"I'm not crazy. My mother had me tested."

This one might make you uncomfortable, but I share these experiences for you. We've all heard that representation matters, and its true. Reading and viewing other people's perspectives and experiences helped me realize who I am (time and time again.)

I'm autistic.

And most of might read that and think, Are you sure? You don't seem autistic to me. Yes. I'm sure. My therapist is sure. My kids and fiance are sure. And as a response to not seeming autistic, you're correct. I am extremely talented in suppressing my traits. I assure you, I am riddled with the tism.

Growing up, I think a word I heard most was "weird." In fifth grade, I tried to embrace it and be overly silly and fun with it so the teasing would let up. My mom would see me stimming and tell me to "quit being weird." Friendships have been intense and short-lived and relationships have been toxic due to my mannerisms in private. My latest ex treated me like a child for having support needs. But as I'm discovering, autistic people are inexperienced in a lot of areas. My anxiety over all the scenarios I would imagine when facing most experiences would keep me from going forward. I had the opportunity to move to Japan when I was a military spouse, but any time I considered the differences I would face there, I would panic. My body would shake with the loose energy and I'd feel like I was about to be buried alive. 

As a kid, my family likened my meltdowns and panic attacks to a helicopter taking off. A gradual increase in whining noises that got louder and more intense until it sounded like I could lift off the ground at any moment. I learned to hold my breath and stay silently still as I got older. I was 35 before I started anxiety medication and I think a lot of that delay was from downplaying my symptoms.

I've lied to almost every therapist I've had over the last 20 years. People pleasing was integrated into my personality that when asked how long I had dealt with depression, I would retract my answer of "always" when the pen started scribbling furiously and a look of concern emerged. I've lied to myself, too. Even when I'm alone I think about how I'm supposed to present myself and analyze my behavior from a neurotypical perspective. Is this music other people would like? Nobody wears that. Is my house clean enough? Over the years those thoughts evolved into wondering if I like things or if I only liked them because others did. I can't remember a time when I felt like I actually knew myself before now and its been an obsession for years. I've wondered about past lives and daydreamed about being an alien or fae creature and not knowing where I really came from because I've never felt at home here. 

And why should I? This country is not designed for autistics. I've never been able to hold a full time job because it's overwhelming and exhausting. Even sitting in the silence of my home right now, I can hear the conflicting pitches of electronics and the juxtaposition of the monitor against the soft lighting makes me uneasy. Forks are too thick. No one follows the rules of engagement at the grocery store. Pants are too constricting and the feeling of a sock seam under my toes makes me want to cry. I hate showering regularly because the infinite choices and steps following paralyze me. Do I wash my hair? If I do, then I'll need to dry it. If I dry it do I have time to style it? I'll have more laundry to do if I use another towel. On and on and on the "If you give a mouse a cookie" mentality rages until I'm profoundly sad and disappointed in myself. 

I'll be 40 in 6 months. I've spent 4 decades of my precious existence as a mimick and a chameleon trying to blend in. I'm giving myself permission to be autistic. I will not laugh when I don't understand your joke and I'll ask if you're being serious. I will rock on my heels and play with my fingertips when I'm happy. I will wear comfortable clothes that make me smile when I see them. I will not hold my breath when I feel the urge to echo the sounds and phrases I hear. I will not be afraid to ask for help or accommodations and I will not hold myself to the standards of others. I give myself permission to be proudly autistic and I give you permission to be comfortable in who you are, too.

Today's subject line quote is from Sheldon Cooper in The Big Bang Theory, s3, ep13 "The Bozeman Reaction."

"Here I am. . . the Too Much Woman, with my too-tender heart and my too-much emotions."

There is an article going around Facebook about  "The Too Much Woman."  I resonate with this, greatly.  It is me and I am unapologetic.  Why?  Because it's not "too much."  It's enough.  When something is a need, it's never too much. 

This is my existence--my truth in living.  I've never been any less than this type of woman.  And for that article to be a whole viral phenomenon, I'm obviously not the only one.  I dive in headfirst because I am fearless.  It costs me more energy to reign it in than it does to go all out.  I feel deeply and love hard.  And damn me for expecting the same. 

I struggle with believing an all-in style love exists.  But it must, because I'm it.  I'm here and I am the too much-just enough type.  There's got to be someone out there who can rival my force.  Someone worth my time and dedication?  I want enough.  I need enough.  I crave it with a hunger in my gut that radiates throughout my whole body. 

You might try and convince me that I should be that person for myself, and I'll agree.  I love myself with that passion, too.  I'm not needy in that way.  It's because I have such dedication and emotion invested in myself, that I want a love that will compete.  I refuse to give up and I will not settle. 

It will not happen right away.  I understand that and I don't ask that of my future partner.  But when we are there, it will be intense.  There will be lots of attention; your needs will not be neglected.  I give this vibe in all of my relationships when I care for friends and family, too.  I'll make you dinner.  I'll create art for your walls.  I'll answer your texts at 3:00 a.m. because you're awake and need someone to talk with.  I'm the woman who will send you a handwritten letter when you're down.  I'm the mom who stays up all night sewing costumes baking elaborate cakes because my kids deserve something great and I am capable of greatness. 

There's an air of vulnerability in this.  I've been taken advantage of, as most people have in their lives.  It's not a new concept that there are predators in our society.  But I'm stronger for it.  I heal quickly and have a high tolerance for pain. It's a superpower that accompanies feeling things so deeply and intensely.  It's inevitable to gain resilience to withstand the landing when one falls so far and fast. 

Today's subject line quote is from "The Too Much Woman" by Ev'Yan Whitney.

Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?

My sewing machine is a dick.  It's less than a week before Halloween and it's been jamming worse than the reggae they've been blairing at Toyota lately.  It's mostly due to the fabric of Willow's costume, so I'm made the decision to be a shitty mom and revamp the whole concept.  Instead of her being "Boo" in her monster outfit from "Monster's Inc.," I'm just putting her in a pink tee with purple leggings and pigtails, maybe a Mike Wazowski doll if I can get a hold of one in time.  My nanny, Tara, is dressing as Sully so it should be fairly obvious what we're going for.  I hope. 

I do feel really shitty for taking the super lazy route.  I used to be a Pinterest mom, now I'm an Amazon Prime mom...only with no money.  I know I'm not a bad mom, I just feel like less of a mother.  I mean, I did still save Willow from the horrors of hearing the bus outside our house again this morning.  That's something!

Wanna know what else I'm bad at?  Following through with the no dating thing.  It's been less than a week and I have a date on Friday.  Granted, it's a follow up date from back in July.  So maybe it doesn't count against me on the front of not actively trying to date?  Cut me some slack!  You all are entertained, I'm sure.  At least this guy never tried to mansplain how a fork works.  (Yes, that happened and it was the shortest date I've ever been on).  In fact, it was a rather memorable time and I'm looking forward to recreating it.

Today's subject line quote is Black Phillip, "The Witch."

"Son, you got a panty on your head."

I wear many hats--the figurative ones.  My hair is too short for literal hair coverage at this point, though the 20's style cloches are probably my favorite thing to buy and never wear.  Regardless, I'm talking about the multiple aspects of myself that I have to take off and put on at different times, the parts of myself that often clash with whatever else I'm wearing or carrying at the time.

My mom hat had a terrible dream last night that left me in tears when I woke.  I had to check on my babies and when Willow woke up, I held her so tightly.  I think we both needed that extended snuggle.  In my nightmare, she went missing.  Nobody could figure out who had seen her last and part of me is still terrified to leave her side this morning, much less send her to daycare this week.

Whatever hat is responsible for self care keeps flying off and making me chase it down the street. I just peeled off the remainder of my gel nail polish, here at my desk, in some sort of anxious fit of boredom and embarrasment of them chipping.  It is a well known fact that I feel naked without nail polish, so I'm not sure what possessed me to think scratched up, bare nails was a brilliant alternative to a couple flaking. 

I'm pretty sure my work hat is just a propellor beanie.

Halloween's got my crafty hat on standby.  I keep procrastinating and now have both Willow's costume to begin, much less finish, as well as an adult Zapp Brannigan circa Futurama that I promised my friend Dan.  I also need to practice my makeup for my costume and make a kickass pumpkin cake for work.  All exciting endeavors, but slightly stressful trying to get it all finished between work and parenting. 

Lately, I've worn a dunce cap in the fact that I'm probably a phone/social media addict.  I'm an obsessive texter and many of you have fallen victim to my incessant communications.  I just get so bored when I'm wearing my stupid work beanie that I reach out, a lot.  A LOT.  So if I've been annoying the shit out of you lately, #sorrynotsorry. 

Finally, my whole point of hat talk is that I think I'm going to hang up my dating hat for a while.  I start school in 3 weeks, so that will help fill whatever void I'm feeling between not dating and retiring from derby.  In the mean time, I'm going to be dating myself.  Focusing on treating myself well and building that relationship.  My most recent blog topic left me pretty raw, as well.  So it might be good to take some time to reflect on those experiences.  I deserve some devoted attention and I'm going to be the one to give it to me.  So wish me luck that this one works out because the breakup will be a bitch.

Today's subject line quote is from "Raising Arizona."

Silencing women silences justice

Can we take a minute to talk about the whole #MeToo movement?  Because I want to talk about it, but I can't.  Trauma isn't something you announce to the world.  It makes everyone squirm because it's uncomfortable to think about.  It often makes people defensive because nobody wants to think about themselves being assaulty, but it's easier than you think. Survivors have different reactions and mixed emotions to revisiting the idea of harassment and assault, so navigating it publicly is difficult.  But I feel, just like with mental health advocacy, that the taboo surrounding sexual assault needs to be addressed. 

For me, there is a lot of guilt.  I feel like there is more I could have done to prevent it.  My body betrays my mental state.  It doesn't seem to matter that I've made my intentions clear, because he will take it as an invitation to continue.  "I'm not in the mood/interested/etc." becomes a battle cry to get me to change my mind.  I've been told, "I can't help it, I'm just so attracted to you" by multiple men.  I've been told to be careful with my words because it's a "serious allegation against a man" and that I should be really sure I'm not the one to blame. 

Am I sure?  No.  I never will be.  I'm sure there is more I could do.  Should I never drink alcohol with a date?  Maybe.  Dress more conservatively?  Sure.  Stop hanging out with male friends alone?  Perhaps.  Am I too polite?  Certainly.  And my fight or flight response is actually to freeze.  So often when I'm scared, I get a deer-in-headlights approach to the situation. 

The fact of the matter is, telling the person I'm spending time with (whether on a date or just as friends because it's happened regardless) that I don't want to engage in sexual activity, for whatever reason, should hold merit.  I should not have to justify myself.  I do not believe that I need to continue to hold onto my convictions throughout the night.  It should not be a challenge to get me to let go of whatever reasoning I have.

I should not be nervous to spend time with my male friends and worry about my ability to maintain these relationships, but I am.  There's a broken sense of trust when you don't feel heard.  There's an imbalance of power that makes it hard to accept that I'm an person with an equal voice. 

This has been the most challenging blog I've ever written because I both want to be personal about my experiences and yet not out my aggressors.  Partly because the relationships are complicated, partly because I don't want the backlash of blame. Maybe it wasn't how I recall it?  Maybe it's not as big of a deal as I'm making it out to be?

But the biggest take away from this, is that it is more common than one might think.  I'm constantly dealing with unwanted attention in what should be professional settings.  There have been moments that I'm taken less seriously because of my gender.  And most importantly and even recently, I've been exposed to unwanted sexual advances that have left me uncertain of my own mental state and feeling less than dignified.  And it's occurred multiple times.  That's enough to make me concerned it is more me than them.  And that's terrifying.

Today's subject line quote is from DaShanne Stokes.

Courage is knowing what not to fear.

I watched the film Critters last night, for the first time in at least 20 years.  In retrospect, my childhood favorites were all somewhat inappropriate content for my age group.  But I LOVED scary movies as a small child.  When I was four, my favorite movie was Poltergeist.  And to prove how weird I am to a whole 'nother level, I'll admit that my favorite toy was to play with plastic Easter eggs as people.  Kind of like Weebles, but without faces.  I named all of the yellow ones "Carol Ann" because she was blonde. 

So basically, I've been desensitized to all horror, gore, and otherwise spooky happenings.  I do not flinch in movies, I do not jump at haunted houses, and I do not scare easily...ever.  I release spiders back into the wild, unless it's a widow and then I'm fashioning a blow torch out of hairspray and a lighter.  I've faced snakes armed with a plastic sack and a spatula, before.  I even jumped cones my first night on rollerskates.  You. Can't. Scare. Me. 

What're your scariest moments?  What made your heart race?  Movies, television, novels?  That one time you and your gay friends got chased through a cemetary by a bunch of homophobic rednecks?  Wait...that one hjappened to me.  If it's media related, I'll watch it and film my reaction.  I am up for a challenge!  Please scare me this Halloween.

If you can get me to react, I'll give you a prize.  A good one.  Like, I'll make you something one-of-a-kind! 

Today's subject line quote is Plato.

Money won't create success, the freedom to make it will.

Sorry if I've been vague-booking my mood on social media lately.  My confession?  I'm not good with math and my budget is shit.  Unless some financial miracle happens, school will be back to being a daydream.  I've applied for another type of student loan that might cover the rest of the cost of school, but it doesn't change the fact that I'll be taking a pay cut to work part time.  I've got a lot of little things that I could cut out to save some cash, but it's going to be difficult. 

I'm not a couponer.  I don't follow budgets well.  I don't track my spending hardly at all.  I'm basically a 33 year old teenager after getting her first job.  Look at all the monies I have!! I will spend it on Rockstar energy drinks and Amazon Prime!   But in all seriousness, my entire paycheck goes to childcare.  This whole school shindig is supposed to help me establish a real career where I could, potentially, afford to live without being completely dependent on support payments from my ex. 

But, I do live in Hoighty Toighty, CA USA.  Things are fucking expensive here and I'm a spoiled brat who is shitty with money.  I can do this.  Right?  I can totally reign in my inner Millennial and tighten up.  Though my essential bills like medications and electricity are pretty heavy.  I worry about those, too.

I also need to be patient with myself.  I'm working from the ground up and I've already upgraded my job once in the last year.  I was making minimum wage at a grocery store seven months ago and have already negotiated my wages up a dollar past starting pay for my current job.  I've been a stay-at-home mom my entire adult life outside of college until now.  I'm in the same category as a young adult who just moved out of her parent's basement.  I shouldn't expect my life to be together yet.  And sometimes life isn't put-togetherable.  Maybe a career with house and a car and a daily Starbuck's addiction isn't an attainable goal?  Time to shift some expectations and grow up.

Today's subject line quote is from Nelson Mandela.