Once Upon an Autism, Not Your Regular Fairy Tale

Thanksgiving Approaches

Posted on: November 23, 2010

I’m moody. I know I have a lot to be thankful for this year, but life seems heavy on the shoulders, maybe it’s because I lost so many months in the oblivion of the nursing home and the hospital. Maybe it’s because I’ve had too much time to think.

I read an article that said China might have possibly fired a shot from a sub at the States. And I just feel sick. Our own country is being turned inside out because of the government. There is no quick fix. I mean, we can’t even get along amongst ourselves in different groups online when it comes to hot topics. United we stand, Divided we fall. And the United States of America is divided.

And why? Because people are turning their backs on God. People are delving into the drudges and cesspools of their own selves. They care more about money, power, sex, drugs, whatever. There is no love where there should be. The love of God, simply the love of one another. It’s going away.

As someone who suffers PTSD, Depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, Social Anxiety, and Social Phobia, and I forget what else, maybe I shouldn’t focus on the negativity. And I shouldn’t. But it does get to me, these things do bother me. Anything that I have no control over bothers me. I like to fix things, I like to make things right, and when I can’t, it bothers me. Maybe I’m still a little down from being sick, and in pain, but I’m allowed to be bothered, aren’t I? I’m not suicidal or anything like that. I’m not going to go on some crazy rampage or anything.

I guess that’s why I’m blogging again. To vent, to rant, and get it out. No matter how silly, petty or whatever. I’m done with therapists, I’d just rather see the psychiatrist, get my meds, and go home. I’ve seen enough doctors and shrinks that I think I could earn some kind of PHD. myself. I know about surgeries, I’ve had 21 of them. I know about medicine, I know a great deal about mental disorders.

I wasn’t born damaged.

Even with a mean, abusive father, abusive brothers and getting picked on in school, I stayed pretty happy. I was happy when my parents divorced. But then came my Mom’s ex-fiance. That bastard tried to break me, and he nearly did, but then, I had my car accident. My blessing and my curse. Before the car accident, I was quite docile, very eager to please, but I didn’t have a great deal of backbone. But after the accident, my whole personality changed. I became a survivor. I can’t say I liked who I was back then, because to survive there, I became hard on the outside, except to Mom. I love my mother with all my heart. And anything bad that’s ever been bad between us, is long since died, always forgiven, for she is the one person in the world I’ve always had the easiest time forgiving because I love her so much.

I have to say that it’s the same with my Aunt Susy, now, too. The three of us have become very close. There I go, off on another tangent again, but see, I cheered up because Mom stopped in, and maybe that’s why I had the blue’s. We’ve had SNOW for the past several days, it’s been too cold to get anywhere, so I haven’t seen her. I haven’t seen much of anyone except Nicky and the neighbor.

Despite my Social Phobia, I do like people… Again. There was a time, back in 94-95, when I was at my peak. And if I could be that woman again, if I could obtain that state of mind again, I would be happy. I was a social butterfly, I was a perpetual optimist. I was so darn happy, and I was happy because I was. Does that make sense? I was down with an awful something flu for 4 months, off and on where I’d suddenly vomit for no reason, in the morning. Then, I’d be fine. Then a few days later, I’d have another spell, it was awful. But even through all that, I was cheerful.

My downfalls were my relationships with men. Abusers and rapists. I made bad choices. I know now, that it’s not my fault, though, I still wish I hadn’t placed myself around those people, I did nothing wrong. I never asked to be hit. I never screamed and raged or did anything to provoke the abuse I received. That’s not me.

The worst relationship, but best relationship was with Todd. I loved Todd, I think a small part of me always will. He had the most beautiful dark brown eyes. He was so smooth, he had a gorgeous voice, he looked sexy with a cigarette, and by golly, he gave the best kisses in the world. I’d been kissed before, but his kisses were like those that I read in my historical romance novels. I mean, pure passion. But, I was 17, he was 24. I was ready for a commitment because I always knew what I wanted, but he was still sowing his wild oats. I remember when things got hot and heavy and I told him I was a virgin. It was like I dumped a bucket of ice cold water on him.

I almost said “yes”. I actually did say. “yes” on his birthday, but he kissed me and turned me down. It hurt because part of me wanted to do it to keep him, I was young and in love.

We ended up breaking up, I dumped him. I called him the “Poor little rich boy” because he always got what he wanted. It killed me, but knowing that he didn’t want a deeper commitment, I didn’t want to stay with him either. I didn’t want to be some girl he’d come into town and fool around with and then go back to Bemidji.

Then, there was Deke. My shame. My friend. My revenge. My fun. My one dirty secret. Deke worked with Todd. They weren’t the best of friends, but I got along with Deke quite well, he was even older than Todd. He had this thick, black, curly hair, that was turning a premature gray. And he had these fascinating green eyes, and, he was married.

He had two sons, one was a step-son, one was his son with his wife Debbie. His marriage was hellish, I found out that he and his wife had an open marriage. I was told this when Deke asked me to babysit one night after Todd and I broke up. I agreed, I needed money and he would pay me, plus buy me a carton of cigarettes because I was underage. Besides, I thought Deke was a nice guy.

The little boy Eric was as sweet as you please. But the step son was a little pervert. And he talked about how his Mom would have another man in bed with her when she and Deke would fight. Then Deke would leave, and then she’d tried to stab him with her insulin needles, etc. She sounded like one crazy woman.

When Deke was driving me home, we decided to go cruising, that was the thing to do then, and we parked near the cemetery. Now, I’m not a wiccan priestess or a Satan worshipper or anything crazy like that. The cemetery we have in town is probably one of the prettiest you’ll ever see. It’s a peaceful place for me. I hung out there as a child. I visited my dead brother’s grave, my great grandmother’s, and my grandpa’s, when I was younger, then my gramma’s when I was older. Anyway, we were parked and I asked Deke about his wife.

He told me it was all true. So I asked him why he stayed with her. It was for his son. Darn stupid, if you ask me. Stay married for the kids and be miserable. It’s better to come forth and break it off.

Well, I was vulnerable after losing Todd and found out that Deke was a good kisser as well. I flitted around with Deke off and on for the next couple years in hopes of getting Todd. It never happened. But I did have fun with him. We never had sex, it came close, but he respected my wishes when I told him I was holding out for marriage. Even when he was all hot and bothered, he respected my “No” and well, I helped him be more comfortable while keeping my “honor”.

I need to end for now…. To Be Continued….

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