Catching Up

I miss when things used to be simple--when I would come home from school as a little kid, knowing that there would always be a bowl of chicken noodle soup waiting for me (yes, EVERY day). I miss knowing where I was headed in life, and I miss that feeling of invincibility. I miss believing that nothing could stand in my way.

Tonight, I feel a kind of miserable I don't quite understand. I know I am not reacting like I am used to when I am devastated. I'm being calm, and I am able to do other things, and I am not an emotional wreck. Somehow, I am in control, and it doesn't feel normal for me. I'm not complaining. This is just new territory for me. 

The final rejection letter came from Pitt's School of Education. So now I feel like I have to start all over. I feel lost, hopeless, useless, aimless, etc. And I'm tired of it, really. I do not want to be an endless wanderer. I want a home. I want a life. And I want a purpose. Or some idea of what mine should be. I know what I want to do, but what if I never get the chance now? What else can I do? I don't know any of the answers yet. And while that is tearing me apart inside, I am somehow still okay. Still doing what needs to be done, helping where I am needed, and trying to better myself and my circumstances regardless of the pain. 

But if Friday hadn't happened, I probably would have had a much worse time with that news. Last week was beyond stressful. Illness, not sleeping two nights of the week, having to spend the majority of one in a parking lot with my mother, routine changes, overwhelming days at work, late night pageant preparation, phone calls, late paperwork and write-ups, worries about moving and school and jobs, a shutdown situation,and the thought of seeing my brother for the first time in four and a half years...plus the usual things. A seven day battle to keep my head above water. 

And I lost on Friday morning, during a supervision meeting. Everyone knew something was up. I could tell by the way that everything began to get louder and more intense--by the way I just kept focused on the pattern in the carpet and by how I twitched and had to fight not to scream and fall out of my chair--that it was coming, and there was no turning back.

So I wrote a note to my BSC, who was sitting right next to me once I realized this: "I am very, very close to having a meltdown, and I don't know what to do." 

I was able to at least sit through the rest of the relatively short meeting, and I suppose it was convenient that I work in an office full of therapists. The main boss came to help. It took about 45 minutes after he came in for me to fully calm down, but I talked a lot after the first 20 minutes. Needless to say, I didn't make it to work that day. But no one seemed to mind. Now I am waiting on a call for actual therapy sessions paid for by work, which I think have been long overdue. 

I don't think I would have been able to handle the news had I not come that close to exploding. I needed a fresh start, and as shitty as it was to experience and have others witness, I needed it. I knew it was coming, just not when. 

So I made it a point to arrive to work early, and I came out to the teacher. Not as gay. Not as trans. As an autistic person working with autistic children. And the twenty minute conversation that ensued was also something that I needed. I wonder why it is so much harder for me to come out about this than anything else. And, yes, it really is a coming out process. It changes how people perceive and treat you. 

I still don't have too many words about my visit with my brother. I am not sure what to say yet because I am not sure of those emotions yet.

Jumping back to today, I've been fighting the feeling I always get when big things are coming up: I always want to quit everything and drop off the face of the earth. I end up asking myself why I am doing any of it at all. But I usually get my answer after it's all over. 

I still have so many fears. But I have a different answer to how I think things will play out. I may not always believe it, but it wasn't an idea I was willing to entertain this time last year: that I'm going to be okay, even if bad things continue to happen. 

Also, yesterday was my four-year T anniversary. Two people remembered without my saying, and I am okay with how quiet I was about it this time around. Maybe next time I will celebrate in some way, but for some reason, I feel that this was the way things needed to be done this year. 

I can survive this week because I've already made it this far . 

Wine Drunk

I've had about six very large glasses of wine this evening, in addition to the beer, of course. I also happened to have a brief yet intimate trans-related conversation with a room full of fairly straight/heteronormative people tonight. Along with all of this, I've been thinking about the Asperger's blog I've started following. And since I'm drunk, I'm probably more inclined to write about that particular part of my life. It's funny how that is more uncomfortable for me to discuss than being trans. I think this is because I came from a subculture that more easily understood transgender issues than autism issues. I do very well at "hiding" my differences. So most people don't think there is anything wrong with me, to use their words. To use my own...I don't think there is either. But there are just some things I cannot do. I have my limits, and I have learned more about them in the last five or six years (since my first "official" yet second actual diagnosis). But that can be good and bad.

When I used to have meltdowns as a child and then a teenager, I never knew why. It felt like they just happened out of nowhere. The remedies were always lying down in the car, letting the motion calm me and chugging water till I was about to explode. My mom would hold me and get me away from what was happening if she were around. If not, I would just freeze. I would not speak. I would not move a muscle. I felt like I was watching everything happen to me, and no matter what I could tell myself to say or do, my body would not listen to my head. It just couldn't. It was then that all sights, sounds, and physical sensations started to become so intense that I could not tolerate them. I wanted to explode out of my body, and I would try to squeeze myself as tightly into myself as possibly because it felt like every molecule of my physical being was being pulled in a different direction.

My whole childhood consisted of this and of not knowing how to talk to people at all. I could talk to family members and maybe find one kid who would tolerate my seemingly incessant monologues, but I just didn't associate much with other children. I didn't really have a friend that I could truly relate to until I was thirteen or fourteen. And I screwed up those relationships horribly. This continued throughout high school and my first year or two of college. I just didn't understand why I always had to feel so disconnected from the rest of the world. I didn't get why I couldn't just learn the way other people did or see things the way they did. Why were things so easy for them? Why did I always get lost when more than one person was involved in a conversation?

The first time I heard the diagnosis was in high school. But I rejected it, thinking that it couldn't possibly fit me. I only knew of severe cases of autism, and for some reason my therapist just went with whatever I said, and she said I had panic disorder. So I was heavily drugged, and I really didn't show much improvement. And I remained mostly alone until my nephew was diagnosed with Asperger's around age two or three. I revisited the idea.

Suddenly things made sense. Aware of my situation, I was able to piece together how I had learned to cope in a neurotypical world. I thought that everyone had to learn the way I did. It didn't hit me that my view of the world was so fundamentally different from that of most people until maybe five years ago. College was a very serious game of catch up for me. But I was funny, and my acting ability got me through a lot of situations. I could pretend to be normal. I could pretend to understand what was going on. I could just fake it until I made it.

But it's so hard to do that. And I guess what I want to convey is that most people don't understand what it is like to have to deal with that almost every minute of every day. Let's just say you are bad at test taking. Imagine a near-24-hour rendition of the SAT or MCAT or whatever...every day of your life. You can do it, of course. But you're slower than other people. You don't intuitively understand it, but you have learned enough about it through practice. You may even like the subjects you're being tested upon. But at the end of the day, you just want it to be over so you can recover. You need time for your brain to rest. People do to my brain what games of chess and logic puzzles do to the brains of others. It's not that I am not interested in being a social person. I am very much interested, and I am now extraordinarily aware of how much I desire companionship. But it's hard. And I need a break.

A lot of this is for my new friends. And I wish I weren't bombed while writing this because I'll probably miss a few important things. When I am okay, you might not know that I'm that much different. But when the bucket is full and I can't quite take anymore, I lose every coping strategy I've ever learned. I become a non-functional human being. And people are scared of this. I try to run away from everyone when I know this is about to happen because I'm afraid of letting people see me get this way. I don't want to be judged, and I don't want people to believe that I can't manage my own life, even if I feel that same way at times. I am so afraid of people seeing this version of me that I am super polite around everyone. I laugh at almost any joke. I sometimes have to fill in gaps with jokes or think heavily about what's going on in a conversation. I've learned to be pretty quick with this. I'm fortunate that I'm as smart as I am. I'd never get away with this otherwise. But sometimes, that's the problem. I take in way too much information for my brain to handle at any one time. And then all the lights on the switchboard are on at the same time, and I just crash.

So I'm drunk. I can see less of the picture this way. But I also am less inhibited, obviously. I say exactly what is coming to my mind as it comes--the parts that can be translated into words at least. Weed is much better at making me "less autistic". I'm not sure it works that way for everyone.

I don't even know why I'm writing this. I'm just tired of having to keep up pretenses all the time. I almost cried the other day because I think my parents are starting to finally acknowledge this fact about me. My brain is different. Sometimes I just need to be left alone. Sometimes, I need to be talked to in a certain way. My mother is learning to avoid styles of conversation that make me more and more anxious or overload me. She told me to not go to this new job if it was going to put that much stress on my mind and body. And she has never done that with anything before. I wanted to cry. But at the same time, it made me want to be able to push through or at least make the effort because someone was making that kind of effort for me.

Yes. Sometimes I am terrified to admit that I don't understand things, especially things that other people seem to get instantaneously. I wish I could also explain my relationship with touch, but that's challenging. If I am not comfortable with you on the deepest level, I cannot be touched by you for any extended period of time. I get ridiculously uncomfortable in situations that involve hugs, complex handshakes, even sitting next to people touching me. It makes my skin crawl. I start to develop blinders and hide inside of myself. But I'm trying so hard to open up to the people who care about me. And it's even hard to believe that people here do care. I always get scared that if people really knew me, they'd never like me. It seems to always work that way. Or they just realize I'm not worth it.

Tonight was a huge step forward in a lot of ways. I still always ask. But I am getting more comfortable being touched. And it felt comforting in a way. Maybe I was able to lift even the tiniest amount of weight off my chest. But I still felt a difference. But it was unusual for me, so it scared me. And then I knew I needed to come home. I was going to just sleep there, but too much change in one night can mess with me, and after a weekend of hiding from the world and wishing I could hide from myself, I knew I couldn't take it. Learning my own limits is the most difficult part of this journey.

I don't know what the point of my writing this was, and I doubt I will remember much of this tomorrow. I just wish it were easier to talk about for me. I wish I weren't so ashamed of talking about why I switched to front lanes. I wish I could bring up that I would probably be alright going back on the floor now that the environment is not so new to me. But I have such a difficult time starting, ending, and even sometimes maintaining conversations. That's when I turn on actor mode. I have to place myself in a role. I have to define the character. You get used to that after a while, and then you realize that you start doing it when you don't have to. And that overloads you as well.

Tastes, certain types of touch, certain sounds, certain things that people say.

I FUCKING HATE WHEN PEOPLE COMMENT ABOUT MY SIZE TO SUGGEST THAT SOMEONE MY SIZE IS EASILY OVERTAKEN IN A PHYSICAL SENSE. HATE IT. IT LITERALLY MAKES ME WANT TO HIT PEOPLE RIGHT THEN AND THERE. YOU HAVE NO IDEA. SIZE MEANS VERY LITTLE WHEN YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING. THAT IS ALL.

Sorry. But I get pretty ticked off at out-of-shape people who think they can take me. People who've never fought, run, or worked out a day in their lives. It is worse than people making small penis jokes, which have actually become funny to me in recent days. I feel that people making comments like that about me is equivalent to making comments about the weakness of women because they are women. The weakness of small people because they are small. You don't know what people are capable of by looking at them. I've seen 300 pound drag queens that can jump nearly three feet in the air in heels and break dance and do splits, etc. Bodies can and will surprise you. This is one of the few things I actually still take personally. I am trying not to. But fuck you if you're going to try to make me feel inferior.

I realize that I've been writing for about forty minutes now. This is going to be fun tomorrow. But I rarely write when I'm drunk, so it will at least be entertaining.

Shifting gears again...
I read a few of those blog posts last night. About face blindness, reading comprehension, pain tolerance, etc. All of them seem like they could have been written by me. I identify with so much of what this person says. I cried once because I felt like I had found someone who understands. I only have had one other very good friend diagnosed with Asperger's, and that was when I was in high school. I really need to give him a call sometime. He also came out not too long ago. Surprise, surprise.

Crushes on straight people are hard. I don't know how to deal with it. I want to ask her. But I'm terrified. I don't want to deal with that sort of rejection. I've dealt with it from gay men before, but our conversations were just about one night stands and things like that. But...fuck. This is new territory for me.

I legitimately forgot what I wanted to talk about. Oh yeah.
I know what my first tattoo will be. I just need to find the perfect spot. I know because it is the one thing I have kept coming back to through every difficult part of my life.
NOTHING WORTH HAVING IS EVER EASY.
And those are the colors I want.
This will happen before I leave the valley.
I wish you could be here for that.

Also, damn, now that I have more piercings, I feel like I want even more. Welcome to that rebellious phase that everyone already went through ten years ago.

I'm getting excited about my future again. It comes in cycles. But this time, I feel more confident. I know it's going to be okay no matter what I do, but I need to DO SOMETHING.

Ummm also...please buy election shirts from me. They are awesome. yay.

New job in about six or seven hours. New people. New job isn't scary. New people = very scary. My brain starts to go in so many places that words don't happen anymore. This is why things are very fragmented near the end.

Another thing. I am literally ALWAYS anxious. I wake up, and I am terrified of the day, and I go to sleep this way. It is a constant fight against this, against confusion, against overstimulation, against managing more than one emotion at a time, and against navigating a social world.

Thanks to everyone. And I hope I don't scare you away too.

I'm probably going to regret this soon.

Newsflash

I am an awkward hugger. Hugging most people makes me uncomfortable. How I know that I really love someone--I can feel it in the hug. Those are the ones I wish would never end. It's so rare that I can find someone with whom I can share that much. If you can make me feel that comfortable, chances are you've got a shot. But good luck because the list is pretty short.
On Sunday, I just didn't want to let go. I wasn't sure until that very moment. But now I know that I really did and really do love him, in spite of everything. And once again, it's too late.
It never gets any easier to deal with this kind of pain.

Nerd Time

Two thoughts went through my head today, and they made me realize how strange I am, but I love it. (1) There must be or have been a lot of research involved in determining the perfect size for a can of soda or similar containers because of the average size of the human hand. I thought this because I have smaller hands and prefer Red Bull cans and the new 7.5 ounce soda cans, even though I sometimes drink two. (2) Cold activates the sympathetic nervous system, and we know that people with Asperger's have nervous systems that might be a bit different, and maybe mine is hypersensitive, which means that I get stressed out more easily and would react more strongly to cold. (Cold water agitates me and when it hits me in the face I literally have to hold back from screaming). P.S. I feel so good right now because my new job allows me to think and use the skills I have honed throughout my life.
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I'm taking a break from my work to write a little about it. It's making me rethink a lot about what I want to do with my life, and it's taking me back to an earlier time when I had similar passions. I love to write. Working on these articles doesn't even feel like work most of the time. Working on this "Brain Basics" guide will be even more fun because I get to use the creative explanations I've developed and teach them to a large audience.
I'm in a good mood about this because I'm doing something that I feel gives me a purpose. It is meaningful to me. And this is so very well connected with the whole philosophy of moodtraining. You should check it out if you haven't already. I'm glad I found this place and these people because I have harbored the same philosophy throughout my life, and when I desired a career as a physician, that was exactly the type of philosophy I wanted to use in my practice.
I'm sure there are other things that go along with it, and everything comes back to the brain for me. It's nice not to be forced to interact with people if I am not up for it. It's nice to be able to work in a familiar and comfortable environment. There is instant gratification because of the time frame involved in producing a single article or review, which will activate the reward system. This is one of the reasons why I think artists, contract workers, and other people who work in fields where they complete small to moderate tasks find their work more rewarding and pleasant than those who endure monotonous and seemingly endless careers.
You see, it's the stuff I can't stop thinking about--the why's and how's of everything I experience and everyone I meet. I am a glutton for knowledge, but it's productive since I love sharing that knowledge.
It's tough to describe how awesome I feel right here, right now, and though that is transient, this writing is at least semi-permanent for me and for a few others. It is a reminder that I have felt like this before, just as the other pieces of writing I have posted here serve as reminders, and that I will undoubtedly feel like this again.
I want to have this written down just in case I forget that I am worth it. I want to have it just in case I ever again think that I am stupid, useless, or incapable of accomplishing anything. So, Dylan, don't you ever forget that you're so much more. Don't forget that you're a great person, not just because of your intelligence, but because you have the ability to be kind, compassionate, helpful, and so much more than you know at this very moment.

Just a little letter to myself.

I think this is what those other folks call progress.

Saturday into Sunday

It's silent again, or maybe that's me. I take it all in and let the sound of the cars pull me back from the blur the room became without you here. The web unfolds and I think of the days I can't count from now--like the one when I learn to drive and can look out of the corner of my eye and see you by my side with your hair spiked up and your smile pointed at me. I think of the we that comes from you and me. Yet it's radial, and I know somewhere there's a thought caught up in these gossamer strands, struggling to break free and screaming as my mind crawls closer and closer. And closer I come to see that something I want may never be. A little something maybe someone like me. But around the web I go again, and I see a different universe that seems more complete. I see them all the time and feel what it's like to be in every one of them, and right now I'm going through something that makes me want to run away from this one and live in the other where I know that I've run through that smoke with sticks in my hands and my brother in the . If I pull enough pieces of all these times and places together, maybe I can create the perfect universe. I can create the perfect self, and the one that would have been there with you tonight--the one that could be there on all those future Saturday nights with friends. Instead I'm here and wishing I knew how to be someone else or maybe just a more social me. And sometimes I wonder if that's really what's wrong. Maybe that's why I like to perform. I get to be around a lot of people yet still be separate from them--a wall of ability and aspect that keeps the crowd from closing in on me. I have to stand apart because I'd lose myself in everyone else. But I know that doesn't have to be. I've been one of the others before. I know what it's like to not feel like this--to not feel like every social situation could end in disaster with my soul lying lifeless on the floor. And I'm not sure that it's been infrequent other than recently that I've been that kind of person. I was growing into being alright, but then something happened to shoot my confidence in the foot, and now I'm trying to limp back to where I was. And all the while it feels like everyone else is running full speed ahead. I keep wondering if I'm getting worse. I don't remember having this much trouble last year, but maybe that's because I'm finally getting out and doing things. I'm finally opening up to friends and letting the walls crumble. People are starting to see who I really am, and maybe that's a little scary. What's also scary is that there are people who think they see who I am. Believe me when I say that I really want them to know and that I really want to know them. It seems like we've been trying for years now, and it may never work out, and I may forever be a stranger to people so seemingly close to me, but I'm not the type of person to give up on anyone. And for those of you who may be wondering, that includes myself. I don't know when I shifted to talking to more than one person. I didn't even notice the shift in writing style. I guess it doesn't matter. I feel like I'm all over the place tonight in more ways than one, and I almost ruined the evening several times over. I finally decided that the best way for me to not fuck it up was to stay home alone. I think it was the right call. I may feel a little strange right now, and maybe it was only right to night, but I don't know what would have happened had I gone with you/them. I'm scared of becoming something you don't want me to be, and I hate making you feel like you have to be something you're not. I really worry about how much more of me you can take. I don't want to stop writing because that means I have to live with the silence in this room until I can get my brain to give me some peace. You have no idea how hard it is for me to fall asleep unless I am absolutely exhausted. Even then, I have trouble turning off this fucking head of mine. I've learned to tune out the rest of the world quite well, but sometimes I get lost inside my own head, and I haven't figured out all the ways out yet. I just want to be able to function like a normal human being 100 percent of the time. I'm so scared that shit like this is going to keep me from being able to do what I want to do with the rest of my life. There are people outside of my window right now. Too many of them were talking at once, and the noise just filled up my head like water in a balloon that's already been stretched way too much. Nails on a chalkboard and that dizzy feeling you get when you first stand up after a night of really heavy drinking. All in an instant. It doesn't happen all the time, but tonight is one of those nights, I guess. I guess I made the right call. I want to know how to stop myself from shutting out the rest of the world. I don't want to be the one sitting in a corner staring blankly because that's the safest thing for my brain to do. I feel like it's happening way more often than it used to, and I'm really not okay with that. I wish someone could help me with this, but I feel like there is no way I can make anyone understand what's happening with me. Even I don't fully understand it, and that particularly frustrates me. I have this obsession with knowing/understanding people and things. I try to know as much as I can because I feel like that reduces the number of situations where I will be caught completely off guard, thereby reducing the number of times I completely lose touch with reality. There was such a long period of time when this didn't happen. And I really don't remember when it started or how it came to an end. But I know that it's possible. I know that I can be okay.