A Mother’s Humour and Other Ways to Delve Into Madness


It’s literally been a very odd week. It started with Mother’s Day. I, of course, wanted Wee Geek to go and pick up my mom and drive to Muncie and meet us at Outback for lunch. Which after all the court broo-haha on Friday prior to that would have been nice. However, my mom was in one of her moods that are so aspy, and yet, so completely odd to me. She decided that she didn’t want to go. I guess it was fine. Wee Geek told me to let it go and I did. So The Fix it Guy and I spent Mother’s Day eating lunch at Outback and then going to an auction which turned out to be completely great. I picked up a ton of nice vintage jewelry that I’m ever so much in love with.

I don’t pretend to understand why my mom has these moments, but when I look at it, I guess that occasionally, I do as well. So I shouldn’t be too hard on her. After all, we all need time to do our own thing and I would want her to accept that about me.

Another odd thing about Mother’s Day was that a dear friend’s mother died that day. I didn’t know this friend’s mother very well, I’ve only met her a few times, but I’m told that the irony in her dying this particular day is simply delicious. I’m glad that my friend is able to deal with the loss of his only surviving parent with this kind of humour. He, does, in general, try to face most trials in his life in this way and I suppose that this is prolly why we are friends. Because we both approach life’s tragedies and trials as if it is in reality some gargantuan joke that we just don’t know the punch line to. And we laugh anyway. If you can’t beat them, by god, join them.

I’ve been very interested in watching the dynamics of this family as they go through this difficult time, because as always, I am a keen observer of humans in general. (I may have to report back to the Big Giant Head at any moment…see http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0115082/?ref_=sr_1 if you have no idea what that refers to.) I hope that my friends don’t mind my observations. My friend is trying very hard to be the zen hippy dippy California guy and stay in the middle because his sister is a wreck and his brother is the guy who always orchestrates the duck line and makes sure that it is doing the right thing. So the only thing left for him to be is the guy in the middle who is even.

This process has been difficult to watch because it brings to mind the idea that our parents are getting older and their health is going to decline and they are going to need help. I am very aware that my mom doesn’t have anyone else to rely on that’s close except for me. This is hard and I often wish she would move closer to us so that I don’t have to worry so damn much.

So going through this week, trying to be considerate of my friend’s feelings, I have just been trying to anticipate what he might need and I’ve been trying to make sure that he knows that he has support or someone who accepts him and loves him for who he is. It is hard to know what to do in these situations, but especially hard when you live on the spectrum because you just never are quite sure what the protocol for social behavior is. Grieving times compound this because people do not react in uniform ways to grief. Very distressing for those of us who need some sort of species conformity in order to form rules for ourselves so that we don’t inadvertently perform some ritual that is going to cause Karma to visit us 4 times daily with extra healthy heapings of bad luck.  So, if all of you neurotypical people could just get together and figure out a uniform way to grieve, that would be very helpful, thank you.

I never know what to say. Thankfully, The Fix it Guy knows that you are supposed to say silly things like “I’m sorry for your loss”. I don’t even know how that is remotely comforting. I much prefer, “I am here for you to use however you need to so that you can get through this truly horrific moment in your life”. I would never even have guessed “I’m sorry for your loss” not even with cue cards.

So, I am still teaching blogging at this conference tomorrow and so have to miss the funeral. I always feel as if funerals should really truly be for people who were close to the dead person or family. I’m just sort of a random passerby who happens to know three of her four kids. I will be thinking of my friends tomorrow as they go down this path of their lives. It is with a truly heavy heart that I think of them.

In other news….I think I’ve figured out what the next phase in my life is. So now I have to hurry up and do all of the stuff that I said I would do while I was not working. Craft room will be completely moved this upcoming week as well as one zombie book edited. In the meantime, please enjoy these photos of my craftiness.

The first three doctors

The first three doctors

The Fourth Doctor

The Fourth Doctor

The Fifth Doctor

The Fifth Doctor

 

A belated blog post


I have been horribly negligent of the blog.  It’s mostly because we’ve had a lot going on and then we were on vacation for two weeks and then were bombarded again.

So to catch you all back  up to date, I had to go to court again at the end of May.  Of course it was the same old crap.  Although the judge did actually tell me that we were there to hear my side of the story.  No one listened, but we were there to hear it all. So this is the bits of pieces that I wrote while waiting and my commentary on the after effects of it all.  Next a mutant blog!

It’s so dementedly disturbing waiting outside court.  It’s a disorienting look at human nature and what it thinks is appropriate.  My ex always comes to court looking like he hasn’t bathed in 6 weeks.  He’s almost always wearing something that looks like he’s been sleeping in it for at least a week and that he’s slopped at least 2 meals down the front of it.

Two kids walk in wearing torn up jeans and t-shirts with inappropriate slogans.  They look like these clothes were their pajamas as well.  Some people wear what I presume are in Indiana standards, their good jeans.  The lawyers all look like slightly rumpled sharks and are fat and happy.  I always think that the picking must be good at the bottom of the sludgepile where they feed.  My ex’s lawyers are the fattest of all.  They have found a particularly good bit of sludge to eat from.  My ex is about 450 pounds, he’s probably the cream of the crop in sludge.

I always take deep breaths and try to keep my brain totally blank. There are so many awful social rules in court and I don’t understand any of them.  I wish someone would write a manual for autistic people who have to deal with the legal system.  Every subtle nuance-y rule seems like it’s amplified times 100 and the punishments for not following the rules seem so much more extreme.

I watch everyone carefully and concentrate hard on repressing my tics.  I’m sure that magnifies my stress level by somewhere close to a million.  I try very haard to not think of this as some kind of freak circus where the illusion is that my ex is a decent human being and therefore worthy of his words weighing more than mine.  But that is exactly what has happened though.  Unfortuneately for him, divorce court issued me x-ray vision and I now can see every lie for exactly what it is.  Of course, for some reason everyone else in this seems to have been issued rose coloured blinders.  For some reason these blinders make him look like some kind of upstanding guy when he’s really a small little man who hides behind facades.  How crafty he is to have learned such important lessons from his father.  Isolate the people you abuse and jump on a church bandwagon.

In all of this, I muse if the Bible banger that figured out the exact date for the Apocalypse could have made a gross miscalculaation of 24 hours?

The zoo in the waiting area has increased.  The mood has escalated and you can feel the anger and the mistrust and the evilness jusst seeping into the air.  It’s a noxious pool of toxic waste. It’s everything I can do to stop myself from throwing up.  This air is not good for autistic people who are barometers of human emotion.

It amazes me how unsafe I always feel in this place.  I know that it’s mostly because coming to court and having to be with my ex makes me remember every strike and every awful word that he ever said.  It makes me have to deal with emotions that I very successfully repress in my real life.  I know that it’s also because I am so stressed and I know that my brain does not function well under stress.  It doesn’t really function at all.  It tries to wrap me up in a little cocoon and protect me.

I know that they’ve done tons of research on Asperger’s and everything is carefully calculated to knock me off kilter.  I spend all of my energy just holding myself together.  There isn’t anything left over.  The other part of all of this is the unfairness of every decision. The judge threatens to throw me in jail every time I turn around.

I thought that once my son was 18 that all of this would be over.  But it’s not.  I always try to keep it in the back of my mind that my ex has some overwhelming feelings to want to hurt me so badly.  I don’t care and I am left sitting here an empty shell with no feelings or anything.  I don’t even care enough to hate him anymore.

It feel so poisonous in court that I can hardly breathe.

In the end, my ex’s lawyers tried to make it look as if I’m an idiot and that my appeal was a childish effort to strike out at my ex for taking my son away.  If only my motivation had been so simple.  In the end, they’ve decided that I’m going to fork out another $7000 in lawyer fees.  Seriously?  I must be sitting on a winning lottery ticket that I don’t know about.  It’s insane.  Where is all this money supposed to come from?

In the end, I am still in the same place.  I have no idea if my son is even actually alive, at this point I have doubts.  I have no idea what his mental state is, although, I am guessing fragile and fragmented at the very best.  I try to not think about it because frankly that well of depression just seems way too deep.

I can’t understand how the judge does not understand how his actions have tempered the course of events.  It’s frightening to me that he has gotten away with calling me retarded and telling me that I’m unfit as a human.  I realise that part of this is because my ex’s lawyers have done their research and understand how to hit me the hardest.

In the end, the judgement makes no difference.  There is no money for them to have.  There is nothing left for them to take that is imp0rtant to me.  All other relationships in my life are coloured by these court interactions.  All other measurements of trust are held up against these interactions.  All other measurements for safety are held up against this.  It’s just the way that it is.

I have no faith in the legal system.  I have no trust in it or in the officers that it employs.  I have no faith that the system will take care of those who cannot take care of themselves, because the system is there to hurt and belittle and step on you.  Don’t ever believe anything different.  My goodness these evil people have made me cynical!

Nothing has changed.

The vacation has made the next step very clear.
Watch out living entity of evil, I’m coming back for more.