Archive for March 25th, 2011

I just got off the phone with my mother.  Yes, the one who I owe great thanks to for at least my Bipolar, and god knows what else.  Ah, I owe her thanks, as well, for being progeny of all the others.  I owe thanks to them as well–for at least my Bipolar and everything else.

My, my! We are getting to be quite the two pals, these days! Nothing like trying to take your own life to bring you closer to your own mentally ill mommy. I know.  That’s not funny, but it’s fact.

The bombshell? Oh, it was nothing much she said, as we shifted the conversation from my groceries.   Did I still need sour cream? What type of Miss Vicki’s Potato Chips would I prefer?

She was sexually abused by her pediatrician when she was a tiny girl.


I was pretty quiet about it on the phone.  I think that might be understandable? I mean, what the fuck do you say to one of your Parental Units that has traumatized the hell out of you, when they tell you of their own trauma?

It’s not so much in the details (which she told me all about), either.  I can handle hearing intimate details from any person regarding what they went through.

But this is all a bit much.  Like Roller Coaster, Twisty-Tangly, Family Traumarama! I can’t really think too much about this at the moment, yet my brain is already in the line up at the amusement park! Oh, yes! I think as soon as she started to tell me, it was already racing all over, trying to recover any shred of my childhood from my near empty databank.

Speaking of brains, there actually is a bit of limited processing power for this information, right now.  I can’t be sure but I think something is happening with the Typical Absence Status Epilepticus and my TBI.  Chicken? Egg?

I seem to be healing along well as far as the TBI goes.  However, there’s a bit of stuff going on.  Some of it looks like the old TBI issues, some of it looks like the TASE, some are the same.  Extended absense seizures messing with a brain that’s not quite healed? I felt fine yesterday.

Chicken.  Egg.

Kind of like all of that trauma up there.

Chicken.  Egg.

I was thinking of writing this post today, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it.  Just “wing it,” (or as we writers call it “free flow?”)  However, some things came up regarding “change” so that gave me impetus.

I got a new haircut yesterday.  I put up a new Twitter avatar today.  Sure, big deal(s), right? Well, maybe a bigger deal was someone responding to an older post on my blog.  Someone else did recently, as well.  I wrote in one comment, I loved coming back to my older posts (at least for one reason), to see if, and how much, I had changed.  Also, it’s just plain, old fun.

This time? I don’t know if you could say it wasn’t fun.  Wistful? I’m also not talking about how I felt in terms of myself and the post’s content, either.  No, I’m talking about how long ago it was written, looking at the commenters, and what they had written, how much was going on with them those few years ago.  So, I guess a bit of “real life,” time snuck in there.

Moving to this new flat (provided I do get it–it’s not confirmed yet!) will be really hard on me in at least one area of change.  Asperger’s! And possibly my ADD to a lesser degree.

Some people on the Spectrum tend not to deal with change very well. *hangs sign over neck with arrow pointing upwards*  Two reasons for this are a strong desire for sameness (i.e. extreme familiarity with all things), and ritualistic (or “ritualistic-like”), behaviour.  Both can vary from person to person.  The ritualistic part can take on many forms and be very extreme.  Just to give you a small example, here’s one of mine:

When I wear a certain watch, every time I put it on, I have to count the remaining holes in the band once it’s around my wrist.  It doesn’t matter if I know it’s on right.  It’s not too loose or too tight.  I cannot wear that watch at all unless I do this.  I’ve even kept people waiting to go out with me when it happens!

“…umm…just a sec’…I’ll be there in a…”  So, imagine something as tiny as that, and blow it up how much larger?! Then, imagine moving to a new flat!

Sure, your possessions are still with you, but they’re not “with you.” They’re all somewhere else! Scattered around! It’s like you’re lost without a map and a compass, stumbling around, trying to find who you used to be! But then it gets even worse.  What about the possessions that aren’t yours?

New stoves, new refrigerators, new bathrooms, new cupboards, new…  It already took you so long to get used to the stuff that was “the other,” before.  Now, you’ve got to deal with THAT all over again.  You have to find your “you” in that completely, foreign land.  And it will be completely foreign!

I remember when I moved to this flat four years ago, I was a total stim-fest, eyes teeming, just as the guys were loading the truck! Ex-partner just tried to calm me, and said I could do all the crying I wanted as soon as I got there.  I pulled it together but that may give you an idea, as well.

I predict the same.  I’ll be one, big, Aspie-Spaz-Out, Disaster! I’m just taking a moment to pause now and look around.  I think I may be one, big, Aspie-Spaz-Out, Disaster prior to moving! I’ll blame that one (un)fair and square on my ADD, and my unbelievable, imbecilic, organizational skills–or lack thereof.

I know change happens.  I can’t stop it.  I’m not some omniscient deity that can simply hold up her hand to motion: “Halt! Go no further! In fact, turn around.  You have tried to make a change.  That is NOT allowed!

Look at the world.  Stupid statement of the day, but we wouldn’t be here if things remained static.  I guess I’d like my life to stay static? Well, that’s kind of stupid, too, I guess.  What would I be? Some sort of living statue in this world? A wee PA made of marble, where I could let everything in my life, merely rest carved in stone? Just like me? I don’t think that’s very realistic–as tempting and desirable as it sounds.

Although, speaking of tempting and desirable, I could become a vampire.  That would afford me a certain degree of omniscience to challenge the “Change Makers.” *wry Aspie grin*