it will help me develop friends and relationships, that she won't feel the pressure of being my entire social circle.

But here's the thing: while I'm not against the idea of having a social life per se, the more she tries to talk/ force me into doing it, the less likely I am to do it.

There is also the fact that the people with whom I am most likely to spend time are people not too dissimilar from me. Gamers, geeks, nerds and social outcasts, and if I'm perfectly honest, most people like that make me cringe, and while I might be happy to game with them, i really don't want to spend social time with someone likely to incorporate RP conversations into real life activities. I just can't deal with that.

What wife doesn't understand is that the biggest issue for me now is one of confidence.  Before I realised the extent of my difference from other people I was bulletproof in social situations: full of confidence uncaring about what other people thought of me and happy to do my own thing. It didn't occur to me that there could be anything wrong or inappropriate about what I said, what I did and how I approached people.   Now, however, things are different.  I am now very aware of my shortcomings in comparison to "normal" people, and i can't stop worrying about whether I am offending people, upsetting people or acting inappropriately.

Which means I am boring. I do nothing. I don't engage in conversation of my own accord, but wait for people to talk to me - which given that I am the silent stranger in the corner happens rarely.

I feel its a conundrum.  I don't want to socialise for the sake of it, but I can see that Wife thinks it will help both of us.  I don't mind doing it, but don't want to be forced into it. I can't be the brash, confident person I was before - turns out ignorance really is bliss.

I will work on it as i don't want to completely isolate myself, particularly with my recent marital issues, but I don't know what the solution is.

Leaving the toilet seat up: a pariah's rebuttal

As a lifelong member of the gender apparently responsible for the alignment of the toilet seat, I feel I must speak out after years of silence.  I have been oppressed to long and cannot in good conscience allow this pattern of sexist discrimination to continue.

The toilet seat.

Its been a bone of gender contention for many years and it always seems to have fallen upon us as men to take responsibility for its position.  Why? because we are the only ones who need it to be in an "up" position, whereas - women would argue - everyone needs it to be down from time to time, so the logical thing would be for it to be left in a "down" position, and for men to lift it when they need it.

Well, I have had enough of this ridiculous shenanigan! We all have hands, we can all move the damn thing, and I think that men, actually, get the raw deal on this one.

Lets just examine the physics of taking a piss.  Assuming accuracy of aim, men when standing will generally piss towards the back of the bowl, although a satisfying circular motion can occasionally be enjoyed.  the point is that the urine - if not expelled directly into the water -  hits the back of the bowl and drops, or hits the front of the bowl from an elevated angle and flows down into the water, thus removing it.  Where in this does there come an issue where men spread germs all over the loo seat? really?

 Women, however, have to wee from a squatting position, in such a way that the urine doesn't necessarily  drop down but can spray forward at a shallow angle, coating the underside of the toilet seat and as women don't have to move the toilet seat - oh heaven forbid - it means that the person that discovers this waiting piss-gift is the next MAN who has to lift it to use the facilities.

And its gross! The amount of times that I have lifted a toilet seat only to get damp fingers from the woman who has last used it, as she could neither micturate in a downwards direction or lift the lid in order to see the damage her errant urine had caused.

So, for the sake of men everywhere and because it makes sense, i am asking any woman who reads this to have some consideration and please lift the seat  for the sake of the poor man who doesn't want his fingers coated in your leavings.

...and that's how i got banned from Tesco.

Its amazing how the little things you don't think about get you into trouble. Let me tell you a story.

Today I went shopping and took me eldest daughter with me. She is 5 and has autism

As I always do, just before we left I asked her to go to the toilet, just to make sure we were safe for the hour or so that we would be out.  I hadn't taken into account the amount of fruit juice she had been drinking in the morning. So it came as something of a surprise to me when she decided to tell me in a quiet voice, at the farthest away part of the store, on a busy Saturday at 2pm that she needed to go to the toilet.

Immediately I size up the situation. Not going to the toilet is, not an option. She can't really hold it and will melt down if wet. I start moving in the direction of the facilities. It's busy, so I am dodging in and out of trollies and people, causing a certain amount of havoc as I go against the flow.  Thinking on the move, I consider that I don't have a change of clothes, that she will not be able to cope with having wet pants and trousers, and so I determine I need to get there as quickly as possible and speed up. Credit to my girl, she sped up too, but not quite as fast as I would have liked.  By the time we reach the toilet I am practically running, dragging her with me.

I abandon the trolly outside the loos and aim straight for the disabled loos - Engaged. argh! Without a break in stride I hustle her into the men's toilet - 2 cubicles, both occupied. Dammit!

By this point she is dancing and whining, but all I can do is tell her she has to wait.  As I am looking for a solution my eyes alight on the urinals...

And I get an idea.

So, quickly whipping down her trousers and pants, I lift her up and hold her over the urinal. Genius me!

"right" I say "use the toilet".

And frankly, this is where I went wrong. For, you see, I hadn't asked her what she needed to do in the toilet. Imagine my horror when I feel her tense up and start to strain.  And sure enough what I assumed was going to be number 1 was number 2.

And with perfect timing a cleaner enters the toilet as I am trying to figure out how to clean her bum without access to a cubicle. He takes one look at the accusatory turd in the urinal. A quick radio message to security later and I am being asked to leave the premises and not come back.  

But I do not leave. I explain to them about autism and the likelihood of a screaming fit if they force me to leave now plus I already have a trolly full of food outside that they will have to put back on the shelves, so grudgingly the security person allows me to collect the final item on my list, pay for my goods and leave I peace but not before reminding me that he mows my face and if I return the police will be called.

Strangely I find this funny rather than annoying. I'm sure I can resolve it with a letter to the manager but what a way to spend your Saturday morning!

Is there a socially acceptable way to say "your tits look bigger!" and other stangeness

I've fallen into bad habits.

That is to say, I've fallen into my old habits, and am acting like nothing is different (again!). I have to admit its very difficult to reconcile the ASD side of myself with my self-image.  I find it hard to acknowledge that there is something different about me (there definitely isn't anything wrong with me!) when what I am is all I know.

But there are days, like today, when my strangeness is right out there in the open and I just can't escape it.  And when i do, I come running back to blogging like an old friend who will not judge me. Maybe this'll teach me to do it more often again. Who knows? (rhetorical)

Today alone I have had 2 incidents within the space of a few minutes which unbalanced me.  Firstly was when I overheard a conversation about one of the people in work needing to borrow a laptop - a scarce resource at the moment - and being told that we couldn't help. She then realised someone else who she would be working with may have one, and expressed this by saying "Steve might have his laptop, mightn't he?"

My face flushed and my stomach grew taut. I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate and had to keep my head down until they left the room. I immediately scuttled over to another colleague and asked "what do you think of the word "mightn't"?". She pondered this for a moment and said "well, its a colloquial use term, but not one I would use myself."

I frowned "so my instinct to throttle her for it is an overreaction?"

"definitely".

 That was an hour ago, and I still don't think it is! MIGHTN'T?!?!?!?!?! There aren't enough swear words in the world to express my distaste.

Shortly after that, I walked past another colleague who is lucky enough to be pregnant again, and I noticed that as well as her swelling belly, her chest is growing. She is fairly flat-chested normally, so its noticeable.

 I wanted to try to find a polite way to mention this, which appears to be an impossibility

 wow, you're really starting to swell now.  Have you had to buy new bras yet?  no, that makes me sound like I am interested in her underwear.

Are your nipples all sensitive? hmm... a definite no.

how many sizes have your boobs incre...just stop.

I found myself stuck in an obsessive loop: I can't not say anything, but there is nothing I can say, and I started getting frantic and panicky, and had to go and talk to the new girl (who is middle aged and sensible) with whom i have developed a decent working  relationship, just to say to her "Can you tell me if there is a polite way of telling a woman "your tits look bigger". I muddled this sentence out all in one, so it was more like

"Imsorryi'mnottryingtobeoffensivebutcanyoutellmeifthereisapolitewayoftellingawoman
"yourtitslookbigger"becauseihavetosayitandmybrainismelting!!!"

she took it in her stride, laughed with me about my dilemma and gave me a few tips on talking about how well my pregnant colleague is blossoming/ blooming/ looking flush with health. All of which will apparently be interpreted as "i can see your bosom expanding."

So I did.

And I am left feeling disappointed as I don't feel I said what i wanted to say, but at the same time the compulsion has left me and I can move on.  I'm glad its over, but it has jst served to remind me that all it takes is 2 minor incidents in quick succession and I am close to my limit.  I need to find a way to cope better.