Musing about randomness…

I am musing about randomness because of the weird thing that happened today.  Not really weird, but a thing to ponder.  I never know how to behave when coworkers do things to help you.  I usually stay in my cube (see Rule #1) and don’t interact with the humans (see rule #2).  We are however, supposed to be putting together lists of things that we are supposed to use in Head Start every day.  I had no idea where this mysterious list was or how to get it.  So, my coworker who I have been blantantly tiptoeing around (not something I do well) and avoiding like the black plague, actually came to my rescue.  She provided me a list and then helped me put together one of the toy boxes as well as giving me her extra toys.  It was a moment in kindness that I just don’t understand.  I was pretty sure that she was avoiding me as much as I was avoiding her.

We had a gigantic meeting yesterday, and of course that involved me sitting in a room with 30 people and trying not to jump out of my skin all day.  When we were finally able to break for lunch, I ended up at my desk trying to recoup because I was completely over stimulated. This same coworker told me that I needed to be back in the meeting room, but I couldn’t.  I needed five minutes to defrag.  And so I was taking them.  I told her that I was over sensitized and needed to just sit by myself for a minute, got an odd look and went on.  It was an odd little moment.  So, I know the socially acceptable thing to do was to sit with my coworkers and be really excited about this “gathering”, but I’m not a gathering kind of person.

There are so many nuances of this office life thing that are WAY hard.

It just keeps getting better…

It doesn’t really, but I keep hoping.  I have had this sense in the last three years that while simultaneously stalking me and trying to completely control every aspect of my life, my ex is trying to eliminate me from at least my son’s life.  They call his wife mom and don’t allow him to call her anything else.  They act like I’m a bad word and punish him for all but the worst thoughts about me. 

It’s funny to me, though, the more you try to get someone out of your life, the more embedded in your life that they somehow become.  For instance, I stopped communicating with Scott and stopped accepting mail or email from him.  So, he took me to court for more visitation. Which my son didn’t want any part of.  Then the judge told me that I needed to make sure that my son had a relationship with Scott when neither of them wanted that at all.  I’m sure that they still don’t have a relationship because I still haven’t heard about what a great guy Scott is.  I know why this is.  Because he’s not a great guy. He’s an asshole hypocrit with a cause.

And so it goes on.  I’ve been living with the idiosyncratic and stupid decisions of a judge whacked out by his own need for ego stroking and a man who thinks that he can do no wrong and who has been given free license by the court to think so. I’ve been told that I have no right to feel sad or mad or angry or any of the things that I feel.  I’ve been given no outlet for any of it, and so it sits inside of me like a rock heavy and frozen in place.  I’ve been told that my disability is a crippling horrible thing to have saddled my son with.  The only genes that I regret giving my son are Scott’s.  I can’t help it that mine were part of the bargain.

The court has allowed Scott to rape me, blame me for the act, and then punish me for it.  The court has allowed him to stalk me and gain power where there was no right for him to intrude. The court has allowed him to sever the relationship that I had with my son and has turned it into some horrible thing that it never should have been.  It’s as if mom is synonymous with horrible pain that never stops making you bad.

I struggle with all of the decisions that I ever made for Wee Geek everyday. I tell myself that I did the best thing for him at the time.  I believe this.  I never would have severed the relationship that Wee Geek had with Scott. However, the problem became that because of the kind of person that Scott is, there was no relationship.  I laugh at how easily the judge was won over by the one story of the closeness of their family. They watch “Heroes” together and Wee Geek got them into it.  Well, good for them.  Never mind that I made sure that he played soccer 3 times a year and went to Scouts and that we spent every Saturday together doing something like going to the movies or sniffing out flea markets.  Never mind that our relationship was crafted over the time of two people realising that they are the same in this very integral way and that in their own small world they are the only ones like them.  Nope, should have watched freaking “Heroes”.

How could anyone ever entertain in a million years that Scott is a decent parent?  He’s not even a decent human being.  He’s lied about every part of himself.  The only hurt he owns that is real is that his mom died when he was 10.  I doubt now that his father abused him. I doubt that he ever had anything going for him at all. Because he still doesn’t. His entire life is an illusion based on his wife’s credit rating.

But for me…the reality is that I worked so hard to make sure that my son would graduate and he’s doing it without me and under duress.  I worked so hard to make sure that he would drive, and have a job, and have some semblence of normalcy and he’s there because of how hard I worked for him, but I get nothing of the pleasure of it.  Scott gets to take all of the credit for raising Wee Geek to be the wonderful young man he is and instead he did nothing. I couldn’t even get him to pay child support half the time. Don’t even mention all of the soccer fees, and boy scout camp fees, and tutoring fees, and medication expenses.  I did all the hard work!

Okay, I’m feeling a little less ranty.  I’m just so fed up.  Wee Geek  is 18 and they are still trying to tell me that I can’t see him or talk to him.  But I’m sure the 18 defense will get thrown out somewhere to justify something they do.  It’s crap.

Breakfast with husband always enlightening…

I’m trying to get better about blogging every day.  I know this sounds odd. There was an episode of  “House” last night that had a girl on it who blogged all the time.  She told her husband, “I wish you had a blog so I knew what you were thinking.”  I like this idea.  I’m of course, in my own special little autistic way imagining everyone walking around with screens on their foreheads with their thoughts running constantly across them in blog format.  Wouldn’t that be wonderful.

Most people would probably think this was awful.  But it would be an Asperger’s person’s best dream. EVER.  I would not have to ever guess about what someone was thinking or feeling about me.  It would be right there on their head for me to see.  It would make my life so much easier!  No more guess work. No more misinterpretation.  A life saver for sure!

So, I went to eat brunch with my husband on Sunday morning. We stopped in Anderson on our way down to see IMAX 3-D “Alice in Wonderland”.  We talked, as always.  Of course, it seems the conversation always runs to Wee Geek.  It’s bizarre that it never leaves my brain.  I thought his comment on the whole thing was very insightful of our life, in general.  “Let’s not think about it, today.  Let’s just try and have a good day.”  Well, that’s what I do every day and it’s not working for me.  So, when can I deal with this, exactly?  I spend every day avoiding it and skipping around it. Pretending it’s not this horrible monster hiding in my closet, ready to pounce out at me and eat me alive.  Of course, because I’m afraid that this is exactly what it will do, I do nothing and pretend it doesn’t exist because grown ups don’t believe in big awful monsters that hide in thier closets waiting for an opportune pouncing moment.

I’m always feeling as if my nerves are on top of my skin these days.  But I’m supposed to forget about it for a day and just pretend.  I really thought these pretending days were over.  No one believes me that this all happened and there is nothing that I have done to deserve it.  They always have that little piece of doubt in their minds that show me that they are honestly thinking that there must be something else and that I am somehow editing the universe to a softer kinder one.  Yeah, this is the kind version of my life. (Cue sarcastic voice dripping with more sarcasm and with a big sarcasm cherry on top.)  I hate this.  The looks because people are so naive and that justice is fair and that they would never do anything that wasn’t the best thing for the kid.  But it happened to me.  I have watched it happen to many other people in those courts over the last few years.  I wonder how much it costs to bribe a judge in Delaware county.  That would be so interesting to find out. Just because I hugely suspect that my ex and his lawyer are doing it.

At any rate….as I said, I can’t just stop thinking about it because in Asperger’s-land, it affects every part of my life, all of the time.  It never goes away. And it always makes me want to break down into uncontrollable and unstoppable tears. Nothing helps, though.  I mean, tears can help reduce the stress somewhat, so can massages.  But in reality, the whole situation needs to just go away and stop. I don’t know how to make it do that.  I wish that I did.  In typical autistic fashion, I am banging my head into the wall repeatedly, hoping to release some small tidbit that I keep overlooking or ingnoring or not noticing.  Not happening.  But I guess that a girl needs hope. Not a typical AS reaction, surely. But a human one.

Two courts and my ex is still an asshole….

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t think this was magically going to change. He’s always been a prick. It’s just that the prickness has just reached an entirely new diabolical level in the last few years.

So, I get told yesterday in court, that even though my son is 18, they still want me to observe supervised visitation.  Called the place that does that,  to find out that they can’t do that for a kid over 18 any longer.  So, now at this point, it’s up to my son to grow some freaking balls and realise that his dad cannot hurt him if he comes home.  I can guarantee that if his dad even thinks about coming near here I will make sure it is the last thing that he ever does.  Do you hear me?  I am not afraid of you anymore!

It’s ridiculous the way that they’ve let Scott prance through the court abusing the system and making them his bitch.  He feels very big and powerful right now, I am sure.  I don’t believe that my son believes anything that he says.  I do believe that he’s scared to death of his dad and that Scott has scared him beyond belief.  I’m sure he threatened him with the only thing that he truly was afraid of, losing me.

Well, Scott, you’ve done your worst.  You took away the best time of Wee Geek’s pre-adult life from me and you’ve managed to alienate him in your little sea of lies and deceit.  I will not be surprised if you wake up staring at a gun some morning.  He will get you back for all you’ve done to him.  He will cut you out of his life, just like you cut your dad out of yours.  He will pretend you are dead, just like you pretend your dad is dead.  You will deserve it.  You are worse than the worst name that I can think of.  You are more foul and horrid than anything that walks this planet.  Only one name seems to suit you and that is your own. It’s the only one awful enough to describe you.

Wee Geek, please come home.  I love you and miss you. I’ve never given up on you.  I will not make you turn to foul pretend churches to get a little bit of safety. You will not need it at home.  You are 18.  No one can stop you from doing anything. Not even your dad.  He says he can. He lies to you about what the court says and I’m sure that he shows you fake orders.  But the reality is that he is a tiny little man that uses the court to abuse both of us.  Don’t continue to let him control your brain. I gave you that beautiful odd thinking brain and nurtured it into being the wonderful creative machine that it is so that assholes like him could not punish you for being yourself. 

That’s exactly what he’s done. Punish you for being yourself.  Our drummer is not bad just because he doesn’t like to play what the rest of the band plays.  He’s fantastically different.  That’s what it takes to make a difference in this world.  Purple shoes and purple hair and purple streaks of weird running blatantly through normality and proclaiming, “I’m here.  Now fucking deal.”

You can do this.  You can leave.  You can be your very own person without the chains he likes to tie you up in.  I did it. I know you can too.  I love you.

Wow! How to socialize in the new office and other nightmares

Okay, I’m still a little upset about this one, so it’ll stop feeling totally raw and unforgiving in about a year or so.

I knew that I was going to have trouble fitting in with this new office thing. I’m not good in offices.  Especially dealing with so many people at once. I never can strike that balance between too much interaction and not enough. Admittedly, a little bit of me goes a long way.  I try to save others from me.  I know it’s a lot to deal with me.  I am not exactly not affrontive most of the time.

I try to keep in mind Penelope Trunk’s hints for getting along in the office, but I am driven to be weird and it is difficult to not be weird.  And so….

People think that I should understand all of these dynamics and social staircases and mazes of etiquette. I look like I should.  Just know these things, I mean.  I look normal, don’t I?

But alas, it eludes me like always.  It’s always half way understanding and completely misinterpreting what is really happening with people and my interaction with them. The potential for making  social miscues and faux pas far exceeds my ability to either understand them or avoid making them at all.  And once again, by the time that I realise that I’ve even made the stupid gaff, I am on the outside. 

I’ve got this great reputation of something that I’m not now.  I hate navigating office politics.  So, now I have to figure out the rules that I need to invent to stay sane.

1) Stay in your cube .  You are supposed to be pretending to work, anyway, so it’s prolly best if you stay put and don’t leave.

2) Don’t interact with the humans. They prolly think you’re just going to throw feces with them.

3) Don’t talk about not work stuff.  This is always bad, although I’m not sure why.  However, it only seems to be bad when I do it, for some reason.  Other people can do it and it seems okay, but I can’t.  Weird.

4) Don’t do not work stuff.  This is another one of those weird things that is never okay when I do it, but is almost always okay if someone else does it.

5) Fit in.  Now I know this isn’t really going to ever happen for me.  I can be quirky and funny and charming in small doses, but then I must go back to my cube and see Rule #1.

6) Migrate away from the large herd and find a quiet patch of sunny grass close enough to be considered parallel play, but not close enough to do much more than just peripherally observe and chat.  This usually works out well, but better with alcohol.  Alcohol makes me seem so much more witty than I am.  And also seems to give me a filter.  Or maybe it’s an excuse for lack of  a filter, which is always much more acceptable than without the alcohol as an excuse.

7) Be socially acceptably quirky.  It’s okay to have a certain niche of quirkiness, but this can go to far. I never know when I’m over the top, but I find that just stopping at where I think is half is usually as much quirkiness as the outside world can stand in one sitting. 

8) Be good at one thing that no one else can do in the office. Or at least not as well.  This has almost always been my saving grace in office atmospheres. That I’m very tech-savvy and I’m not afraid to try things out on the computer.  It makes me pretty useful to have around sometimes.  It doesn’t always keep me in the mix, but it definitely does make me a little more valuable as a commodity in general.

Those are the ones that immediately come to mind.  I’ll probably come up with more as this experience progresses, scary as it is.  I’m taking big deep breaths and trying not to panic, but it does not work very well, sometimes.

Being an adult with Asperger’s is very confusing and very difficult to navigate most of the time.  I just keep chipping away at it and perhaps someday when I’m about 1000, I’ll be smart enough to put all the shit I’ve figured out together in one place to make the world a better place for the rest of the Aspies.


“I’ve been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they’re real
I’ve been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are
All I can feel” –The Cure

So, I’ve been reduced to stalker status.  I had to trip on my own son’s senior photos on the freaking internet. 

I keep looking at them, but it’s like looking at photos of some distant relative that looks exactly like you. You know that there’s a connection, but have no idea what it is at all.  I find that it makes me want to cocoon up inside and afraid to come out.  The Best Buy guy has asked me several times over the last couple of weeks if I am okay because I seem quiet and sad, but I am in that place of everything feeling too big again and I am afraid of  letting even a tiny fraction of it out for fear it will escape and eat me whole.

I keep looking for the Wee Geek that I know must be buried in there somewhere, but feel as if there are no answers in the two dimensions that I’m getting. It feels distant and weird.  I see me in the pictures and I see a boy who is struggling to be something more than he is allowed to be within his confines. Is that too much to read within a picture? Prolly.  I know the boy part of this man, but feel disconnected from the man part.  He’s only 18 and still being hugely manipulated in every aspect of his life. No man yet. At least not an independent one with his own thoughts and feelings and convictions. Will this all seem like some demented bad dream to him at some point?

I know this disconnected feeling comes from inside of me.  The way that I have to approach everything until it doesn’t hurt to touch it. This feels like it will never stop hurting.  It feels as it the hurt will always be fresh and never scabbed over by anything more substantial than a band-aid.

I waited so long for him to be 18, and it wasn’t that I thought everything would magically become different, but some little girl part of me that still wishes for things, wanted that to happen and the big, sardonic, and bitter girl was not disappointed when it did not.  She even smacked the little wishful girl a couple of times for thinking anything different.

Be brave, dear heart.  Hearts kick in sometimes when our brains do not want them to, right?