I’m crying, listening to the song This Time by August Rain, (below), over and over.
Since I was a little girl, in answer to prayer, I was told I was going to be experiencing a lot of trials in life but this would be in preparation to assist others. In February this angelic promise became reality. And I knew that all the pains I held were for a reason. There is no way to put this into words, only tears. If you could see my face, you would know. My eyes would tell you. Today is day 100 of my journey blogging. I have made friends and contacts around the world. Everyone has been supportive and kind. Everyone so beautiful. You have no idea what your presence means to me. I am healing with every set of eyes that hears my truth. Healing knowing, I’m at last walking in my calling. Walking in unity. I am no longer watching life from the sidelines.
This morning, as I wept, I spent some time in reflection, examining Your words. (Traits, 10 Traits, and 116 Reasons) I am gifting myself with feeling happy and celebrating…I am embracing my gift of my words and embracing the gift of your words. Here is a selection of what I am celebrating:
Your website is a huge comfort to me.
Can relate to most of it so well. It’s as if you had been spying on me from inside my mind!
Thank you for expressing words that I have not been able to and for helping me put words to things I have experienced, but didn’t know how to say.
I can’t get over how dead-on each aspect of this is. I feel printing it and handing out to every person in my life.
(Crying harder now!)
Wow. You have totally nailed this as far as my teenage aspie daughter..This was wonderful! I just laughed and laughed in self-recognition.
Oh my goodness. I can relate to so many of these, it’s as if everything is finally slotting into place…I’m just seeing the world through completely new eyes now.
This is amazing! You have written the most precise description of female aspies I have ever read (and I have read quite a lot about this!
I can find myself in all of your points, especially points 5,6 and 7. It’s almost scary how close your description fits me!
So many years spent lost and alone.
Oh. My. Goodness. When I read this it feels like you have had a secret camera filming me since the moment of my birth. Scary.
Thank you so much for this post. I’m going to use to help my partner and family get a better idea of “me”..I knew of a lot of them threw my daughters way of looking at the world,brought a big smile to my face,cant wait to show her
I thought I was alone in not being able to relate to what I look like!!!
Reading your post today was a confirmation for me that once again “I am not crazy” and neither are the rest of us.
So true…. Every damn word…. Beautifully written, thank you for this. I will share this with everyone who just doesn’t understand me.
This did help me understand more about my 27 year old daughter with aspergers.
This is pure brilliance…my daughters world makes so much more sense after reading this.
What you wrote was insightful. I always knew I was different.
I wanted you to know that finding and reading your blog and sharing the information with my husband has made my transition from misdiagnosed, hard to deal with, “crazy” person to a person who is actually like other people with explainable quirks and issues much, much easier!! And even though you are practically telling my life story her, I’m starting my own blog to shout out!
Wow, this describes my 11 yr old Aspie daughter perfectly, and I am grateful I can print this to show her.OMG!! I could almost go yea, uh huh, that’s me too! to every one of your items! Scary! I’m glad I’m not completely alone in this world!
All I can say is…. * * * * * wow * * * * * I feel sure that I’ve found the missing component of so much of who I am, who I’ve been, and what has greatly affected the at times harrowing journey I’ve taken…Today I don’t feel alone at all. Today I feel embraced.
Anyway the piece you wrote is brilliant I love it and so identify, I often feel isolated and alone and not accepted and I’m always looking for people I can connect with and who understand.
All of the moments when I felt as if only me and the person in my head understood life, became so much clearer.
I was crying by the time I got to number 4…This blog is the most spot on description of life as I know it that I have read so far.
There isn’t one single thing, not one, that you wrote that i can say “no, that’s not me”. It is ALL me, all of it. and it’s terrifying and a huge relief at the same time.
(Crying: Think Diane Keaton’s Crying scene without the French Music)
After reading your blog, I became totally obsessed with the possibility that I may be Asperger. I spent the entire day reading your posts, comments from readers, and googled other blogs on this subject. Then I chewed my husband’s ears off asking “so do you think?”
And when I finished reading your post above, it felt like finding a key I’ve looked 33 years for. Your post is almost verbatim my experience…I’m astonished.
And when I finished reading your post above, it felt like finding a key I’ve looked 33 years for. Your post is almost verbatim my experience.
This is me me me me me all over! Spooky how you seem to know my head inside out.
I think because of you I have finally discovered what has been so different about me my whole life. Thank you so much for giving me what might be my answer, I have no words to express the gratitude I have in my heart!
This article so closely describes my life that it made me cry – somebody out there really understands what it is like to be me, and I am not the only one of my kind.
Finding you is the first day of my life.
We are as one.
Behind The Door
There was a time of many tears
Encompassing a thousand years
To even glimpse a sense of joy
Seemed to me an endless void
Where emptiness entrenched a whole
Leaving still this shallow mold
Of whom I was supposed to be
Of all the hopes drained out of me
I searched for answers day and night
I prayed, I cried, I begged for light
Still nothing ticked that I could hear
And all I am near disappeared
What did remain, I did not know
But I continued, even so
I stood and watched from way down low
That part of soul that yearned to grow
Broken, shattered, touched inside
Broken, shattered, no place to hide
Decades passed, and still I tried
To cease the pain that bled me dry
No place to go, no one to ask
No way to understand my past
I lived it all, the shadows gray
Returning to the yesterdays
Every smell, the sound, the face
Could bring me back, to fearful place
And there was more, than one or two
Like the years, a thousand grew
The spots they shadowed up the sun
Siphoning away the fun
From pain to pain, I hopped my path
Never learning how to laugh
Swirls of black and blue and red
Stories that could not be said
Time he came, he watched, he left
Taking with him all the best
And where I looked, through windowpane
Spinning world passed by again
The rise, the fall, the nothingness
The dreaming more to not exist
Until in faith one seed appeared
And sprouted strong within the tears
To something more than I could see
From something bright and bold and free
This surfaced strong, a light to shine
A part no longer left behind
Seed rose with each and every word
I shared and screamed, I scratched and blurred
And in this way, the mirror I shook
So I could take another look
Of what was done, and what was not
Of what was lost, and what was sought
Of all the little treasures blind
Of all the nothings left behind
I walked, I trekked, I even flew
Passing by the girl I knew
The way in which she smiled deep
The way in which she made me weep
The precious one, heart pure as dew
I held her hand and one made two
And thus in words I found a trail
To wave one last goodbye to fail
The steps she made were never wrong
Her heart was always ever strong
Her wishes still she carried true
And in this way I grew anew
In strength the mourning broke and quaked
And love was lastly made awake
To forgive what was, to nod and rise
To finally claim the golden prize
Of seeing where I’d been and gone
Remembering the soft with strong
And now when chance I cross and glance
Another bled by circumstance
In truth, I choose to sit and be
To hold the hand and place the key
To understand that all that came
The hurt, the loss, engulfing shame
Is nothing more than moving brook
A song, a dance, a storybook
For what we are is so much more
Than what is locked behind the door
Samantha Craft 2012
Mother got absorbed into her own world, sucked up like water into a cotton ball, so in essence she was still there, yet her form was masked by something or someone else. One evening, I sat atop a long flight of stairs tethering my thoughts to a distant buoy. “They’ll be back soon,” I said. “It’s going to be fine.” My mother’s boyfriend’s daughter, Shara, stared at me with her big eyes and nestled in close to my side. I knew for a fact Mother would be back; she always showed up eventually.
A week ago I had stepped off of an airplane, after returning home from a two-day trip with my father’s parents, and Mother was nowhere to be found. I had ended up in the airport lost and found with the unwanted luggage, an oil painting of a lion I hadn’t wanted, and an uppity, impatient airline attendant for well over an hour.
This evening would be the same; Mother would return.
I let out a long sigh and echoed my mother’s words in my mind: Things could always be worse. From above where we sat The Santa Cruz’s Boardwalk’s sounds of sirens and children laughing, and the scent of sweet-buttered popcorn and fresh spun cotton candy drifted through the air. Down below on the lower steps, a sunburned mother flip-flopped up the concrete stairs tugging along her toddler.
Shara whispered, “I’m hungry.”
I answered with a pat to her shoulder and clamped my front teeth down on my chapped bottom lip. Another siren rang out across the boardwalk. Someone up above was a winner. I wondered what prize the person had earned. Where my prize was. I longed to sneak up to the crowd and disappear into another life, another family. One with a mother and a father who saw me, who understood me. I longed to ride the roller coaster and feel the wind in my hair—ride over and over and never touch ground again.
Shara began to cry, the tears sliding and glistening on her brown skin. I distracted her with a game. We’d count the towels on the beach. First there were several dozen, then less than twenty, and within the time it took a blond family of five to climb up the stairs, only two towels remained.
Long after the last two towels on the beach had vanished and the water of the ocean turned from pink to a dark murky gray, I heard the clomping sound of Mother’s secondhand clogs.
“Hi, Ladies,” Ben said. Shara charged her father, wrapping her arms around his stout legs. Mother and Ben smiled back, but not at us. They grinned at each other. I stopped picking at the sand in my scalp. I could smell Ben. Smell the same stench he left on our couch pillows, the same foul smell in the piles of laundry, the scent inside my mother’s bedroom of rotten day-old meat. I grabbed the railing and pulled myself up. Mother rubbed her clammy hand across my cheek. “I told you we’d be right back.”
I stared out blankly.
“What are those sad eyes for? The first place didn’t have the right kind. But I found these.” Mother pulled out a red pack of cigarettes. Her breath smelled like vodka. She walked back towards Ben with a staggering gait and extended the cigarette pack towards my direction. I was overly aware of the strangers passing us.
Mother leaned into Ben and rambled. She was talking fast again.
Ben spoke up. “Come on. Let’s go. I tell you, this is a damn tourist trap built solely to suck up your money—my money. I am not giving them another dime.” He grabbed Mother firmly by the hand. “What a waste of time. Next weekend we’re going back to the beach where people don’t act like puppets for greedy jack asses.” Ben led Mother by the hand across the causeway of the boardwalk underneath the wooden rooftop.
Shara followed in her father’s footsteps, seemingly oblivious to everything around her.
Ben picked at his shorts in the crack of his butt, then pulled up his chubby finger and sniffed. “Can’t people find better ways to spend their time?”
I followed in silence counting the wooden rafters above.
Mother turned my direction and belched loudly.
I could not feel my expression. Lagging behind a bit, I examined Ben and Mother as they strolled further down the boardwalk. There was no space between them. Sometimes when a man and woman walk together there is a bit of light that seeps through the gap where their bodies touch, but with Ben and Mother there was nothing.