Limitations

Posted on by Realistic Autistic

I’ve been thinking about the nature of our interactions with each other.

You see, as we meet and learn about people, we determine for ourselves what kind of person they are. We take what we know of the world and people in general, and apply it to what we see of a person’s actions and words. We develop a story for ourselves about that person.

That story is inevitably wrong. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. Our perceptions and biases warp our judgments. And it’s not possible to entirely understand a person. People are always changing, and act differently in different circumstances based on their own perceptions and history.

That impossibility hasn’t stopped me from trying to fully understand people, but as I’ve aged I’ve come to see I can never truly do it. Like fundamental truths of the universe and life itself, it’s complicated beyond my ability to comprehend.

I know that. And the temptation, in knowing that, is to stop trying. But I can’t. I won’t. Truth is my highest ideal. And in the seeking of truth, I get closer to it, understanding more and more.

Today I feel like I’ve reached a milestone. I realized this morning, based on how people have been dealing with the new supervisors and old ones, that the stories we tell ourselves about us and about others fundamentally limits their potential.

The way we treat people, based on those stories, can limit a person. If, for example, you have supervisor that acts like a bully, a petty human being, and a general pain in the ass, you may come to see him as merely those things.

In truth, he does those things… but not all the time. He is a different person when he’s in a good mood, perhaps a different person to his equals and superiors, and probably a different person at home.

It may be pretty reasonable to expect him to always be a misery to work under… but in doing so you limit his ability to change or be any different.

This was more obvious to me in the treatment of the new supervisors. They seem to be trying to treat us like people with opinions that matter instead of inmates to be herded, which I mightily appreciated. But not everyone seems willing to give them that chance to do better.

Which limits their ability to do better. Enough limitations, and their attempts and intentions won’t matter, and the cycle will repeat itself. I really don’t want that.

It broke my heart, this morning, thinking about how much we limit those around us with our expectations and our judgments. How much we limit ourselves…

In 20 some days I’m going to New Mexico to meet Koopz and Más. Over time, I’ve come to know them. Or at least who they portray themselves to be online. I have, in essence, built stories about who they are. How they act. Why they do what they do. What they want out of life, and what they believe.

Soon I will come face to face with them, and they will not be exactly what I expect. I hope to love them anyway. As much or more than I do now. I can only hope they’ll be able to do the same.

One of the strengths of growing up partially oblivious to the expectations of those around you, is that they don’t limit who you might be. As a result I suspect I’m far odder than I would have been otherwise. But also far more interesting in my opinion.

I am still discovering things about myself, especially now that I’m not held down in shackles of depression. I think I would like to be the sort of person that expands, rather than limits, who and what a person could be.

Reflection on a captured moment in time

Posted on by Realistic Autistic

I’m sitting outside my house eating breakfast in early fall sunshine, emotionally exhausted on my Friday. But enjoying a Switchfoot album a friend (Sancho) finally gently pestered me into listening to.

I’m sad and crushed because my regular work partner (Cody) moved on without me and didn’t want to stay friends outside work. And a really promising romantic interest (Más) moved on without me.

I’m in a dead end job with barely any energy for trying to get a better one. And it costs me so much energy to deal with the job that I haven’t been able to do as much with house upkeep as I’d like.

But. Another friend (Kristophe) just bought me Baldur’s Gate 3, I’d been wanting to play, and couldn’t afford it. He bought it pretty much just because he wanted to. Blindsided me. It’s downloading and will be waiting for me when I get home.

I’ve kept the email notification alongside the one from earlier this year when someone bought me Diablo 4. Because I kind of can’t believe someone would do that.

And I’m reading a good book series a friend (Prety) recommended and talking to him about it. And One Piece, a manga, same deal with Koopz.

My DMs on Discord have never been so busy. My emotions are a confusing mess of sadness, despair, joy, gratitude, and confusion.

Once upon a time I did 1-2 emotions at a time, and they were always all good or all bad. Mostly all bad. Then my life crashed, my toxic relationship ended, I unpoisoned my brain, and…

Is this what it’s like to have friends?

Fear (from October 2022)

Posted on by Realistic Autistic

(Note from July 2023: the relationship that provoked this post ended with them withdrawing after a few months. I took things from the experience, grieved, and moved on. I’m declassifying this now because it no longer hurts me enough to fear posting it.)

I never noticed how much of my life was ruled by fear until recently. How much of a coward I can be. Looking back over my life, fear has always warred with love. And, usually, won.

It makes sense, you know. I’ve generally considered myself brave, but how can you be brave unless there’s something to be afraid of? Something to strive against. Something to be brave despite?

I’ve spent the last year of my life in circumstances that, honestly, are miserable. But they do pay the bills. For now. And now, on the tail end of it, I’ve recovered enough from the tragedy of my failed marriage to really, deeply care about somebody else. To feel joy in their presence, enjoy their quirks and their passion and really see the beautiful parts of their personality. To see, through their eyes, the beauty of the world around me.

Nothing will come of it, I’m sure. There are a lot of factors against anything serious coming of it. But it’s so beautiful and the feelings are so good that the idea of losing them apparently shook my unconscious so badly I started resorting to unhealthy behavior in an effort to prolong it… frankly, in circumstances that weren’t really even threatening to the relationship.

I feel ashamed. And small. And so, so weak.

My therapist would say, with a supportive and encouraging smile, “Well, it looks like you’re still human. And that’s okay.” And she might also point out, after so long being miserable, it makes sense to be desperate to keep that kind of joy close.

But I’ve always wanted to be better than human. To not fall prey, over and over, to the same stupid mistakes. To be done with it eventually, and just be able to live unhindered. It’s why I’ve worked so hard on self-improvement. It’s why I try so hard to be kind to others. I want to break limits.

It’s an impossible dream, of course. Until, perhaps, God comes again, I’m stuck being human and having to forgive myself and making mistakes and having to be kind to myself as well as others.

But I have to try.

Straw Armor

Posted on by Realistic Autistic

So yesterday I went off to face a personal demon I’ve carried for years. I’ve had a rocky relationship with my only brother and his wife for years. The reasons were complicated, and not entirely anyone’s fault. I’ve been a lot harder to deal with in the past, because of all the trauma and pain.

It’s funny, because I’m not actually that different a person. I’m just a different experience now that I’m not depressed.

So I strapped a glass straw across my chest. Over my heart, in fact. In its cloth carrying case, tucked under my bra so it wouldn’t move. Like armor. Something to shield and save me, remind me that even if my family dislikes and wishes me away, there are still other people that care and matter.

The sheer absurdity of strapping a breakable glass item on, like it was armor, had me laughing pretty hard as I drove out to face my fate.

Edit a few months in the future: the family event actually went way better than I expected. All is not fixed. But some positive steps were taken.

Culture (Mis)match

Posted on by Realistic Autistic

Mismatch

A lovely older couple from my church invited me, my parents, and a couple other, older church folks, to brunch. They were unfailingly polite and kind, making sure there would be plenty to eat for me and my mother, despite our different (but very strict) dietary requirements. I’m honestly grateful for the invitation and experience.

The whole event cost me maybe 3 hours. The food was very good, fresh, clean, and plentiful. They even labeled it to be very sure everyone could eat safely. The home was clean, well put-together, coordinated, spacious. Reminded me of family get-togethers in the past. The hosts and company were polite, good natured, fair-spoken, social. The conversation flowed, lightly touching on beliefs, current events, and personal experiences without me needing to help it along or even contribute much.

Which was good, because I was a fish out of water. I was underdressed: these were older people, dressed up in nice Sunday clothes. Uncomfortable clothes, to my recollection. I wore shorts and a soft T-shirt, and my blue-dyed hair in stark contrast to the natural colors represented in the room. I needed to tone down my words, my cursing, my emotional expression, to fit in.

I started out more myself, being on my phone with a new game I’d picked up the previous day. But as I looked around the room at the behavior of everyone else, I realized how poorly I was fitting in.

My socialization kicked in. I put away my phone and schooled myself to stillness and listened in a way that looked more attentive but was actually less so. Without something to occupy my fingers and part of my attention, I quickly became miserable thinking about all the things I could have been doing instead.

And it occurred to me during all this… this situation was representative of a lot of my childhood. I genuinely did not like being there. The niceties, the restraint, the delicate passing of the conversation from person to person without delving too deeply into any feelings or beliefs. That last bit, the lack of depth, might not be fair, honestly. But when I think on the conversations I’ve had with people I consider friends… they looked nothing like this.

My friends are typically direct, at least somewhat. They’re honest, and they often don’t flinch from uncomfortable subjects. The conversations provoke thought as well as laughter. Their humor is similar, tending into the absurd, occasionally bawdy, loud, and with clever wordplay.

In short, they’re a very far cry from what I experienced at this brunch. And it wasn’t like they were judging me, really, or that they said anything. They seemed honest and genuine. I just… couldn’t get comfortable. I couldn’t feel that I belonged, or that it was okay for me to be myself.

Socialization

In truth, it probably would have been fine for me to just be myself. Gotten out my phone, played my weirdass dinosaur Pokemon GO clone that my work friend showed me. Hummed to myself if I felt like it. Sat with one leg under me, asked for a blanket so I could be comfortable in the chilliness of the house. It would have been abnormal. Uncomfortable for everyone involved, but probably fine.

I just… couldn’t.

I know what my therapist would say: be yourself anyway. There weren’t going to be consequences besides not being invited back. Maybe some looks, uncomfortable body language, comments if people decided it really bothered them. Would have been really indirect, polite comments, judging by history. The kind that hurt the most because of all that’s not said. But frankly, I think I’m being unfair to these folks again. I think they genuinely were as nice and kind as they appeared, and I’m just letting bitterness from my past creep into my experience of the present.

So I should have just sucked it up and been myself.

When I talked to my mom about it afterwards, she thanked me for just…dealing with it. Which is how I was raised. That is exactly how I was raised. Don’t be too you, conform to social expectations regardless of how poorly they suit you, sit still, smile.

Be miserable.

Be miserable, and pretend you aren’t.

I live in a world that doesn’t comprehend how different I am. Those niceties and social norms work for a lot of people, without making them miserable. But not for me. And all too often, when it does, it reacts negatively. And that shit hurts. Especially when I was younger, it hurt a lot.

I’m not young anymore, but part of me is still 6 and fidgety and wanting to be reading a book or playing a game or folding origami rather than listening in miserable boredom as people talk on and on about subjects that don’t interest me enough to keep my full focus.

Match

About a week ago, I came back from a vacation. The first “just for me” vacation in like a decade. I visited people that accepted me for who I am, where I was, and however I wanted to be. I didn’t feel pressured to live up to some kind of set of expectations. It was amazing. It touched me in ways I couldn’t have believed or understood. Ways I’m still trying to sort out, even as my normal life, with my misery-inducing job, sinks its black claws into my soul.

And you know… they were just people, all of them. Flawed. Not really that different from random people on the street… except… except the shared experiences. Except the similar mentalities. The personality quirks, the tendencies. They’re like me. They like me. At worst they tolerate me.

I had no idea that was even possible. A single match here and there, with years between finding people like that, sure, maybe. A whole group? Madness. Logical, since “birds of a feather flock together.” But emotionally a non-reality to me. Until now.

There’s such a huge disconnect between the life I experienced while on vacation and the life I have right now. It’s so massive, it feels insurmountable. I could take more vacation, spend more time out there among these soul-kin I’ve found. But I’d run out of money eventually. I have responsibilities. A life, such as it is. A job, a house. Family.

I don’t know what to do. I’m so grateful to have found these people, these soul-kin. And so lost now that I have. So much of life is strongly affected by your perceptions and mental state. Like stripping colors from the world itself, misery changes the experience of life. It’s so much easier to be kind and good when you’re not miserable. So much easier to love yourself. To love others.

I’m tired of being miserable, though. I know that now. Isn’t 30 years of misery enough?

Legwork and Life: Zucchini

Posted on by Realistic Autistic
I tried my hand at gardening this year a bit.  It was something to do that made me feel a little more in control of my life, plus growing food is kind of cool.  I started with an idea, some containers, and some seeds…

In all honesty, I planted late.  I could have easily planted a full month earlier, I just wasn\’t sold on the idea.  I try to think through ideas that have price tags over $20 or so, and this was significantly higher.  Still, it was kind of rewarding to see the zucchini sprout and grow…

And grow…

And just keep growing.

Then they flowered, and the harvest began.

This was the first zucchini I harvested.  As you can see, it is not small.  I was pretty pleased.  We chopped it into pasta dishes.

But of course you never get just one zucchini, so…  They began to pile up, even though I made gifts of some.  Notably, due to the coronavirus, the zucchinis sold in the store are a quarter to half the size of the ones here.  Zucchini can grow to be the size of baseball bats (just ask my mother-in-law, who grows an army of zucchini every year), but the insides get very squishy and seedy so you’re better off harvesting them sooner.

I bought a starter spiralizer to use on fresh zucchini, and to make tossing zucchini in pasta even easier.  You can use spiralizers on most vegetables, but I wanted to specifically try to freeze zucchini spirals.

There’s now a quart bag in the freezer for use whenever, plus more in the fridge.

In addition to spiralizing zucchini, I also endeavored to make my spouse’s family zucchini bread recipe, which is notably a dessert.  That’s cinnamon sugar on the top.

At the time of this post, I’ve baked six of these loaves and made gifts of two.  My spouse has agitated for something like 10 loaves to keep in the freezer, because this zucchini bread is familiar, comfort food for him and he wants to have it around all the time now.  I’m not sure I’m up to making and freezing that many, but it’s… certainly possible with how much zucchini I’ve harvested.

Legwork and Life: Black Raspberries (and other rubus berries)

Posted on by Realistic Autistic

It\’s been a while, but I thought I\’d say \”hi\” and \”I\’m doing okay despite the virus and stay-at-home orders\” and also \”here\’s what I\’ve kept busy with.\”  There\’s actually a second post I should do on zucchini, but you\’ll forgive me if I keep it brief.

Black raspberry, or rubus occidentalis, is a wild growing bramble berry.  I\’ve enjoyed the flavor since I was quite young and had very little idea what I was putting in my mouth (but Mom said it was safe).  It\’s smaller than domestic blackberries or raspberries, but very flavorful.  Like blackberries and raspberries, the brambles have thorns, but with care, you can get a delicious snack without too much trouble.

I gathered small handfuls here and there when I was little, but didn\’t think much of it.  Last year, one of my friends got into foraging, and I rediscovered rubus occidentalis.  Together we found several very worthy foraging spots for these delicious berries…  so this year, these happened:

Those are the same size of container, but it\’s three separate trips.  Each container is about the size of a large saucepan… so now you have a better idea of how many berries you\’re looking at.  Suffice it to say, I spent a lot of hours outdoors. 

I think this is one of those things being autistic helps with.  When I wasn\’t berrying with my friend, I\’d put a playlist of podcasts on and just work my way through the area slowly but surely.  This allowed me to get into a state of hyperfocus: much of my mind could be occupied learning about mythology or trying to understand racial oppression in the US, and my hands and eyes were kept busy spotting and harvesting black raspberries.  Meanwhile I\’m breathing fresh air and getting exercise.  Overall, it was a very positive experience.  My main gripe is that I don\’t have enough time in the day when I\’m dedicating several hours to just berrying.

I only got ice cream after berrying once, but being able to throw fresh berries into my treat was really rewarding.  

There are actually five kinds of berries in the pictures above.  While the bulk of my harvest was black raspberries, there were also wild red raspberries, wild blackberries, some kind of hybrid blackberry/black raspberry, and what I assume was someone\’s escaped specialized raspberry plants. 

All rubus berries are safe to eat, so I consumed a few of those odd pale yellowish berries.  They tasted exactly like raspberries.  (Please note, not all berries are rubus berries!  Do not eat random berries off plants without IDing them.)

Because it personally amuses me: side by sides of domestic and wild berries.  Selective breeding at work!  I\’m pretty sure raspberries weren\’t the size of my whole knuckle joint when I was little.  Though I think they were still bigger than that wild raspberry in the picture.  Maybe twice the size?

Anyway, once picked, I obviously ate some of my harvest raw…  but I also wanted to cook with them.  Which mean washing them.  From container to soaking (and picking little bits of plant matter out) to drying again. 

Pies were the obvious choice.  I actually made three, but gave the bulk of those pastries, including a half of a pie to my parents.  I also made a gluten-free pie for the first time, which would be more impressive if I hadn\’t used a baking mix.  The crust still came out poorly, because I couldn\’t use my gluten-infested rolling pin.  So I hand-shaped it and it was fine, but the crust cracked and filling leaked. There will be no awards for best in show, but they were still tasty at least.

There was also freezing them on trays…

And stuffing them into a gallon bag for later.  I may not be inclined to eat a whole gallon bag worth of black razzes (and friends) right now, but winter will likely be another story. 

Finally, I also made syrup.  This involved simmering the berries with water, sugar, corn starch (to thicken it) and a bit of vanilla.  The berries have to be mashed pretty good to get most of their liquids out.

You can strain all the pulp out of it, but I left a small amount in, just for some texture.  Leave it all, and you don\’t have a syrup, you have… I guess jam, kinda.  Leave none and you practically have store syrup.  Leaving some reminds you where the flavor came from without making you chew your way through all the seeds.

It\’s pretty good on ice cream!

I\’ve made two batches of syrup now, and frozen most of it in ice cube form.  It\’ll last longer that way and can be thawed out when I want to serve it. 

The season is basically over now, which means I can stop braving the 90+ degree weather and focus a bit more on my plants and handling such things as dental appointments, getting an eye exam, and all that fun health maintenance stuff. 

It\’s been a very active summer for me, and I think I\’m better for it.  Hopefully, my harvest and cooking work will brighten the gloomy winter days ahead.  

Looking Forward, Looking Back (2020)

Posted on by Realistic Autistic
Normally I do this sort of thing in January, but because of complications hosting Chris\’ younger brother, it just didn\’t happen.  Then the coronavirus stuff happened, and now the future is really kind of uncertain overall.  Still, you can\’t just sit on your hands and expect everything to work itself out neatly for you, so here\’s my best effort at my goals and future planning.  Things may change, but that\’s life, and that\’s okay.

Typically I want my goals to be SMART: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-bound.  This year, stuff is so up in the air that I\’m not sure I\’m going to rigidly adhere to those excellent criteria. 

2019\’s Goals:

1.  Exercise at least 3 days a week, at least a half hour each session, minimum.

I can\’t decide whether I succeeded here or not.  On one hand, I didn\’t have a regular Wednesday exercise day like I\’d envisioned.   On the other hand, I definitely did go walking with my friend Tsushi nearly every week, and sometimes those times involved tramping through the outdoors picking wild food.

Life kind of went haywire starting around October in my personal life and in one friend circle, and I ended up being moving crew a lot for a significant amount of time.  It was great exercise.  On the flip side, I got the flu around that time.. which meant I got almost no exercise for a whole week.

I don\’t feel great about my progress on this goal, but in an effort to be kind to myself, I\’m going to note that I technically achieved this… just not the way I wanted to.  One of the books I read recently notes that indoor exercise, the gym, my exercise bike, etc, is not really a good environment for humans, ie: boring.  So you want to do more with the outside.  I\’m just not sure how I feel about going for a walk in biting winter winds.

2. Finish my catching up on the MBMBaM podcast and get started on the wider range of podcasts I\’ve already set up for myself.

I succeeded!  And then promptly fell behind again!  But I did branch out to new stuff.  Sadly most of the blog-relevant podcasts turned out to be dead ends.  Still, I\’ve gotten to bone up on a lot of more self-care relevant things, like mythology, books, and new/interesting ideas.  So, a success!  At least as written.  I don\’t know how feasible keeping up-to-date on 18 podcasts is, but that\’s how many I\’m subscribed to.

If you have disability podcast recommendations, especially ones related to current news and issues, I\’d love to hear about them.

3. Quantify the environmental downers around the house I can be susceptible to, and eliminate or treat the issues if at all possible.

This one I didn\’t entirely succeed at.  Or to be more precise, I hit a dead end.  The idea was to find stuff besides mold and the algae that messes me up, but in all honesty, we couldn\’t find anything.  *Something* is probably messing me up and making me generate so many histamines, but it\’s not my diet, and it\’s not really my bedding either, given that I wash that once a week in hot water.

We could still shell out to re-tile the master bathroom (an area that was noted to be slightly moldy in the house inspection), and that\’s on the list of home repairs I\’d like to have handled, but it\’s expensive, and the money isn\’t there right now.

I\’m stalled on the histamine issue, too.  Vitamin C doesn\’t seem to be doing the trick, so perhaps when I can breathe again, I\’ll look into trying specific herbs or other avenues.  I simply haven\’t had the energy since about October.

4. Pick up an autism-related volunteer or paid job.

I did this!  And then there didn\’t seem to be enough work for me, so it sort of fell through after a few months.  So uh.  Success?  Failure?  Failcess?  I\’d hoped to use this to get more hooked into services and people, but that didn\’t really happen.  So probably closer to failure.  I\’m a little frustrated about this because I had a car and mobility, and now I don\’t as much, so trying to get a job at a further place would be significantly more difficult.

2020\’s goals:

1.  Gather and prepare more wild food.  
There\’s a few reasons for this.  First, it helps to have an additional food supply besides the grocery store.  We\’re not in danger of starving or running out of food money anytime soon, but stretching it as far as we can is smart.  Second, having a diverse diet is good for everyone, but especially people with unsteady biological systems, like myself and other autistic people.

This is a young dandelion greens salad I made a few weeks ago, with olive oil and salt. I\’d like to eat more wild salads like this, but dandelions have to be picked very young or they\’re INCREDIBLY bitter.  

Third, the organisms that you come into contact with and consume in wild food can help strengthen and diversify your gut bacteria, which means less digestive issues.  This is very good news for me, because I have gut issues already and have for decades.  

2.  Pick up a volunteer or paid job.
Strictly speaking I already have this, at least in name, but in practice I\’m just not sure how much work is actually going to come from it.  When the quarantine lifts, I may ask further in that organization.  I may also simply look into work unrelated to autism, like the local library.

My spouse is currently furloughed from his job, which is to say his job will be waiting for him in June sometime (hopefully).  Likely the local library is going to have a truly absurd number of job applications, on account of it being walking distance for a lot of folks.  Still, any income\’s better than none.  I have to think on it further, and there may be other places I could apply.  Libraries tend to be comfortable, safe places to me, though, and it\’s literally a mile\’s walk from my house. 

3.  Incorporate daily exercise into my life.

At the moment I\’m not sure what this is going to look like.  I have Ring Fit Adventure, which I can use on days the weather is bad.  I have hiking/searching for wild food, which definitely qualifies as exercise.  I have my exercise bike and Dance Dance Revolution equipment.  And I have my bike.  So I do have options. 

What I\’d like to do, I guess, is have at least 10 minutes of exercise built into every day (except Sunday).  That might be as simple as using Ring Fit every day, and whatever else happens, happens.  As video games go, it\’s kind and supportive while still being reasonably demanding, and you can absolutely work up a sweat playing it. 

I tend to do best with a schedule, so that\’s probably my best option.  And I should probably also build it into my morning routine so I have the good effects of exercise for my day, plus the accomplishment of doing that to boost my morale. 

My biggest irritation with it is that I have to move the coffee table to play the game, then move it back so we can use the space normally.  You\’d think that wouldn\’t be much, but doing it day after day irritates me a lot for some reason.  Makes me not want to put the effort in. 

4. Survive the coronavirus/quarantine/etc.

This probably goes without needing an explanation, but the uncertainty of everything is kind of difficult for people that don\’t do well with change.  Such as most autistic people.  And myself. 

I\’m less worried about physical needs, like food and shelter, at the moment, and more just entirely exhausted.  I\’ll write about why at a later point, when I\’m not so emotionally overwrought about it. 

At any rate, with Chris home all the time now, and my still wanting to do this blog and possibly other work, there\’s going to be a lot of adjustments needed.  

Legwork and Life: the Familyening

Posted on by Realistic Autistic
This is Legwork and Life, where I track the legwork and opportunities in my career as an autistic advocate, and also describe parts of my adult autistic life, including my perspectives on everyday problems and situations.

This L&L is to note that my life has significantly changed as of last Saturday.  We went down for Thanksgiving to celebrate with my spouse\’s family.  That was significantly exhausting and I\’m still recovering this week.  But we also came back with Chris\’ younger brother, Ryan.  

The area we live in has a lot more by way of job opportunities and educational opportunities than where he was living, so he\’ll be living in our spare bedroom for up to two years while he gets his feet under him.  Like me, he\’s neurodiverse, and may need some extra support for a time.  Unlike me, he\’s been able to keep a part time or full time job for longer than a year in recent memory, so that bodes well for his success.

It\’s a major change, as I\’m not great at sharing space in the first place.  My spouse should probably get a medal for putting up with me.  I think it\’ll be okay overall, as he has his own space and we pointedly tried to hammer out basic rules, which he read ahead of time and was okay with.  Regardless, though, it\’ll be an interesting (and challenging) experience.  

I tend to spend a lot of time home, which also meant being alone prior to this.  Depending on how quickly he gets a job, this may or may not be disrupted too much in the long run.  For now, my ears keep picking up on noises I wasn\’t expecting, because he has friends he chats with via the Internet and he also moves around the house sometimes.  I\’ll probably adjust to that in a week or so.  In the meantime, at least for sleeping, I\’m looking into using MyNoise more, due to its excellent range of white noise generators of all kinds.  

I find the rain options particularly soothing, but really, any of them help tone down how much I can hear, which helps.  It\’s a great resource.

Mostly, I\’m just hoping this goes well, and that I\’m not too big of a grump or a jerk in the process.  

The Last Legwork and Life?

Posted on by Realistic Autistic
This will probably be the last L&L for a while.  I\’m suffering burnout, which makes me want to cut down on things so I can recover. 

Also, while I suppose technically my day-to-day life provides some insight on how autism can change your experience of things, I just don\’t feel like it\’s a super valuable part of the blog overall.  The hope was to make this blog a resource for parents, teachers, fellow autistics, and other interested parties, and I\’m not sure a journal-style regular segment is really the most useful part of that. 

If you have strong feelings on the subject, feel free to email me at therealisticautistic(A T)gmail.com.  I\’m willing to listen to my readers.  On the whole, though, this blog really hasn\’t garnered much by way of comments, feedback or really anything at all beyond my immediate family, so I\’ll be surprised if I receive an email. 

I don\’t anticipate never writing an L&L again, I suppose, but I feel like it\’ll probably be more like a bonus, when something actually happens in regards to my career or health.