The Sociopath in Me

Quick note before I get into this topic, the blog will be changing as I go on, both in style, added whidges and content. If you follow my Twitter and Facebook (Plug, Plug), you'll already know that I wish to include more political posts as well as my own journey (there's only so much I can wax about my feet after all and on reflection I wouldn't be surprised if some people are thinking this is a foot fetish blog, and if there's one thing you never want is a fetish about MY feet). The reasons for more political posts are, you know, Trump and Brexit. I am a left leaning humanist, so if you don't like refugees and the EU and all that hippy consciousness then I suggest you skip these posts (I'll try to make to title obvious).

It is well documented that Aspergers and Sociopath are almost opposite in traits and have very little in common. However, this does not mean that parts don't over lap, or at least they don't in me. I have a well developed charm (it's the oIrish, I swear) and a fairly decent sense of humour. I only know these because I use them in work, or dating, or you know interacting with humanity. It's fairly clear from my blogging that I have no problem attracting girlfriends (the one I suggested I write the blog, the next one who distracted me from the blog and the current one, who's lost about the whole idea of blogging, three may not be a high score but I'm not studly macmuffin), but keeping them involves slightly more complex skills.

In my report, it states I can grasp the concept of a friend, but am unable to run the mechanics of friendship (you feed them and let them watch TV right?). The same, I at least believe, would apply to girlfriends (you feed them and let them mind your credit cards, right?). I'm like a toddler, I can be charming and sweet, but I'll lose interest once I have what I want, the precocious little scamp that I am. It has led at least one girlfriend call me a sociopath for being heartless and cold. It's not that I'm eaither of those, I just don't have the skills to build a relationship and do all those little things that make a relationship. Yeah, yeah typical man, insert woman not coming with a manual mysogonist joke here. Relationships take a whole load of little things, like friendship (so I'm told by numerous cutsey items in my local novelty gift shop), and it is doing those little things that I find hard without reminders, because that's not stereotypically male at all.

So, how does this superficial charm come in handy? Well, work. A bit of a charm offensives on customers does no harm at all but it also means that during inspections or any promotional work, the disabled worker can be trotted out and showcased as diversity in the workplace. My old manager used to joke that if I told everyone I was gay, it'd tick all the boxes and, I dunno, boost the company's image to the world, win us that all important award of the modern world: equal employment.  It gets a solid laugh in the office, even if it is cheap humour.

During inspections season I get brought out like a pinstriped dairy cow that makes chocolate milkshakes. I'm being superficial for laughs but I can't help but feel that I'm a boon to the company in diversity figures alone. The fact that I'm articulate and high functioning (go watch the video I shared to Facebook about that, it's funny because it's true) inspectors engage with me and think it's really nice the disabled employee is getting on so well. Of course they don't see the hours of work, the slog it has taken to get to this point, and I mostly forget the slog because I need space in my head for Simpsons quotes and D&D trivia (not that I've ever played a game, I'm not that lowbrow). Having a decent, if sarcastic sense of humour helps too, and like I said last week, British people are good at the dry wit stuff.

Going back to the girlfriend side, it's not that I'm heartless, it's that I don't feel love, or at least the jumble of confused emotions are unfamiliar to me and I am constantly unsure if it is love or just really bad gas. I made the girlfriend cry last night because I genuinely explained that I do not feel love, but I can fake it to a fair degree. It must be hard to fall in love with someone who cannot love you back, or at least will always be unsure of their feelings. My previous relationships, since diagnosis, I have explained the issue early on and those that can live with the idea that "I love you" is code for you are the one I hate the least and feeds my Aspy.

I'm getting de ja vu writing this, so i'm sure it's a topic I've covered before, but given my dementia and forgetfulness, its not  a bad topic to cover and I'm sure this will be updated regularly as people give me insight into my behaviour and traits.

Sorry about the delay, but no one reads this stuff anyway (hello MOTHER, I know you do) so no ones put out.

Follow the Aspy Journey on Facebook and Twitter, where I post interesting articles and updates (and reasons for skiving).

Next week, textures........

3,355

This is an older post I never put up, for one reason or another. Either way, I found it in my drafts and on the back of a report that states approximately 150 people have been caught using Blue Badges, usually friends or family, illegally, I think a revision of the subject is perhaps in order. (Cheap lazy blogging FTW, the italic part is from the original post, posted on 5/11/15. Two whole years, no ones going to notice!)    

So, I have most likely stated that I do not get any benefits as I am too fit. I am very grateful that I am fit enough to be able to work and not require state support. However, occasionally I like to play the game of "am I entitled" (spoiler alert, I never am).

Every time I drive past a bank of disabled parking, I do wonder if I could get a Blue Badge (for anyone not in the UK, a disability pass). I decided to try my luck. NONE of the criteria apply to me, as I can walk fair distances and I don't have a carer.

As an aside, a rep brought pedometers (seriously, hows that for a name?) in for the staff. The title of the post is the amount of steps I took between 12:45 and 22:00 today.


About the Blue Badges, the use of one, for me, would be a perk, if you get such a thing with disability. I walk for Ireland in work, usually try not to run and get to sit down occasionally, so a chance to park close to a shop entrance or car park stairwell is simply laziness on my part. There's a legion of wheelchair users or others who need crutches to get around (or the million of other reason easy access parking is a key to giving someone independence) who will benefit from one more free wheelchair space, especially when they are at a premium. I already feel like a fraud enough without using a badge to take the one space outside my local shops that'll cut my walk time from stopping to the chocolate aisle.

I was able to walk, albeit with a stumbling unco-ordinated gait, and the utter destruction of my shoes, before I got my lovely orthotics. They don't eliminate my toe drag entirely but they certainly correct a lot, including my leg co-ordination. My right leg, even outside of supports, doesn't swing out to help support and I don't stoop, throwing my body forward to drag my legs after me. Why am I waxing lyrical about them again now? Its because I'm unimaginative and have nothing interesting to talk about, and today is two years since I got them. Sure, they've been modded and, as you know if you have begun following again the reason I have started this blog, recently had a refrub, including brand new strapping and padding.  They have ached more recently, and marked my feet, or in the case of my left foot, cut a nice little hole, but thats because I'm an idiot and didn't realise the ALL the strapping had been renewed, which makes sense. If one snaps, then the others are at risk of being compromised and its worth the extra twenty minutes of work to give them two more years of life. And in that life, keep my legs together and prevent my leeching more money from the NHS.

I do miss being able to make physio have to lie down by watching me walk, but that's the price to pay for being able to buy decent shoes and have semi silent running (I've noted that since the refurb they no longer click so I can now sneak around like a T-rex in a toy soldiers exbit). They feel like second skin, and being out and about without them feels like nudity. There have been days when I have peeled the legs and my socks off and it genuinely feels like im down to exposed muscle, its a very weird.

So, onto my guilty addendum to this little update on my new pals. Shoes (SURPRISE you thought it would be something else, didn't you!). I buy Doc Martens for work. Doc Martens have a policy of replacing shoes that wear out too fast. The orthotics have eliminated MOST of the toe drag, true, but not all of it and shoes do wear down, within about six month.
Receipt in hand, I get new shoes. I can't feel that it's just a little cheeky: "Hey, I'm physically built in such a way that I end up with my toes poking out of the shoes, let me take advantage of your very generous policy". Even without the receipt, I've had replacements. It's a little conflicting. Free shoes but taking advantage of generous returns policy/ its a big corporation it won't hurt them, grab what you can.
Yes, I am aware that plenty of corporations (and some people) see us as walking wallets that use up valuable resources and don't give them enough money, but that the same time morals and values are shared and spread by doing to others. Ok so a little gullible to think that me having a minor moral conflict about using a company policy to my benefit while there's bigger issues out in the world but seriously, I am allowed to indulge my humanity. I'm a cold, uncaring creature anyway, so it's nice when I get a spike of guilt, because mostly I need to physically think, remind myself, that empathy is a thing and I should be using it (about ten seconds after I've missed the cue to engage empathy and be nice, so it seems I'm clawing back to the "I'm a kind, thoughtful, regular human under this mask" position). I covet those feelings, commandments be damned, and it's a very weird pleasure to feel the overwhelming guilt that I cram back down, that never reaches my face, that never shows the world its little face (there's the occasional smile, when I KNOW I'm caught, but it lets me slip from peoples grasp, melting their ire).

Do I continue the free shoe bonanza? Yes, as long as I buy a new pair too, some \doc \marten shoes are too pretty to wear, honestly.

Will there be ore moral preaching? Of course, I'm a judgemental cynical ass hole, of course I'm going to dig through my morals and take pleasure in picking apart my Aspy traits.

Sleep tight.

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Reasons for returns

So last week, I rather lazily announonced that resolution one of the new year was restart the blog. Oh God how I regret that now, with the sheer empty headedness that comes from not having anything to say.

Well, it's said you should write and see what comes out, a bit like when you up your hand over your mouth when you're afraid that if you open it the truth will fall out. So let's start with a story.

First week of the new year, I was running the department, rather than just being a lazy slacker as always. This involved both office work (yawn) and being on the production floor. Two hours into my day shift on the floor and I feel something give in my left shoe. Hobble to the work station and get shoe off. My left foot strap on my orthotic had snapped where the bolt connected to the foot plate. 

Fantastic.

I have no shoes that fit my feet as I go up a shoe size to fit the orthotics, I can't spend another ten hours on my feet trusting my shoe to hold everything together, and I certainly can't go home (OK, that did cross my mind, I'll admit, the thoughts of a soft sweet bed, all ready for me to fall back into, but then I've survived long enough in the work environment and life without the plastic supports, and I'll be damned if a little damage is going to make me a helpless cripple now). Kiwi, my Oz colleague, throws gaffer tape at me. Only one thing to do now.

So I bind the orthotic, strap and all, together over my foot, get my shoe back on and get moving. To say the new hire was a little aghast is perhaps an understatement but he laughed as I hobbled back out onto the floor.

So, with one broken orthotic I can't go on indefinitely, I need to call for repairs. Taking a break, I rang orthotics in QMC (Nottingham) who booked me nine am the next morning for repair. I jog round to the general manager and let him know. I'll be in to do essential office work but I must be in QMC for nine. He was fantastic, checked I was ok to continue and told me if there was any issues I could go immediately. 

Things get better: arrived to QMC for repair, they took my legs with a smile and told me about forty five minutes. Time for a hot chocolate in the cafe. Now, I should explain I wear three piece suits when I'm doing office work. I feel that dressing up shows respect for the role, fellow managers and the staff. Also doesn't hurt I look human in a suit. Three times in QMC I got asked if I was a consultant. Now I have no medical knowledge or skills, so an apologetic "no" was all I could give.

Forty minutes later, warm from tasty hot chocolate, I arrive back to be handed orthotics that had not just had a strap repaired but had all four straps replaced, and new padding both lining the joints and in the straps. It was a full service and over hall, I'm now whisper quiet when I move (they'd taken to clicking at the hinge joint when I walked). It was like getting an only car that's had a full over haul.

So, I've been wearing them for a week and I've hit the down side, new straps eat into my feet, but it's a small price to break them back in. I also bought socks of various types to go with my refurbed legs.

So why restart the blog? To impress people and measure my self worth through page views......

I joke, mostly, but I thought maybe this journey isn't over. It will never be over. And I think the blog was beginning to touch subjects and ideas that could be greatly expanded. 

So, a minor mishap to start a blog.

Until next time, silent tread.

P.s. I've started a linked Facebook page: The Aspy Journey Reloaded

P.p.s: there is now also a Twitter @theaspyjourneyreload.

Follow those for photos, links to other sites, watch me fail to understand Twitter (I might read Trump Tweets to see how it works, I understand it s about being a big baby)!