My obsession.

The most popular Aspie trait that gets showcased by TV and the recent Movie, The Accountant (which I will not be reviewing thanks, ) is that to make up for the social awkwardness, crippling inability to interact and occasional difficulty finding and keeping gainful employment, all Aspies have a specialised hobby or trait. This can either be something that makes the audience put their hands up and yell "quirky!" or it can be a hyper-analytical mind that can dissect any problem and find an out of the box solution. I guess it gives NT types a warm fuzzy feeling that even though these weird people walk among us, at least they have their uses for society or can be relatable as the one kid in class who thought the history of the penny from 1974 to 1982 was important.

Sadly, idiot savant and Aspie don't over lap as much as we'd all like. Many Aspies are just regular humans with a different brain make up. Ask any one legged dog if different equals better and they will tell you no, although most dogs don't care as long as there's kibble and bits and maybe a post man to bark at, I don't know, having never been a dog and only occasionally enjoying the company of dogs, and post men. This means that more often than not, social anxiety is not cancelled out by some great ability to count cards or meld with technology.

So, aside from trains (OK, not that deeply but come one, technology) and toy soldiers, what do I obsess about? Money. Or change more exactly, and what I can do with it (buy more toy soldiers!!). Or you know, put it into savings. It's watching my savings grow, in multiple accounts, and seeing how much I can get before the money needs to be spent. It's reached the level that its hard to release the money for stuff I need, like dental work (you're welcome)or buying  a car. You know, stuff I might actually benefit from owning. So, when people say I am a contributing member of society, yeah, the building society.

This should then translate into a need to gain said money through any means necessary, right? (this is called foreshadowing kids, so NO ONE can complain when I start doing Patreon or putting ads on my blog). Well no, because money is nice but trade offs are required. Could I work a full month with no days off? Yes, but by the end of it "offensively aspie" is redundant. Could I be working in a job that pays £50K+ a year? Maybe, but I lack the imagination to know what kind of job makes that money or how to get into it (trading stocks, the hell?). Can I ask for it in job interview? Maybe, but there is nothing more off putting than someone in interview demanding money or a raise on the basic offer. Knowing how hard work is to gain for Aspies, I'm mindful that while I can change my lott in life, maybe accepting the things I can't change immediately is a good plan. You may have guessed I'm currently being interviewed for a new job and this topic has resurfaced while dealing with my new employers (I stay stum about money, it's nice to have, but not a factor in getting or keeping a job).

I also love my tech. My Lord, technology. If I don't have at least two gizmo's on the go at once, I'm either sick or asleep (or driving, let's be reasonable here). But that's for another post.......


Check out some other stuff fo distract you from work: Facebook, Twitter, Patreon (made you look)

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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beyond offensive

So, this post did open with a joke about having no prep, and not keeping notes and how I was winging it. Yeah, well, I had just finished the saga the post became and BAM! the app died and lost my entire thing. I won't lie, there was am iPad smashing melt down and I needed a few hours to distract myself. I will try to remember the original content as much as possible but all that springs to mind is some cheap Donald Trump jokes (don't worry, after his treatment of the disabled, they're staying).

Anyway:

Four times a year I work on a camp site. It's a lot of fun, but it also involves long long days, mostly starting at about nine am (or sunrise, if there's a problem) and running right through to about three am. It can be hours of dullness that needs to be filled with self provided entertainment (mostly in the form of taking the piss out of colleagues and eating), interspersed with various odd jobs. It can be stressful, as issues arise and I resist slapping people (its not "customer friendly" apparently), but it is hours of fun. As you might imagine, this can create an environment where Aspy traits can be exacerbated, and expressed in a slightly less than ideal situations, as tiredness and stress are major factors in loss of control.

The boss, Bee, is a skilled people person and has a good knowledge of any and all of my conditions. She often spots the beginnings of melt down, or the effect of tiredness on my ability to interact with customers, and provide a level headed response (without the aforementioned slapping). In these instances, she knows I need to be relieved and sent to my tent for a good nights sleep (I'll be in my bunk is said more times in a day than I care to count, usually to something repulsive). She has come up with a name for this situation, my deterioration and increased need to get away from social situations. That phrase?

"Offensively Aspy"

Hold! Stop. No, do not jump to comments to tell me a blog I've set up to spread awareness about Cerebral Palsy Aspergers is using something you find upsetting. Communication in Aspergers is vital, as many Aspys miss social cues, detest sarcasm and simply can't read between the lines. (I've blogged about communication here). The phrase "offensively Aspy" is a fast, effective, short hand to sum up my current behaviour and is an easy instruction to both myself and the team for what has to happen next (I get to go eat and go to bed). I am, obviously, unaware that things are going badly, so a quick verbal cue gets me out before something goes really wrong and there's fences to mend (or ignore in grumpy ways).

So what happens when I hit peak traits? When there's no Bee to tell me to get to bed? I go completely non-verbal. Total silence. It's as if my jaw clamps shut, the nerves refuse to work and my voice box packs it in. At the same time, my internal voice ramps it up to eleven. I swear its Donald Trump acting like a lobotomised gorilla at a rally (OK, so acting like himself), loud enough for the person next to me to hear it. It's like my own boom box, and it goes right up my nose, because it says everything I wish I could verbalise. Last time it happened, my local shop worker commented that I always put food in for the Food Bank and how sweet I am for it. I COULDN'T PHYSICALLY THANK HER, so I smiled (and thanked her a few days later). I can guess this is how it feels to be non-verbal all the time, and as part of that I find texting valuable (have yet to text anyone "help I can't talk"). It's a basic coping mechanism used in non-verbal but because I have high functioning Aspergers, my verbal skills are generally good (I pass my sarcasm off as dry wit and the British eat it up). It also only lasts until after I've slept, so it's clearly a transient phenomenon (someone told me big words make me look clever).

So, thoughts to ponder.  In silence......

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Yes, I know i said Sunday, but after last weeks schedule issue, I'm putting it up now.....

  

Hidden

Ok, so that last post was a little lacklustre. Mostly caused by a lack of thinking critically (like all of life's problems) and my current ill health, it only skimmed the surface of my control issues and how I both misuse them and switch between various personas and shields to both protect myself and appease others. While that is a topic I will come back to after further thought and examination (and examples), I want to talk a little about how intellectual disability is often hidden, although from my "twice now" post, I can either walk when I am tired or wear my stylish glasses.

Dyslexia, dyspraxia and aspergers are all variously hidden. There's no guide dog acting as my life companion or a wheelchair, which is so synonymous with disability it is used as the national symbol for disabled access or services or parking. Although, reading that last part, a dog life companion sounds fairly awesome.

Before I continue I want to just go off on a slight tangent. I am incredibly lucky. Occasionally I feel that this blog could very well devolve into a whine fest, full of the internet popular "white whine" although, perhaps more a "disabled whine". (Although, maybe disabled wine might sell like those monks booze). I have both natural luck and family luck. The ins and outs of my history doesn't make good reading, but being able to produce a blog at all is a minor miracle, and having escaped one fate, even with caveats of disability, cerbral palsy, dyslexia, dyspraxia and aspergers, I have all four mildly. I am not wheelchair bound (although I will joke that is my destiny), I am variously able to write, read and while I am delightfully uncoordinated, I can drive (who just gave up driving for life?). I do blend in to regular neurotrophical society with remarkable ability. Some of it is self taught, some of it is cultural, a lot of it is excellent parent support, people being very understanding (being given out to for calling myself a retard by colleagues, college professors, partners and others is both hilarious and disappointing). Right after that foreshadowing paragraph, let's continue.

Being able to "hide" helps mostly, I don't suffer perceived discrimination or snide comments. The idea recently that there are levels to every disability certainly applies to me. George Takei, a  man I love not just for his Star Trek fame and roles, but his championing of gay rights and his highlighting of uncomfortable truths about the American WW2 record, was hounded for sharing a meme of a wheelchair user standing to reach alcohol (whether this is right or wrong I will leave to my readers) but it highlighted that disability is not a black or white issue. Anyone with a disability is very capable of doing anything. It is not disability, but this ability. We can do more than we are often credited for. 

This issue is turning into a delightful minefield, you may want to pretend to be a penguin at home.

The story that jumps to mind is one from a text book from my youth. The tale of two ladies who go for coffee every week, and the lady in the wheelchair is talked about, not to, as staff ask the "able bodied" lady "does she take milk?" 

Because I blend, it is when I open my mouth that I give myself away. I have gotten better at this, silence being a safe refuge, or topics of bland yet not weather related subjects. I often find the party trick of when surrounded people you don't know at a party, ask questions and make others talk about themselves, thus making the silent approach acceptable as someone tells you facts about their lives. This lets me soak facts for later use, both with that person and when bored in work I can leave my colleagues baffled.

My ataxia is now beginning to signal something is wrong, and to trained eyes it is a fairly obvious sign of cerbral palsy. I am hoping my exercises will minimise my ataxia and the delightful obviousness of my condition. Still, joking that I shouldn't be allowed make the tea and carry it to the office does tKe the sting out a bit.

Right, that's a solid page for now, plenty to revisit I am sure. Goodnight.