Balloons

Growing up, we had a two-story-height roof in a mostly 1 story room, and balloons would escape and just float up to the roof, unreachable but still visible if you looked up. Even the adults couldn’t catch them, because even my parents didn’t have thirty-foot long arms. The balloons would just sit there for days, above our couch and our table and our living room. Eventually, they would float back down to the ground, but by then they would be sad-shriveled-not-floating balloons. The fun was in the floating and the bobbing and the magical-THIS-BALLOON-IS-FLYING.

That’s where all my thoughts and ideas are. I forgot to hold on to them or I miss the chance and they float away up to the ceiling. They are there, but by the time they come back to me, they are sad and are missing the parts that I was interested in. I miss posting things on here and figuring them out by writing about them. I figure so many more things out by writing them, but I keep missing the chance to grab them. There are tons of half-floating ideas that I think of when I am biking to school or walking to the bus or somewhere else. They are half-remembered ideas just out of reach and it’s frustrating.

  • I have ideas about sensory overload and spoons on crowded buses home, but then I am too tired to write them down, and they float back up to the ceiling.
  • I have a half-developed theory on my ideas and thoughts on Appropriate Social Behavior and eye contact and my semi-autistic family.
  • There’s something I remember on my bike half a mile into the trip about keeping Bad Thoughts Out.
  • There’s something about executive function and what bits and pieces I have and what bits and pieces are broken.
  • Some more bits about thinking in general.
  • There are other ideas there, too far away to work out what they were, but they are still there, hitting up against the top of the roof, bobbling around in my brain. 

I can tell they are there, but I can’t tell what they are. I want to be able to reach out and pull them down and figure them out. I want to classify  my thoughts and order them out so I can figure out how and what I’m thinking. And whenever I succeed in grabbing them, they are only half-there. It’s the sad old not-flying balloons. The essential part that made them good and interesting and desireable has diffused out.

I’m doing fine, generally, in life, but busy with TAing and actual lab work and grant writing and literature reviewing and wedding planning, and I just don’t have the tools available now to reach up and pull down those thoughts. I want to be able to figure out how to grab onto them right away so they can’t escape to the roof immediately, to take them and run to my normal-sized-roof room right away, where even 5 year old me can reach the string of the balloon if I stand on a chair. But I don’t have thirty-foot-long arms to reach the ones on the ceilings, and they always appear when I can’t grab onto them. It’s a minor annoyance. I don’t need balloons. I can get along fine without them. But they make life better and I want them.

Creating my own standards

This is not relevant to this article, but it was one of the earliest images that popped up when I googled the title of this post looking for a good image. And I really do love xkcd, and I didn’t come up with a better image for this, and I prefer to have images in my posts, so I am sticking with it. Because it’s always good to have a bit of fun in there. 

 I’ve been struggling a lot lately, with prelims and lab choosing and moving and a million pieces of life (which is why I haven’t written much in August). Errands and jobs and tasks that require communication and planning and new skill sets. There is the constant low level anxiety about being in a new place right now, which uses up spoons just existing until I get adjusted into life here.

And I’ve been trying to keep up with graduate school and doing my best and trying to make a good impression so that people like me and let me into programs. And maybe I have been trying my hardest and maybe what I have been is good enough.

Or maybe it isn’t. I sort of think that I should be trying harder. Trying to improve myself and be better. There are always things I need to work on.

Today I read this (emphasis mine):

“I feel as though many of our autistic kids can never escape from this idea that they must always be being corrected; must always be being taught; must always be building on skills; must always be attending therapies and classes; must always be being “consistently disciplined”; must always remember every second of every day that they are autistic and that they have so much to learn, so far to go, so much more that they need to be.”

~“Are We Trying To Hard To Teach Our Autistic Children”, Suburban Autistics (Also read the rest of the article, it’s great!)

There are so many things I need to work on. I identify a new area where I struggle when talking with boyfriend and he says “ok, we can work on that”. But if we add up all the things that “we can work on” then I don’t know how I have any time in the day to actual get my work done*. I can’t always be working on not panicking or working on not hiding my face or working on one of the million other things I struggle with that are things that need to be done to be professional and successful and effective at communicating and get things done.

And then I get overwhelmed by the amount of things I have to do and it is a horrible positive feedback loop that just spirals out of control.** And that is no help at all and does not lead to more things getting done.

I have to remember I am the one who is creating the standards for my behavior. I can make them reasonable.

As long as I get by, I am doing ok.

I need to eat. I need to do reasonably well in grad school so that I don’t get kicked out. I need to pay bills and pay rent. I should try and avoid going into debt. As long as I stick to that, I am doing ok. It is fine if I watch a lot of tv. Or if I hide in my room and don’t talk to people. Or if I do talk to people. Or if I don’t exercise. It is all ok. I am surviving.

On days I remember that, I am fine. I am more productive. I am happy. Of course, determining what “reasonably well” means is a whole issue on itself…

~~~~~~~
*They are usually things that I do need to work on, like being able to make appointments or go to the doctor or go to a meeting or such things.
**I really want to say a negative feedback loop, but that is wrong. A negative feedback loop will turn itself off or regulate levels, because it negatively effects itself. A positive feedback loop builds on itself and increases and increases. One biological example of a positive feedback loop is peeing.

Hiding

There’s been finals and papers. I’m going home Monday.
I have to figure out which lab I am joining at some point.
I HAVE TO FIGURE OUT WHICH LAB I AM JOINING.

AKA WHERE I AM GOING TO SPEND THE NEXT 5-7+ years of my life doing science.

Scientists are bad at communication
but so am I
(because I am a scientist)
so that has all been a stress-mess of no one knowing what is going on
Every time I have talked to someone it has become a bigger mess. So I will be leaving Monday for two weeks probably with no real idea of what I am going to do when I get back.

For the last week or so,  I have had to step evenly on every crack on the sidewalk on my way to work or else my feet get uneven and that is bad. Even when I wear my big thick running shoes, even when I don’t look down, I can tell. (And the sidewalks are horribly sized sections so there is no good way to walk… it’s about one and a half strides per block no way to make it even ever). So it’s been a tough week.

So in the midst of procrastinating on this work, I have been posting some posts. But then I’ve also been reading other ones. And I got worried so incredibly worried about hurting other people. I would rather a million times be forced to the point of hiding and stress and bad things than hurt someone else. I contemplated deleting everything I have ever written. I contemplated just deleting some posts. I contemplated adding disclaimers to everything ever. So in this panic, I decided that the easiest temporary solution was to just hide it all. Not to delete anything or edit anything that I might regret later. But to just block it all from everyone but me.

So I changed my privacy settings, and tried to forget about it, because I had other things that I needed to worry about this week.

So I hid from the internet for a while.

Because hiding is one of my favorite defense mechanisms. It isn’t really the best one, in terms of effectiveness or long-term-effects or really defensibility, but it is easy when things are hard. And it is a way to postpone things until brains can work again.

This morning, I realized that maybe I should have said something about why I went away, but I didn’t know how to have just one page publicly available. I tried initially when I hid things, but it was too much and I just needed things to be hidden and safe. Because if no one can read what I write, no one can get hurt. So this morning I posted on facebook a rather delayed message about my hiding.

But, I think overall this blog is a good thing. It’s good for me. I’ve made friends through it. (As boyfriend said in his infinite wisdom and good words ability) I’ve ” learned a lot about yourself and gotten good affirmation and confirmation over the blog.”So I will change the privacy settings back so that anyone can read it again. I will keep up my posts. I will be ok with the fact that some posts are messy, that some things I have are rough ideas, that the writing is not always perfect. I will try to come back from hiding, because avoiding good things does not seem like a way I want to come back from life.

“And if people get upset they don’t have to read it”

#AutismPositivity2014

I wanted to participate in the Autism Positivity Flash Blog this year, but of course, I figured out that it was happening when I started to see the earliest posts head up. So it may be a bit short. Or a bit list-like. But I like lists. So that is all good.

I am autistic. Of course, I find it difficult to separate what is awesome about me because of being autistic. And what is awesome about me because of just being me. They aren’t separate things, necessarily. So what follows will be a few things that I think about when I think about autism:

  • When I think about autism, I think about moving. I think about happiness. I get extremely, jumpy, flappy, excited over things like daffodils and GFP. Or the beautiful collie I saw walking the other day. I think about how lovely it is to fully express happiness, to have it bubble up through my whole body. When I am happy, it is obvious. I have never seen any point in hiding happy. When I am happy, I share it with the world.
  • When I think about autism, I think about brains. My brain is autistic and it can do amazing things. I mean, brains are pretty amazing to begin with. They do everything. Right now I am thinking about how the my brain is telling my hands to move to type these words which also means that my brain is responsible for me thinking about me thinking and on and on and on in an incredible loop.
  • When I think about autism, I think about the Amazing Autistic Community I have found and the amazing new friends I have made.
End of Story–but not really… the list goes on and on and on and on and on and will keep going, even if I don’t add on to it here. (But if you want to see more Expressions of PosAutivity, CLICK HERE!)

Blogging Belonging

Dear Autistic friends,

You are all wonderful.
Thank you so much for making a place I fit in.
I love the internet.

I’ve usually had some places where I’ve felt like I’ve fit in. I am from a very close extended family, where most of the cousins are within a five or so year age range. And there’s a fair number of us, and we’re pretty strange (#MySemiAutisticFamily is what boyfriend calls it to differentiate from the other very normal apparently side of the family). We all grouped together and played the strange games kids come up with when they have little adult supervision (or think they have, anyway. Our parents were pretty sneaky.) So I’ve always felt like I’ve belonged with these cousins.

But eventually you enter the real world, where you sometimes (or closer to almost-always) have to interact with people that you are not related to. And that is when I started to realize that things were different. And as my cousins have grown up, and dispersed to different jobs and countries and medical schools and places without reliable internet, and developed lives outside of family, it becomes more and more necessary to talk to people you are not related to.

But the great thing about cousins* is that even when you haven’t seen each other in months or years, once you put yourselves together again, it is just the same as the last time you spent a week straight together hiking and going to Trader Joe’s.

And as my life grew less and less structured, and I had to spend more and more time away from family, as I moved into high school and college, as I had more and more responsibilities and more and more interactions and more and more strangers, I got more and more alone. I started to realize that I was different. And that it wasn’t always the good different (I always knew I was better than a lot of people at math for instance). I started to realize that things that were incredibly difficult for me were sometimes things didn’t even realize they had to do.

I got more and more lost.

Even though I made some amazing friends, there was still something missing. My other friends seemed to like each other more, because they were always hanging out (eventually I learned the formula for initiating hanging out, unfortunately just in time for graduation).

And then I figured out (or started to figure out) this whole autism thing. And it’s like finding a whole new branch of cousins. People who understand me, who have the same stories and history. Even though there are so many ways and differences in life and life circumstances. There was still the sense of almost easy familiarity that I have with my cousins.

And it has made my life better. I still have struggles, but I have a place of belonging. I have a place with answers. A whole new place to turn for advice.

So,

Internet people, thank you.
Thank you for being here and being there and being so similar.

Blogs are weird things, where we share secrets with the whole world and make friends with strangers that we have never seen, who know things about us maybe even our closest friends don’t know. I was initially skeptical.

Thank you to E. at The Third Glance, where I first realized I could be autistic because I could see myself in almost everything she wrote. When I first realized that there might be a category for my different, that maybe it was an actual difference, not just a character flaw.Thank you to autisticook for adding me to her list of autistic bloggers. That was AMAZINGLY INCREDIBLE  Because it was belonging and sort of the first confirmation that other people acknowledged me as autistic. That I could join the internet community. Thank your Nattily at Notes on Crazy for all her helpful app knowledge and suggestions and helpful hints to make life better.

And there are so many other people.

So many amazing people.

And fitting in and talking and community and happiness.

Thank you, semi-strangers that I met on the internet.

You are amazing and you have made my life so much better.

Sincerely,
Alana

~~~
* I want to make it clear here that this is probably not actually a generalizeable statement. It is really refering specifically to my cousins, although I do know other people who also have this experience.

Just another reminder that autistic children grow into autistic adults

I’ve been seeing so many posts today about autistic children, so so so so many. And that is just from the brief facebook browsing breaks I have been taking when I am supposed to be designing primers at work. I (mostly) have not been actively seeking it out. And sure, children are adorable, and you can put up really cute pictures of them which you can’t really do for adults, but the story is incomplete. (Not to say that autistic children are not important and wonderful, as well.) Autistic children grow into autistic adults.

sleepwakehope 1 in 88 people. Autistic children grow into autistic adults.  TOM WILLIAMS. I thought their lifespans were significantly shorter. Labrynithia. Autistic people have normal lifespans. You may be thinking of something like Down Syndrome, that is associated with serious health concerns. Autism is (mostly) just associated with neurological differences. Nine to five workday. And even for people with Down syndroe, that has (and is) changing for the better. In 1929, most people with Down syndrome lived to be 9., maybe 10 years old 18 years later it jumped to 12-15 years old. Today, 44% will live to be 60.
This is from the comments on a NPR article Jump In Autism Cases May Not Mean It’s More Prevalent.
Admittedly, I should really know better than to read the comment sections of things like this (AND EVEN
MORE TO I SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO COMMENT WITHOUT TRIPLE CHECKING THE
NUMBER), but actually it wasn’t as bad as it could have been (and people didn’t even fuss about
 the number-typo).

And then I happened onto the NPR comments for this article and decided that maybe I will take an optimistic view that people honestly just don’t know that it is possible for autistic children to grow up (if you count lack of knowledge as the optimistic view). For people who don’t think about autism much, maybe it isn’t too much assumption that people with autism have significantly shorter lifespans. After all, it is compared to cancer and life threatening diseases so frequently. It is painted as a horrible horrible thing that tears families apart and it is full of doom and gloom and ominous signs. Maybe it makes sense then that people don’t realize that autistic children grow into autistic adults.

But they do.
Regularly and frequently.

And I think the world needs another quick reminder that autistic children grow into autistic adults. (And mostly, I want to tell everyone who posted something about autistic children today (well, I suppose they mostly posted about children with autism, technically) that autistic children grow into autistic adults. But I am not brave enough to do that, to publicly link my name with autism yet, with any sort of phrase or words where people who know me vaguely might hear and notice. I am not yet comfortable or confident enough in this new identity to tell people I know.

So I am going to tell the anonymous world of the internet, through a method not attached to my real name.

Autistic children grow into autistic adults.
Autistic children grow into autistic adults.
Autistic children grow into autistic adults.
Autistic children grow into autistic adults.

And here is just a brief smattering of some of the lovely autistic adults (well, blogs by autistic adults) that are out here on the internet. It is largely incomplete. I know there are so so so many more people that I have missed (and if you would like to be added to the list, or feel I have missed someone who should be on the list, just comment or email me and I can add you). (Or if you would like to be taken of the list, I can do that, too.)

(Some) Blogs by Autistic Adults

Correlation, Causation, Happiness and Imperfect Metaphors

I’ve been analyzing patterns of happiness, and trying to identify ways to stay happy (well, non-depressed, more precisely. I am fine with being unhappy, or not-happy, or bored, or things such as that because those are part of a range of human emotions, so they happen). 

All I have is correlative data, and so I cannot conclude any causation. But I’m going to hash out a couple things, and maybe make unfounded extrapolations, and use a bunch of probably-unclear-if-you-aren’t-me metaphors and say the same thing multiple ways until it makes sense to me.

The first thing

I know that when I am happy, I tend to spend time with people. When I am sad, I tend to hide in my room and stay away from people, except a very special few (boyfriend). The tricky thing to tease out, though, is if being around other people makes me happy, or if when I am happy, I have enough energy to spend time with other people.

So if we look at a simple correlation, we would see this.

So hey, you might say, this seems like a pretty good correlation. Maybe even causation, eh? When you are happy, you spend time with people. Maybe then, to be happier, you should spend more time with people.

But wait… the plot thickens.

This is not actually the complete graph. Anyone who knows me should know that I have an upper limit for time I can spend with people. The first graph I showed you was incomplete! It actually only included a small part of the scale! When you look at a larger range, you actually see this!

Was the first graph even necessary? Well, I do like drawing these graphs, so I am going to go with ABSOLUTELY YES.  But (shhh) these graphs are actually not assembled using any “real” data, just general observations I have gathered from my life. Don’t tell anyone!

Being with people all the time is not a good thing for me. I need alone-time-breaks, where I can just chill out quietly and read some books or watch Netflix or spin in circles or look at leaves or swim or other things. There is an ideal ratio of time that I can spend with people that will result in maximum happiness ability. It is also more complicated because the amount of time varies depending on who it is.

Also, there are other factors that do affect this. It is a self-perpetuating cycle, a positive feedback loop, in many ways.

When I am sad, I do not have enough energy to do daily things (like eat or brush my hair or things like that). Because being sad seems to use up energy by itself, somehow. When I am happy, I do have enough energy to do daily things AND I have a surplus of energy. I can then spend that extra energy on fun things that make me happy.

What I think the answer is…

(1) Spending time with other people makes me happy
(2) But it also uses up a lot of energy
(3) Running out of energy results in meltdown, results in sad me
(4) Being sad also means lack of energy (possibly caused by lack of energy, is tricky to determine the cause of that)
(5) When I am sad, I do not have enough energy to make myself happy.

And now for some Terry Pratchett

It is sort of like this. (But with happiness instead of money. And the spending money is instead effort. OK, well, it is a complicated metaphor, and I’m not sure I can completely explain it, but they are the same colors and flavors and feelings of arguments, and I can’t really explain better why they are the same, but they just are.)

“The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money. 

Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles. 

But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that’d still be keeping his feet dry in ten years’ time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet.  

This was the Captain Samuel Vimes ‘Boots’ theory of socioeconomic unfairness.”

(I have maybe possibly been on a Terry Pratchett spree recently… But this is from Men at Arms and it is wonderful just like all the other books.)

Happy people seem to have more energy to be happy.

Comparing happiness and showering and enzymatic reactions

It’s sort of like taking showers. I actually really love taking showers. I love water. I love the sound of it and the feel of it. Taking a shower will result in me feeling better, almost invariably. Because water is just that amazing. But the amount of effort it takes to initiate a shower is just not always there. So even though in the end I know I will feel better, I am not able to do it.
Thinking about it in another way, it is like I am lacking the activation energy. I am missing an enzyme to lower the activation energy. But somehow other people are able to do the thing. And because they have the enzyme, it works. It is easy, maybe. But it just doesn’t work for me.
It’s not perfect, I know. Like there is the increased energy of the state of the molecule/intermediates that is supposed to correspond to the level of energy I have. And then the lower-energy end-product (although that will vary depending on the reaction). People who are good at chemistry, I am sorry if there are other problems in this that make your head hurt.

Another warning about correlations and causation

And so this is the problem I face when I am going through a bad streak, when I am trying to regain lost happiness. I know what I do when I am happy. I tend to blog more. I hang out with people more. I bake. I sing to myself a lot. I’ll explore and take walks. I exercise. But this is all correlation. Are these things that make me happy? Will they lead me back to happiness when I have lost it? Sometimes they do. Sometimes I don’t have enough energy to try.
I only have correlational data available on my life, when I am looking for causations.

So I will muddle through the correlations. Run some experiments (try some new coping mechanisms). And honestly, the correlational data is important. Because not only does it give me some hints about what might be causal, it also helps me identify emotions. Because that’s also not something I’m the best at. It helps to be able to recognize that I’m not doing great before I am doing awful, because it’s a lot easier to stop things before I’m headed at high speed down to the land of sad-and-confused-and-upset-me. Because when I am doing not-great, I still have the energy to fix things.

Life is overwhelming right now

Fidgety flappy
rocking shaking
knocking my knees
pressing my head against the desk

wanting to slam it
but that’s not allowed
so I bounce back against my chair
or press my head against the wall

I do not like busy season
I miss boyfriend

Life is overwhelming right now

Stiff and stimmy
I walk and tiptoe more when I am worried or stressed
I like this video also
it is nice
if you haven’t seen it you should watch it

https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/s2QSvPIDXwA&source=uds

I like the stiff and stimmy phrase
it sticks in my mind
as I tiptoe through my apartment

Tonight I will sit back
and rock back and forth in my chair
and watch Netflix

and let myself look at apartment floorplans
and organized bookshelves
and information about rabbits
and the best ways to build cages
and ways about housetraining

Life is overwhelming right now

For no particular reason

I went to lab and dropped my samples
so that probably added to it
but half of them were ok still

I got a haircut and it is short short shorter than before
and so that is change
and not playable-with

There’s snow on the ground
all around
and I will have to drive soon

and I am inexplicably overwhelmed for no particular reason

And I’ve been wanting to post and put things up
and write lovely insightful ideas
and let people know I am still here
and show I still fit in

but I haven’t had much anything
particularly insightful
or related
or topics
or whatnot
to say

Or even been really able to write in sentences
let alone paragraphs
Punctuation, capitalization, all those niceties required

so here is a message to say that I’m slightly overwhelmed
but I’m still here

Anyway

that is where I have been

Bouncing off the walls again… If only I had a word (for this)

Bouncing off the walls. Mostly off the desk, actually, because my neighbors are asleep downstairs, or if they aren’t, it is 12:46 and they have the right to not hear bouncing and pounding on the ceiling (and I don’t mind bouncing off the desk.) Flapping my knees up and down while sitting crisscross.

This sort of movement means something is wrong. I don’t have a word for this feeling.

I check my flow chart and it tells me I am probably tired so I should go to sleep.
It doesn’t have a solution for when I don’t want to go to sleep.
I don’t particularly have one either.

Maybe I should go to sleep.
Sleep is a good thing.
I know how to go to sleep.

I can hear the world around me.

Can you hear the sounds of the world?
I haven’t quite figured out what they all  are.

There’s a constant faint hum/buzzing noise. Maybe it’s the freeway, but I think that’s a few miles away, so it shouldn’t be that. It sounds more like a generator. I hear hums and buzzes all over the world that no one else seems to hear.

I used to think I could hear the world breathing.

The humming noise has been joined by the sounds of my apartment. Stream of consciousness never worked well for me because I can only type one at once. I need a high-throughput thought machine, a next-gen sequencer that can sequence my thoughts in real time. Then lay them out. Fancy computer cores dedicated to analyzing them. To finding the patterns. Figure out what all the intergenic regions are in my thoughts. I think I am taking this analogy too far.

It’s 12:53. I should sleep.

Bad news bears.

sad sad sad sad.

jump leg jump

bounce and bounce and bounce

I can hear the lights and the heaters and thats ok. There’s so many sounds.

This doesn’t happen every night. But it happens often.

I do not like falling asleep.

I am bad at it.

But it is necessary.

(That sleep thing.)

And this isn’t just a sleep thing because this doesn’t just happen at night. I wrote half of this months ago,  during daytime, and it’s the same movement today.

I don’t have a word for this feeling. I don’t like it particularly. I have a tendency when I move like this to start googling solutions to my problems. Not in a helpful way. But more in a “I type my answers into the google search box and hit enter and weird things come up.” I know that’s not how google works. I know typing “oh hey autism words and stuff” will not probably tell me anything. Although the first link was Nattily’s post “Oh Right, It’s Not Just Autism” so that part was cool.

It did not tell me the words for what this is though.

Because I want a name because maybe then I could find a solution.

It is a general apathetic view on life, but not with the lack of motion that apathy is. Apathy looks different. It’s much floppier and tan. It’s wanting to go do everything but not being able to get up and start anything. It is uselessness. It feels like uselessness and the ideas of uselessness look. It’s the motions of uselessness. (Not of me being useless, but just the ideas of uselessness. It’s sort of confusing, but it makes sense to me. Admittedly, it’s also 1:30AM.) That’s not quite the right word, but it’s closer than apathetic. It’s disorganization and no way to solve it.

Maybe I just need to start reading again. Up through high school, I used to read at least one book a day. I’ve got lots of book here. All my books. Maybe I need to read a book every day. Maybe that will be the solution.

It’s frustrating.

I do not like this jittery bouncing-ness.

I should go to sleep.

 I tried googling what am I feeling when I am bouncing apathetic and uselessness.

Google does not really have good answers for this.

Just like when I google what should I have for dinner, google never tells me the answer.

(Because that’s not what google is for.)

I wish I had words for this or answers for this.

I should go to bed. Or at least go to my bed. I can pick out a book and read it in bed under all the covers with only the small light that I can turn off without getting out of bed. I have all my books here. My good safe books.

Pjs. Brush teeth. Retainer. Lights off. Get into bed. Under covers. Read.

That is what I will do.

I will publish this at 1:35 and get ready for bed and then go sit in my bed with a book I have read hundreds of times until I am still and until I can fall asleep. And in the morning I will find solutions. Or at least later in the day or year or some point in time.

~~~
P.S.

Also, I sort of want to make a note about things here. I feel like I’ve gotten really sloppy in all my writing on here. Lots of breaks with lines instead of writing much in whole paragraphs. Disjointed writing and disjointed words. I sort of feel weird putting up some of the sloppy, messy stuff, but really, I can put up whatever I want here about myself because it is my blog and I think it is still useful for me to write this stuff even if it is disjointed things that don’t become really coherent ever. I’m ok enough and I’ll figure things out sort of eventually and hopefully soon I’ll be able to write in paragraphs like a real adult again (slash I will have to be writing paper summaries and stuff, although usually science writing I’m pretty good at at any given time.) Anyway yeah…. Stuff and words and all that.

On Anonymity

I am about 80% certain that at least one of my family members has found this blog. I could be taking conversation hints the wrong way, but I have an idea (both from things people have said to me, and from my visitor profile) that maybe someone found it.

I have some pictures on here that family members will be able to pretty quickly recognize, even though I’ve hidden faces. (Or sometimes they aren’t pictures of humans at all. For instance, I have some pictures of my apartment in there. Also, I couldn’t resist pictures of most of my pets.)

If you know me well and you stumbled upon this blog, it would be pretty easy to figure out who I am.

That is ok. 

My goal in anonymity here is more for general internet protection. I would like to be able to keep my internet self as separate from my in-real-life-self as I can. I would like to have the freedom to figure out and explore and investigate without having to worry about any professional repercussions.

But also, I am able to write more on here because I know it is relatively secret and anonymous. Because I know most people in my lives do not know about it, and so I am free to not worry about what they will think on this one tiny part of the world.

And that is also important to me.

So, if you know me, and you have found this blog by chance or by effort, I would like it if you could not bring it up. If it is something I want you to know about, then I will let you know. I think it is ok with me if you read it. Because hopefully it will help you better understand me. But please don’t judge me for what you read here, because a lot of things on here are rough thoughts and ideas. They haven’t been hammered out into perfection. And they do not have to.

Because this is my space for thoughts and ideas. For thinking and discussing. For figuring out the autistic side of me in ways I can’t necessarily do in real life. For finding and talking and hearing from lovely new people.

And once again, please do not tell me in real life. Because if I knew that you read this, if I knew that people read this for certainty, people who know me in real life, then I would lose so much of the freedom that I need from this space.

Note: this does not apply to people I have met through this blog, or if I have specifically and explicitly mentioned it to you in real life.