Friday, October 30, 2015

Safe sex. Is wearing a hat becoming "old hat"?

Here's what I'm learning about dating lately. Condoms are out of style. Which basically means I'm never getting laid.

I doubt very much that any of these prophylactic boycotters have ever spent an extended amount of time alone with a colicky newborn or sitting in the Planned Parent waiting room with their stomach in their throat and fire in their genitals.

I'm all about the business being real as it can be, but at the comfortable age of 36 I have for sure had enough scares , as well as some rather permanent reminders of the repercussions of unprotected sex.(I'll give you a hint, they mess up my house and eat all my food) I'll admit it, I learned my lesson late, but not too late. I thank my lucky stars I'm disease free. At this point I owe it to the man up stairs. He looked out for me when I wasn't looking out for myself.

I am speaking to people lately, most of them younger, and I am rather astounded. They hate condoms. You say the word and you get a face scrunch. I would think that they would be more educated, informed, and paranoid than they seem to be. Why so laissez faire?

I mean lets face it. Divorce is on the table as a quick get out option , so nobody really takes commitment serious anymore. What does that mean for our genitals? I'll tell you what it means. Nobody's safe out there. Penis and vaginas alike are seeing an incredible rise in the amount of random encounters they find themselves in without the right kind of equipment to protect themselves.

I went on a quasi date, which is like a real date in that you leave the house looking like a million bucks, or a crisp fifty if your a hermit like myself. (Not that we can't reach that whole million dollar status, it's just that were fabulous with all the bells and whistles on the inside so we see no reason to go overboard) Anyway as I was saying. So I met up with this guy, more than a decade younger, and I believe for all intents and purposes that makes me a cougar, correct? So hes all calvin klein underwear model looking fine. Now, I must interject here and go back to the idea of a quasi date. So he's very young. Too young to date. I do believe age is relative, but when were talking about making a lifetime commitment my standards are such that the other person has at least lived enough years to have an idea of what exactly that entails. So this quasi date is lets get together, know eachother until were comfortable enough to sleep together and go from there.

I know what you are thinking.

I'm not embarrassed or ashamed to admit that I have needs. I have standards also .Something important to understand is that just because you have one doesn't mean you should ignore the other. Meaning, I am picky in the kind of person I choose to share any extended amount of time with but that doesn't mean my vagina should turn into a mausoleum. It also means don't sleep with any tom,dick, or harry to get your jollys off. So with that said, I have decided as of late to just find someone for the purpose of getting my physical needs met until I can find the person that meet my standards as a competent life partner.

So here I am with Calvin, that's what we will call him because he was that hot. We are sitting by the water, discussing a lovely scenic view when all of the sudden he goes in for the kill. This wasn't just an average kind of kiss, this was a “here I come to savagely breath life into every fantasy you have had thus far.”Get it?

So before I know it my leggings are at my knees (his doing, as ladies know very well leggings are liars and we would never take them off to reveal everything they pretend we are not) Long story short hes making a leap from the passenger seat with his lower extremities at liftoff.

So here's the good thing about my brain and its wiring. I have the uncanny ability to be completely rational in moments where people loose their heads. Even in instances when its the literal heat of the moment and my loins are ablaze, my mind is able to press the brakes.

I attribute this to the fact that I question everything. I see things in black and white. Gray scares me actually. So when it comes to sex, I rarely ever throw caution to the wind because there's 13 million thoughts racing through my brain about the calculated risk I am taking. Imagine this, that only a minute amount of these thoughts ever escape my lips.

I used to feel bad about interrupting with my completely inappropriate comments at all the wrong moments. Now I count them as a blessing.

Needless to say, my quasi date ended with one or more parties in a state of dissatisfaction.

 Listen, there were times I have used poor judgment, or failed to act on things I was thinking out of sheer and utter confusion.But i owe myself more than that. I wish I could better understand people's intentions in regards to intimate relationships, especially in regards to the physical and emotional factors involved in sex.

I once asked someone I was interested in to come along with me and get tested. I felt at least this way if it went as far as sex we could rest easy. He agreed, but disappeared from my life before that could happen. I like to think I may have saved myself from a significant amount of trouble and heartache down the line. I believe things fall into place that way.

It's like that simple 5 degrees of we move in a different direction every day that makes the biggest changes later. Tony Robbins taught me that.

I may have had it wrong for a while, but at least I am on the right track now. Safety is totally in style, I mean consider the opposite, you could be dead., and we all know you can't feel that heat if you're buried 6 feet deep. So Be Protected. You'll have to excuse me now, Calvin is on his way over as we speak. With Condoms. Stay Safe and until next time...Stay Weird.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

No, the Target cashier doesn't need to hear the gory details of your PMS

How much is too much? Don't ask me because I'm still trying to figure that out. I've always operated under “honesty is the best policy”. Perhaps, if someone told me I could still be honest without telling my entire life story to perfect strangers, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this today.

So much for warnings.

Don't get me wrong, I have absolutely been dishonest. Its just difficult. Most of the instances were when I felt forced, unsure, or backed into a corner and otherwise pressured to tell someone what they wanted to hear in order to be left alone. I don't commend my dishonesty, but I do understand why at the time it was necessary.

Nonetheless, if you are like me, brutal honesty has caused more of a issue with your relationships than lying ever has. Things like social norms, unsaid rules, nuances, couth and all things deemed appropriate....I have no space for them. Mostly I don't know when is the best time to shut the hell up.

In grad school I remember discussing a term called “disclosure”. In therapeutic terms that means revealing certain things about yourself as a practitioner to a patient in order to gain a mutual understanding and form a line of trust. Like, “Hey, I know what you are going through having lost your dad, my favorite uncle who raised me passed when I was 12”,or something to that effect. Not too much but just enough, my professor said.

I distinctly remember causing a mini uproar in the classroom when I raised my hand to tell him I felt there shouldn't be limits set on disclosure. I felt it should be at the practioner's discretion. Well, we spent an hour going back and forth while his face engulfed in flames and my classmates looked on with their mouth spread wide open. Had he possessed the power to throw me out of the program, I believe at that moment ,he may have done just that. Lucky for me there's such a thing as freedom of speech and straight A's.

I don't know any way to redeem myself for my thought processes, or if it's even necessary, but for all intents and purposes, it is a good idea to learn when saying too much is just too much.

Lately I find following a general rule of thumb to be somewhat helpful. During interactions, if it is my turn to exchange conversation, before I go ahead and spew, I stop for a second and ask myself the question, “did the person ask for this specific information, and also, could I save any of it for a later conversation perhaps?” It sounds simple enough.

The way my brain works, it is difficult for me to decipher peoples intentions in conversation, so it has become a habit to just spill any and all relevant information and then some, on said topic of conversation so I can be sure I covered everything. Basically I feel better having told you a detailed account of every time I have had the flu including the amount of times I puked, sneezed, coughed up green shit , and didn't shower or brush my teeth for a week.

I want you to know I understand and this is the way I know how.

Unfortunately this isn't always effective. In cases with friends and family I can get away with more. They are accustomed to the fine tuned wiring system inside my cranium. With strangers , such as prospective dates, future employers on job interviews, parent teacher meetings, or on line at Target, I have implemented what I like to call “neuromode” (Neurotypical is a term used to describe those who are not on the Spectrum) I have studied peoples behavior since I was a small child. I can and do adapt into a more socially acceptable version of myself when the occasion calls for it. Like a chamelion. I would probably make an incredible actor actually. Anyway, if I'm buying maxi pads at Target,(tampons frighten me) and the cashier asks how I'm doing, he/she is not looking for me to explain the details of my cramps, bloating, and fatigue due to the obvious incidence of it being that time of the month. Its okay to say “I'm fine thank you” and keep it moving even, if at that moment you are feeling like a raging bulldozer. Go home and eat a snickers. Problem solved. (tampon info too much?)

Something I have always admired about people is when they posses the ability to be very frank in speaking. Those types of people are soothing. We can totally hold hands and sail across the same wavelength. (just kidding I hate holding hands).

In my observations I have noticed that very few people actually posses this ability. People have this knack for dancing around the truth. Why??? I don't now if I will ever understand that. It's like walking around the snack table at a party with your stomach howling like a wildebeast. (they howl right?) Like “hey I'm just carousing”. I wanna scream “cut it out!!! grab that fistful of chips and stuff your face damnit!!!” What the hell ??? I could go on and on about things I have noticed and picked up about people. But then I would be revealing my secret super powers, and I need to keep those for myself. It's how I survive. You gotta go do your own legwork.

Regardless, say it how I meant it is both a blessing and a curse. Like all superheros and their powers, I am learning when and where to use them so I can reach my full potential. So if you see me gazing off to the side during a conversation, that's just my way of calibrating and contemplating the best way to exercise my abilities to address the situation. No worries, I may not speak body language, but I'm fluent in sincerity . Until next time. Stay Weird.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

I can hear my wallet crying.

I'll admit it. I have a spending problem. Although spending isn't necessarily a problem unless you are like me, and don't have much to spend. Somehow that doesn't stop me.

Over the past 18 years, I have accrued a significant amount of debt. I remember how it all started. It was my first semester at St. Johns University. I walked around campus with my hands surgically attached to my backpack straps, holding on for dear life. New situations have a way of making me feel completely out of control.

It was the second week of classes. I was just starting to get my footing. Navigating from building to building silently rehearsing directions to my classes from memory. That day, a man dressed for a wedding greeted me at the door to my sociology class. He extended his hand, and politely, I declined, turning my body sideways to avoid confrontation. He persisted.

Never in my life had I encountered a credit card salesman. Seemingly altruistic out for you best interest , they reach to snatch your existence straight through the doe eye windows of your soul. I'm not exaggerating. It was weird, the idea of someone begging me to borrow their money. Shit, I had a hard time getting 20 bucks from my dad for gas that day.

Credit card sharks are like trained fighters. They study their opponents and learn their weaknesses just enough to catch them in most vulnerable moments followed by the sweet taste of victory. Fucking splendid.

So I signed by the x , waited while my palms sweat for a few minutes, and boom. Like magic I was ushered into the world of plastic debt.

I consider myself lucky to have a supportive father. One who has all the years taken the brunt of my financial impulsivity. I don't know that he completely understands its not on purpose, and the components of OCD, depression and impulse spending and how they fuel eachother, but neither did I until recently. As I learn more about Aspergers, I start to understand things about my past. Things that I have punished myself for repeatedly without understanding why it was happening and the real way to get it under control.

Truth is, I have never been good with money for as long as I can remember. Spend it as I get it was my motto. Even as an adult, I find myself in the same situation, only now, I understand better why I do it.

My inclination towards spending has more to do with the impulsivity that comes along with Aspergers. Let me just say right here though, I am in no way shape or form making excuses for my behaviors. I am simply stating that I am day by day obtaining a better understanding of what's really going on in my brain, and with that info, hoping to take steps in which to improve.

I have Aspergers. I am not Aspergers. I am Emily. As a decent , moral educated human being, I am seeking to better myself every day. The first step in doing so, is acknowledging your downfalls. Shit happens. I forgive myself. You gotta forgive yourself. Its how we move forward.

This is how I look at it. I was born with a predisposition to be more vulnerable to certain aspects in my surroundings. Kind of like a fair skin person is more likely to burn in the sun, and they need to take precautions to find the best methods of protection for their skin. I have to protect myself from situations that would encourage unnecessary spending. For me, staying busy is key. The times I find myself in holes are when I have too much free time. I become easily anxious, depressed, feel lost and need something to hang on to, kinda like my backpack straps that day at St Johns University.

More than anything, I want to be financially independent. I want to own a home. My whole life I have felt like everything around me was borrowed, even time. I just want to know what it feels like to have something that's just mine. I yearn for a sense of permanence and accomplishment. I use this as my driving force to stay focused. This is my backpack straps.

I'm 36. I still have time to make this happen. Not all at once, but bit by bit. For now, keeping myself focused and busy is the best way I know how to do this. In time, I will get better at mastering myself and I imagine I continue taking the necessary steps towards my dreams of accomplishment. Stay Weird.

Friday, October 16, 2015

Paychecks, fake smiles and what it all means to me.

If there were a way to go to school and get paid for it, that's what I would choose to do for the rest of my life. I love studying, I love schedules, I love repetition, I love routines , I love learning. Unfortunately, I have been unable to find such a position where I can tap into all of these and be financially compensated.

I've never had any difficulty being a student, but being an employee for some reason has never worked well for me. Maybe its because I find it next to impossible to comply to social norms (you with me? I'll save you a seat). Maybe its my rigid routines, or my difficulty with transitions, extreme anxiety in new situations and other random stimuli. Who knows.

What I do know, is that I went to college for 10 years for the security of obtaining a career in the field of my choice,which would then enable me to support my family. At least that's the way I was told it would be.

EHHHH.....not so much.

I am ,however, proud to say that I have achieved one of my life goals, to obtain a Masters degree. Despite an array of obstacles, I found my way to final destination.

When all was said and done, my excitement quickly faded. Transitioning into the real world was nothing like I had imagined. There are no guidance counselors or academic advisors that could type things into their computer and shift your world around to make you more comfortable. There is no buffer. No safety net. No graceful landing. It feels like a swift kick in the ass after being caught skinny dipping, and the moments following when you attempt to vanish into a rowdy, unfriendly crowd with your clothes and other belongings in your hands...stark naked.

It has been four years and I still have yet to find a position in my field...scratch that... any field. I made the decision to lower my expectations in terms of starting salary, just so I could get a foot in the door. I'm learning things don't always turn out the way we plan.

It's no secret that part of having Aspergers means that I suck at anything social. I probably don't interview well. I wear a fake smile,(that shit hurts), practice looking normal and pretend that I know the rules to the everyday exchange of conversation. Its exhausting.

Let me tell you a quick story.

Not too long ago, a director friend offered to film me performing one of my poems in a natural setting to be put on his YouTube channel. I was nervous because I have always felt weird about listening to my voice on a recording or watching myself in an impromptu home video. I found though, once the filming was done, I felt an overall sense of satisfaction at having completed the project, which was, at times, was clearly quite daunting. But I also noticed with that satisfaction I became flooded with a deep sense of sadness.

My friend allowed me to watch snippets of the video before he completed the edits. It wasn't the planned acting parts that struck me, but those moments on the sidelines where I saw myself , being myself. For lack of a better metaphor, it felt a little like watching the gorillas at the Bronx zoo. There they are, in their space, completely unadultered for the whole world to see. (for the record I think gorillas are awesome so in this instance I don't completely mind being compared to one)

Anyway, what I'm getting at is that I noticed for the first time how others would see me, and how they could possibly see me as different.(I try to use the word “different” lightly. I like to think what separates us makes us unique and gives us an edge.)To be frank, there was something maddeningly raw and honest about watching myself in those moments. Like hey, this is the Emily everybody else sees.

Suddenly I could hear every negative and derogatory comment ever hurled in my direction about my awkward demeanor, and I realized what they meant. I had a good long cry in a hot shower(something I find incredibly therapeutic), along with a firm pep talk from my daughter (she's good for those)and I let that shit go.

Still, when I go on these job interviews, I can't help but wonder that these parts of me shine through and make it difficult for people consider me as an adept professional. Even more so, I worry that if I do get the kind of job I am qualified for, will it be something that overwhelms me completely. Maybe not getting a job right now is a sign.

I try to take things day by day. At least I have time to focus on my writing. But I have dreams. Dreams that require me to move from this page and present my strengths and assets to the real world.

I know where I want to be, and I don't want my differences to be a barrier on my journey, but rather a source of strength. I think having a diagnosis and learning acceptance is a step away from the confusion and defeat I have felt for so many years. I'm starting to understand that what other perceive as downfalls in my personality are actually of invaluable worth. (Some say obsessive, but I'm quite literally the most loyal person I know) Besides, I've made it this far, and that's got  to count for something. Lets see where else this journey takes me. Stay weird.  

Monday, October 12, 2015

On how not to sink.

 I'm starting to notice something.  I obsess over things. Like my writing, for example. I'm starting to notice the way my brain only facilitates one mindset at a time.

They say some geniuses like Einstein, Hans Christian Anderson and Charles Lindberg, possessed the same trait which is what made made them such experts in their craft. They had the innate ability to zero in on one area focus more intently than the average person.

I have been writing since I was small. I took notes on back and forth conversation in my favorite television shows to help me navigate through my everyday life (i had no idea that's what i was doing at the time mind you). My parents took me for a hoarder when I refused to throw the notes away. Looking back now, I can understand why I had such an attachment to writing. It was the most effective form of communication for me. Unfortunately, I didn't have the skill set to explain this to my parents back then, and they didn't know any better.

I started writing poetry as a teenager. Broken hearts, fits of rage, storms of confusion, you name it I wrote it. It wasn't until a few years ago I really started taking my writing seriously. Things started out great. I started taking a few workshops, landed a bunch of performances, got paid, wrote a book. All good things. Until my writing became an obsession.

As I am learning about certain facets of Aspergers I am starting to feel the weight of my chest decrease with  tiny sighs of relief. So many years of feeling depressed, misunderstood, and alienated day by day start to make sense. Many people with Aspergers also suffer from depression, anxiety and OCD.(obsessive compulsive disorder) Lucky for me, I got the package deal. The thing about all three of these, is that they all have the ability to activate each other in one form or another. It's like the ultimate trifecta.

 My obsessive thoughts have dragged me down into my darkest days. Days when I literally felt like hurting myself was the only way to escape the crushing feeling. I never wanted to die. It was never a matter of taking my own life. No, this was more a way to feel grounded again. Like the only way back down from this crazy place was to physically bring myself back down again. This might not even make sense to some people, but it's the only way I know how to explain it right now.

Writing kept me far away from that place for years. I do think in many ways it is an excellent form of expression and release. The only problem I ran into, was that once I started taking it seriously, I stopped paying attention to everything else around me. I let it run my life. I ate, slept, breathed poetry. I stopped whatever little socialization I had taken part in, stopped actively reading, stop listening, stop noticing, stopped everything, for the sake of becoming the best writer. In theory it sounds like a practice makes perfect model. Not so much. Too much of anything is never a good thing applies here. But try telling my brain that.

The reason I took a break from poetry is because it became my obsession. If I wasn't producing quality work every day I had convinced myself I was a failure,and you say something enough times you start to believe it. I made myself sick over it. So much so I lost the spark that initially lit the flame in my desire to write. The love and wonder disappeared and it started to become toil and struggle. I needed to fix this.

I am lucky to have a trusted friend and mentor who has been an astute guide in my writing career. He listens to understand. Something not many people do anymore. He understood my quandary from a professional perspective as well as a personal perspective. We both agreed (okay it took a lot of convincing for me) it was time to hit the brakes. If I intended on growing as a writer, this pitstop was a necessary addition on my path to success.

Did I believe that in my heart? I'm not sure. I had to do a lot of self talk, still do. Telling myself things like “You are still a writer even though you aren't practicing today” “This isn't forever” “Everybody needs a break”.

It has been about 3 weeks. I have a little over a month to go. I have written one poem. I don't know if I should have, but I did. I have taken to writing notes for later so I don't feel so much pressure from loosing ideas I wish to address in my writing. Besides, I'm not completely bereft of poetry. I'm working on editing my second book , writing this blog which sometimes includes poems, and reading poetry at every chance I get.

It's not the way it was, and my brain is so akin to predictability and astute regime, and this whole freelance through my days can be a struggle I am not at all comfortable with. I won't lie and say it's easy. It sucks and I mess up. *Sidenote- Exercise and writing are my most important practices to maintain stability. Unfortunately, I had to alter my exercise routines due to an injury, which has only added  to my anxiety.So that's two huge changes I have had to make in my routine around the same time. Ask any Aspie.This will be the reaction..... Covers ears. Shuts eyes. Shakes head. Walks away. Nope.
 Imagine this- 4 wheel drive terrain and I am front wheel drive-just for the sake of a visual.

 But I am surviving.

I am learning not to put so much pressure on myself, especially if it means the end result could mean losing my greatest love. I'm not ready to risk that. Obsessing can put a person in some really shitty situations, (which I will discuss in a later post) and it is important to me that my writing not be including in that list.

I will never be perfect at this. But I do like to think I have started a new beginning. Recognizing parts of me and learning to love them as is, work around the things I can, and understanding that my differences don't make me a bad person or any less of a person, just slightly more complicated. Anyway who doesn't love a challenge??? Stay Weird.

Sunday, October 4, 2015

On Parenting from under my blankets.

 There is no one correct way to parent. It's like anything that requires you to be on your toes, except there are only so many times you can falter without causing a quake.

The kind of human being that I am requires me to spend a great deal of time alone. More so than the average person. Being a single parent isn't exactly conducive to this. I'll admit, there's more times than I care to own up to where I have marooned myself to my bed and governed the family from my blanket throne. It is my natural inclination to isolate, both as a person with Aspergers and also as a writer. Some may think that makes a shitty parent.

My son is 8. He exhibits classic ADHD symptoms according to all textbook cases. Some may argue that he's just being a normal little boy. I'm not opposed to either stance, but knowing what I know in my profession (LMSW by degree) I cannot deny the former. Either way, my son is Hurricane Gloria and I am mercury rising.

He is completely unpredictable, and I thrive on predictability. So how do I manage?
On my better days, days when I have enough upstairs space to move stuff around, I find ways to teach him how to do things for himself. Kids like predictability too, even when they carry category four destruction properties, they feel safer knowing which direction they are headed. What better way to help them feel secure than to teach them to care for themselves. Novel idea? Let's take a look.

Remember the day Sally forgot her three ring binder on the kitchen table, the one with all her homework in it? Remember how she called you from school crying about the trouble she could get into? (nevermind she hadn't bothered to address the issue with the teacher and negotiate a possible extension, and why would she, she has you )Remember how you were in the middle of an important meeting or project and you dropped everything to save her?

My guess is you already know what I'm going to say. I don't think bailing Sally out makes you a a bad parent, but I don't think it's making Sally any better of a human being. In fact, I think it hurts Sally in the long run. Here's why.

Like anything a person becomes accustomed to, there is always the risk of dependency. When most people think of dependency they think of things that are bad for our health, like drugs or alcohol or other addictive habits. If you think of your kids being dependent on you as a parent as something completely separate, think again.

Recently, I witnessed a middle aged man who clearly was suffering from difficulty ambulating around, perhaps a hip or leg injury. I watched this man struggle to bend over and tie his 13 year old's shoe. (I'm guessing because he looked like he was starting to grow a stache) . (Fast forward 20 years. This is the guy at the office who eats your lunch out of the fridge and when you ask why he tells you because he was hungry and forgot his. What a dick.) If you think your decisions as a parent aren't going to affect the people your child encounters in the future, you are wrong.

It took everything inside me to hold back from shouting “Tie your own damn shoe!!!”
Listen, if my 13 year old isn't tying their shoelaces, they are going to be hitting pavement until they get tired of the scrapes.

I call these kind of parents “helicopter parents” On top 24/7. I admire their tenacity. And believe me, I've caught myself comparing my skills to theirs and questioning my overall ability at being a mom. But the truth is, in a lot of ways I was one of these kids. I've lived 36 years of my life unsure if I could count on myself. I love my parents for taking such good care of me and loving me. I will never blame them for any of my life decisions or circumstance.

But I do wish I learned earlier how to care for myself more in certain situations. To cultivate a sense of pride in my achievements and accomplishments I had conquered on my own, instead of criticizing myself for not living up to someone else's standards, including other parents.  Having an Aspergers diagnosis, I am learning to better understand myself and my own behaviors in all different situations, and one that I feel is of utmost importance is being a parent.

Looking back on the past 17 years that I have raised my kids on my own, and been successful despite my own personal circumstance, I feel pretty certain that we as humans, are resilient, and my kids will survive despite my alternative processing.

It's like this. My brain is wired different. I do things that other people see as unconventional. I don't host playdates. I'm not on the PTA. I wont volunteer as coach. So what.

I let my kids know what's expected of them in order to survive in this world, by a universal standard and by teaching them to set their own expectations of themselves according to the part they want to play in the grand scheme of things. There's no one way to be a parent, but there's also no one way to be a human.

I told Dr Mike yesterday my son makes me want to hide sometimes. He told me its my job to be present. We both agreed it's hard to watch your child make a mistake and pick them up over and over when you can just finish the math problem they don't understand yourself. But it's all part of the process. My kids will tie their own shoes, do their own homework and fight their own battles. They will learn what it means to be able to count on yourself, hopefully sooner than I did. 

I'll always be close by. Learning presence. Even if it is sometimes from my blanket throne, I'll rest easy knowing I've taught them the important lesson of surviving on their own.

I'm no expert on the human condition, but I do know there's a lot to be learned through quiet observation; something I like to think I inadvertently have become more proficient at than the average person. Stay weird.  

A little Sunday morning Poetry

Tell them

Tell them
how excited you get to meet new people
you plan out your entire life together
before the first phone call.

Tell them
about your practice smile
the way it aches the muscles
on either side of your mouth.

Tell them
 how you mean well.

Tell them
how much everyone likes you in the beginning.

Tell them
how despite this you've gotten used
to everyone leaving.

Tell them
how easy to talk to
is the same thing
as easy to ignore.

Tell them
you've returned so many times
your laid back
gets sore.

Tell them
how each time you remember
to be yourself a little more.

Tell them
how much it hurts to always feel lonely
even worse 
to pretend you meant for it to be that way.

Tell them
how hard you push yourself
to supersede the criticisms
of everyone else.

Tell them
you still have faith
your person is out there waiting.
It's the one way you know
how to keep on living.

Tell them
 they don't have to be sorry.
Tell them
 you don't need saving.

-Emily A. Klein

Friday, October 2, 2015

Did you know Dan Aykroyd has Aspergers? Neither did I. Check out this list for a bunch of other interesting facts abouts celebrities with Aspergers and let me know what you think in the comments section below.