Speaking Up

Communication is a fickle subject in my family. At a very early age, I remember a lot of people wanting me to use words all the time… but my emotions seems clearer to me. I had a lot of difficulty thinking and feeling… and then all of a sudden, I had to make sounds to correlate to the words that everyone else uses in order to convey exactly what I was feeling, but do it calmly! You're a lady, after all… I was in speech therapy for most of elementary school. I also had a lot of difficulty spelling words. What was the point? 

If you know enough to correct me, correctly, then you know wtf I'm talking about!

I didn’t get along too well with a lot of people just because it was difficult to concentrate and also difficult to understand everyone. And then remember all the details... Everyone had different personalities and different attributes, as a kid… also, I tended to hit (&/or bite) other kids out of frustration… they were being mean, I didn’t know how to express myself, assaults happened. It was also really difficult to be the only one “keeping the class late” or late to recess. The systemic pressure to not hold up the entire class… there was a lot of pressure in our little miniscule society to not do that. I wouldn’t get picked on, persay… but there was definitely some bullying.

Writing always gave me a voice that I always felt like I never had face to face. Like, reverse little mermaid. I talk how I type, most times. Crickets would not convey the entire story or omit certain truths. Hey, he couldn't be at fault if he didn't say it, right???? RIGHT????????????????????

Empathsizing with others became easier once I started observing those different from me. I feel odd and weird about my past interactions sometimes. I remember being called a Ditz or a space cadet by my dad and stepmom a lot. I really hate being called those terms because it exemplifies how little they knew me, as smart. I would see them call other people those names and then I'd associate those attributes with my own. They were calling cute stupid people a ditz... and they always called me cute and they always called me a ditz.... meaning, they thought I was an idiot and they didn't believe I could change the world. 

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I think about the times in which I was asked by the teacher to go get a drink of water, or given a hallpass to the bathroom, even if I didn’t need to go. I guess those were the times the teacher took the rest of the class by the ears and scolded them. …

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In 1993, my teacher, Mrs. Williams, would give me a score card; it was tapped to the upper left corner of my desk and it was dry erase. A score was restarted everyday. I’d have to earn a round ol’ 8 pts every day…. I'm not sure what she broke down as to what earned me how many points… but I remember getting a lot of 8’s.

There’s also a memory of a worksheet, it was a blank American flag. There was an American flag displayed in every classroom…. Our assignment was to color in the flag. Naturally, I didn’t follow what was in front of me. Where one saw blue, I colored in red. And then the stars with blue, and the stripes fluctuated between blue and red. I'm pretty sure where one sees red, was blue, and white was red. Anyway, I recall her looking at my sheet, looking at the flag for a beat, and then returning to my flag. “it’s right there” …lol. I recall thinking oh. I wasn’t aware we were supposed to color in what we saw. …I thought we were coloring in what we wanted to see. Never did like empty white space. Later, this story always reminded me of that one story from Pablo Picasso’s past where his teacher wanted the class to paint what they saw outside… Pablo painted a red sky and blue grass and orange-leafed trees…. He had gotten in trouble too.

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My grandfather was a self-made newspaper man, eventually becoming the editor and chief of the St. Petersburg paper. He did that most of his career. He had five kids with his late wife, my Grandmother (d. 2015) and could pay the mortgage and have/maintain a car for pennies compared to now. So… a lot has changed. I recall him discussing the new picture technology of matting or altering graphics, he was disappointed, “how is anyone going to believe what they're seeing?” …how, indeed. Not sure if he ever knew of AI, let alone understood what Deep Fakes were...

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Communication is what a lot of my aunts and uncle (and my Dad) went into for a career. Most became teachers, one an administrator. My Dad was a high school teacher, but for most of his career, he was a consultant. He’s a great writer as well, and is very clever… his words are like brush strokes of thoughts. He thinks I'm a good writer, too.... which is probably the first piece of true praise that I had gotten in a very long while from him. He might be a Fox News lover, but I really hope he sees the error of his ways before another American Holocaust. I really don’t want to cut off my parents. My stepmother hasn’t called or sent a note since like… two years ago. Apparently me choosing Crickets over and over and over didn’t sit well with her. Oh well. …. Again, I'm not Catholic enough.

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I remember one time we all went to that mass confession thing at church. Ya know, report all your sins before the end of the year? A Father laughed at G (stepmom) for whatever she had reported as a sin. She was offended. Considering what would make her mad, I'm sure whatever she thought she had to confess was frivolous, as well. Priests don’t just laugh at people, right?

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My sister and I try to maintain a relationship but there are certain behaviors that make it difficult to stay and hang out with her and family. Sometimes it’s very triggering because my brother-in-law is smarmy and sarcastic and rudely talks back to my sister, thinking he’s being hilarious… teaching his kids to degrade and dismiss their mother. It really pisses me off, but all I feel like I'm allowed to do is supply the kids with complete respect and understanding…. So I'm the village witch and the super cool aunt. It is my fate…. I don't know if I’ll ever find the one…. It has come to my attention recently that there’s probably not a person out there that checks all MY boxes for an intimate partnership, but apparently, that’s ok, too.

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(1998) My mother had told the case study people that I was very smart and there was no indication that I was slow, at home. I was just a perfect angel. Lol. I kinda wish they had interviewed me without her. I'd have told on her… she was emotionally manipulative and basically denied there was a problem. I think she was scared to have me labeled as autistic (back then, people just called me or others the R word). She didn’t want me to be treated any different from what I was, back then. ….I mean, I wasn’t the most popular by any means… but I was def not well liked or I was a social piranha. I wasn't invited a lot of places.

At home, Mom was constantly yelling at us for stuff that was either confusing or not our faults so…. I never retained the words. The emotions were so erratic and out of control. She would have outbursts and make us cry, constantly. We were never apologized to… but after a yelling match, we’d go out to dinner a lot as treats and then, go to a movie. I'm sure in her head, these “treats” equated to apologies… but saying it would’ve been better. And cheaper. 

I have to remember that Mom didn't have a network or a village or family or a plethora of social media platforms to gain knowledge and understanding of women and healthier family dynamics... She did her best with whatever she had... I forgave her years ago, but I'll never forget. Nor will I stay quiet. 

However, going to a movie theater and seeing a movie is probably one of my favorite things to do, now... Watching a movie at home without pants is much better, but the theater experience is perfect for some bigger movies....

 

She also drank a lot. She wouldn’t drink a lot around us, but as we got older, she would become more and more relaxed about what she’d allow herself when we were there. And she would stay up for two or three days straight just coding. She makes a pretty penny now, but she basically taught herself a masters in computer science; all it costed her was her daughters’ formative years. Great job!

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(2023) When I was diagnosed Autistic (AuDHD, moreso accurately). officially and I told both parents soon after… my Dad was very accepting and said he had always had his suspicions but… didn’t know for sure.

My mother called me a hypochondriac. Lol… she said “I found you once when you were four and you had gotten into the colorful barbie bandaids. You put them all over your body. You did that for attention. You're a hypochondriac.” Lol. Ok, lady. Me, a four year old, wouldn’t have had the mental understanding of a hypochondriac, let alone the capacity to weild that sort of manipulation in a malice meaningful way. Like, I wasn’t a psychopath… I was probably fascinated with stickers or tattooes… so. Ya know. That tracks. Lol. I do want more tattooes, but that’s a different story. The dull constant pain is invigorating.  

Maybe I should get a Barbie bandaid tattoo? Lol

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When I lived with my mother in my mid to late 20s, I observed her for six months, pulling an average of how many bottles of wine she’d have a night! On average, she’d put away a bottle and a half. There were nights where she’d have much more, and there were nights where she had none.... there were a lot of mornings where she’d have “hair of dog” which was her ol’ trusty Coke Zero, with a half glass of red wine. Yes, in the same glass. She is not healthy.

 

On the flipside, my step mom would also abruptly erupt, as well… she’d bottle all her uppity critiques on how we were supposed to behave, according to a very boring man who wrote a book on teen women…. Because as we all know, age is the only indicator for an individual’s checklist in life. I really hate Common Core, and I wish it was taught to more people that what’s expected from you, at such a young age, isn’t what you HAVE TO BECOME as an adult.. You can write your own story. …it is possible. Look at me go! Lol…  

There was a moment in my very early 20s where my own father cried in front of me and then accused me for his rocky marriage. That felt great. /s

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I'm not sure how to process the feelings of resentment and anger towards Crickets. He seemingly made me choose between him and seeing my grandfather one last time, last summer. The failed relationship embarrasses me. I hate that I have to start over again. I hate that he made me choose and thus miss my last time to say goodbye… my last remaining grandparent. Someone who has been the cornerstone to this family for a long time. What legacy has he left behind, with a granddaughter who chose some schmuck’s hurt feewings over her family? I should’ve just gone alone.

 

I kept choosing him over and over and expecting a ring any day, if I'm loyal enough and he sees I'm staying, he’ll randomly wake up one day and make time and room for me in his life…… lol. What a silly ninny I was. I'm mad that I didn’t go last summer. I'm mad and resentful that we didn’t last. We were on our way to the end anyway, but him cheating really didn’t help (One Night Date; true story)… he sighs audibly from the office. I can hear him sniffling or crying. I don't care enough to go see if he’s ok. I don’t want him to be upset but at the same time, I don't care. What is that? Am I a psychopath? We don’t talk vulnerably anymore. Like, how can I let him in again? Anything he says or suggests pisses me off. 

Like, did it kill him when I changed our chat names back to our actual names? Did it kill him whenever I don’t hug him? I cannot openly give him attention and affection…

I simply cannot. I will never be with him physically again, ever. I don’t want to confuse my nervous system with even a hug. I am very particular with who I allow to hug me and who I allow near me. And where I like to hug; meaning… usually I don’t like deep emotional hugs out in public. The emotional connection is too great and too overwhelming, and I'd rather like to have privacy. I don’t want others around to think to themselves, those two are hugging too long. What, are you the hugging police? …anyway…

 

I don’t feel like he’d tell me the whole story anyway. He really likes omitting the truth, because then he doesn’t have to face it. I’ll eventually be on his shit list as far as whatever story he has to tell himself to comprehend this insanity. Or, his reality. I’ve always wanted to talk to his ex and compare notes. I’m sure everyone I've ever dated long term would attest to my craziness and high expectations, too.

 

I am in therapy and have reviewed what boundaries are and how to instill them. Wasn’t ever quite sure about redoing boundaries with him, the current ex, because they were already installed… no one wanted an upgrade; we waited too long. He’s an incredibly sensitive man who fought tooth and nail for what he has now. His quick to anger, injustice fueled negativity would sky rocket at the drop of a hat. I will be writing separate entries for those…. But his intense anger always made me feel unsafe. It was familiar because my mother would constantly blow up at us or random people in public, and we would just stand there… we couldn’t leave, that crazy person yelling at store clerks was our ride… he was unsafe, but familiar.

 

I wonder why he loved me so much if he never wanted to spend time with me? Did he just like the idea of me, being with him? Did he want his merit badge? He never understood why I loved him… his doubts definitely became truth. 

"Waiting too long to do a thing, often becomes its undoing..."

~Eva Young

 

“There’ll be others. But every time you feel love, it'll be different. Every time it’s different.”
~Guinan (ST;TNG), played by Whoopi Goldberg

Sci-fi shows is where I got a lot of my philosophies.... TV shows in general were my one consistency in childhood... But what Guinan had said to Wesley Crusher has rung the truest over my many years of dating. Every dude has been different... No one has been exactly the same... But I'm attracted to beards and broad shoulders, so... We'll see what happens.

 

Snow.