#also tank has autism simply because i’m projecting

[soup-scope]

guy and honey both have autism but in two completely different directions. send tweet

[nano-the-robot-blog]

A Vent

Hello. My name is nano (not really, of course), I’m an art student from rural Britain, and I really need a place to vent right now. I don’t know if anyone will read this, or if any of those people will know me, but at this point I don’t really care.

Since childhood, I’ve lived a very privileged life. My family aren’t well off but we get by, my father has always had a job and my mother has always looked after my brother and I. They have their flaws and we’ve had our arguments, but my parents really are amazing. However, unfortunately, that doesn’t grant me ease of passage through life - especially with the world in the state it’s in right now.

I know that I have it much better than a lot of people, and I have always known that. I tend to get things in halves. I have autism spectrum disorder, but I’m not nonverbal and most people don’t even notice. I have fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome, but I’m not wheelchair-bound. I have depression and anxiety, but I’ve never attempted suicide. I have an atypical eating disorder, not anorexia or bulimia (for those out there who do suffer with any of the things I’ve mentioned, my heart goes out to you. I may never understand your struggle but I will always strive to do the best I can to help, and I hope that you can all get through your respective hardships).

Now, as you can probably tell, I’m a very average person. Average height, average weight, average education and average skill levels. My brother, on the other hand, is a little less conventional. He has moderate to severe autism with learning difficulties which he was diagnosed with at quite a young age, and although he has yet to be diagnosed with it, my mother swears that he has pathological demand avoidance. He is also fairly tall and quite overweight, making him a formidable opponent.

These factors add up - the autistic meltdowns, the avoidance of any helpful behaviour and the refusal of commands and the sheer size of him - to make him an absolutely unbearable person to live with. He frequently attacks my family and I, both physically and verbally and with varying degrees of severity. It gets to the point, fairly often, that the police have to be called. My entire family have had to literally sit on his back in order to restrain him before, and it only gets worse once he is taken into hospital. At one point, he had four fully trained, adult police officers holding him down on a hospital bed. He’s had handcuffs, leg braces, the whole nine yards. It’s hell for everyone else in the family - and not just the humans. We have a menagerie of pets in the house as we are all animal lovers (aside from my father, though he does adore our dogs) and, though my brother doesn’t directly hurt them, the effect on them is clear. Our two dogs, one a huge Labrador/Rottweiler/Springer cross and the other a tiny Jack Russel/Pug mix, are utterly terrified every time he kicks off. They can even feel the tension in the air when we’re “walking on thin ice”, as my mother puts it, or when he’s on the edge of a meltdown. We also have three cats who don’t seem too bothered, although he has held up my cat (the oldest, and the smallest) and threatened to choke her before. I also have four beautiful young budgerigars who experienced his wrath for the very first time today, and it’s safe to say that they weren’t a fan. I’m hoping that they will be okay, though, since wild budgies will suffer much more worrying encounters in Australia.

Today, however, my brother went too far. He directed his anger towards the animals - my animals specifically - and me. My mother spent three days painting a gorgeous high sleeper bed which I only just got. I tried to help out, and I kept her company, but I’m just too sick to do such a physical task. Mom just naturally took over and eventually offered to paint the whole thing - even though she herself is ill. Like I said, my parents are amazing. The bed was a real labour of love for Mom, and she did an amazing job - despite the various hardships faced during the process. It was a real bonding experience for my mother and I, which was sorely needed as my mental health is pretty much non-existent at the moment. I’ll explain this as briefly as I can, just to give an idea of how much this affects me.

Recently, I’ve been suffering hugely with an atypical eating disorder. This possibly started when my ex broke up with me about two years ago, and very slowly built up over the past two years until recently, I stopped eating almost entirely and cut myself down to one small meal per day. The sudden change may or may not have been caused by my final major project in college, which I put my heart and soul into and which ended recently. I got the grade I wanted, but the residual stress left from it certainly took its toll, and my fate was sealed. I became more depressed than ever before and my anxiety, autism and (at the time mild) ED suffered the same way. I isolated myself from all of my friends, even my best friend - our relationship has been recovering slowly but surely from a very rough patch we had last year. I love her more than any other human, but I find it simply impossible to connect with another human being at the moment. My relationship with my parents is also hugely strained since they have to force me to eat now, and though we both know that it’s for the best, it puts a new barrier up between us. Another rather significant contributor is the fact that I have feelings for somebody I can never be with, and I’m quite sure he’s catching feeling for another girl who I’m also friends with, which simply gives me more reasons to distance myself from them. Regardless, back to the current situation.

It started small and simple, like all the worst things do. My mattress is in my parents’ room at the moment, as I can’t risk touching my paint-covered bed. My room also stinks of paint which makes it hard to sleep. My snakes are still in my room, though, as we couldn’t move them. My brother threw a cushion at me through the door. That’s all. I was lying in bed, exhausted and ill, and he threw a pillow at me. I said nothing, threw the pillow onto my parents’ bed, and went back to watching videos. A few minutes later, he threw a doorstop at me. It was heavy, and hit me in the hip, so it hurt a lot more than the cushion did. Again, I said nothing, and texted Mom to tell her what was happening. She came up the stairs pretty quickly, questioning my brother about it in a sympathetic tone. She knows him best, and is the best at diffusing situations like this. Like me, he said nothing. After a short while of her talking to him, though, he shoved past her out of his room and into hers, where I was still lying. I was hesitant to leave the bed, stupidly enough, because I wasn’t wearing trousers. However, my brother soon began threatening (nonverbally, of course) to throw his entire fifteen-pound body onto the mattress and on top of me. I wasn’t about to find out how many of my bones would be broken as I’m fragile enough already, so on request of my mother, I scurried off to the other side of my parents’ bed. He followed. I was hissed at to go into my room, which is what I did. No more than five minutes later, with me now holding a very nervous small dog, I hear a fierce BANG! and my door jumps. I’ve got an old door, one of the originals of our house, and I’ve never seen it budge before. At this point, I realised that he was going to break it down. Another few minutes passed until it happened once more, and once more was all it took. I stuck my legs out, thankfully, and caught the door on my feet, pushing it to the side. Thank goodness it somehow didn’t reach the snake tanks which were mere inches away, as they would have no doubt been shattered. We all knew it now; his anger was directed toward me and me alone. He kept advancing and my mother shooed me out of the room. I grabbed the dogs and hurried them into the utility, turned the light off and crouched down with them in the diffused light from the kitchen. He couldn’t see me, nobody could see me. We were safe. They all came downstairs fairly soon and my dad found me first. He said nothing, simply gave me a stressed look and went back into the kitchen. My mom then came out a few minutes later and informed me that my brother had backed himself onto my sofa, which is currently up against the snake tanks, and had started banging his hands on the glass. Any reptile owners well know that this is an awful situation for any reptile, especially snakes. Even just tapping on their tanks stresses them out to no end. They can stop eating for weeks, and if it’s bad enough, the poor things can even die. I did check the snakes after the whole ordeal and thankfully, they are all still alive and at least one of them is still ready to eat. My brother soon found my hiding place and started advancing again. I had nowhere left to go - my room, the only safe place, was destroyed. I just had to run upstairs and hang around for a while. I could hear him shifting furniture, and the occasional yell from one of my parents as he hit them. I know from experience that his blows are nothing to be scoffed at.

I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but somehow he ended up in my room again, but this time he turned his attention to my bed. Mom was appalled. The face she made was one of sheer horror; she had spent so much time and energy to get it to such a good condition and he had just ruined three days of work. She cried into my shoulder, weeping about the lack of consideration he has for others. I agreed, and we both muttered that we didn’t want him here any more.

That may seem harsh, to you. Who would want their own brother to leave for good? I would have agreed with you, if it weren’t for literal years of constant abuse from this boy, this monster. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute he can be a perfectly innocent child (he is 15, but his mental state is at the point where he is internally 8 or 9), and then within moments he can switch to some inhuman, unfeeling being of nothing but hate. He cannot be reasoned with, he can only be fought.

He’s gone now, they all are. Mom and him were taken to hospital in an ambulance, and my father followed shortly after. My snakes are alive, my budgies are fine and everything has gone quiet. This will happen again, and it’ll never stop until something is done - but that’s just the thing. What do we do? We’ve jumped through the hoops, we’ve waited years for people to help us and nobody will.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t want to seem like an attention seeker, but I genuinely fear that if this type of thing carries on, I’ll try to kill myself. Tonight put so much strain on my mental state, and each new episode increases that strain so much, that I don’t think it will be too long until I snap.

Sorry that this has been my first post on this blog. It was meant to be an art blog but I’m no longer going to be doing that as I’m completely rebranding myself. This will be a personal blog for me to write about my life - a kind of journal, I suppose.

All the best,

nano

[regretsdelusionstoughluck]

PART 3

WEDNESDAY MORNING

While Damon was online looking for odd jobs he noticed an add for dancers needed. He’s had a stripper license since he was 19 and used this as a means for extra money when not deployed. He sent this to Oliver in an email prior to calling him on his way to the pharmacy.

“Morning”

“Check out the email”

As he pulled out his iPad, he saw the email

“What the fuck is this?”

“Strippin....you already do way more,  plus a bachelorette party would get you a killing. I used to dance at a few of them when I was home”

“Got anything else?”

“Banquets, I know a lot of companies. I can send you a list of catering companies you could do work for. What you got going on right now?”

“Laying on the couch, going into the office”

[Really? That’s the best you got? What part of “I want out of this life do you not understand?]

While he wasn’t thrilled about it, he took some time to think about t and he realized that bachelorette parties are for the entertainment value and he did keep his body in shape. However, didn’t want his current situation to mirror that of “The Players Club”.

Oliver got up from the couch to fix himself an omelette while continuing to talk. “Yo, I got you on speaker phone, doing some stuff in the kitchen”

“Man, remember when we were young and we would see vacationers out here, we vowed that one day it would be us taking trips with our families?”

“I do, and when I look at where I’m at, I think to myself “What the actual fuck?”

[We were lied to. In 2008, when we were in high school, we were told to go to college. That it was the ticket to a successful life. What they didn’t tell us is that the economy would tank. They didn’t go cover any alternatives. They never went over the cost of living and the fact that people here are working three jobs. I should have seen this with my own parents. Dad worked for the state and then worked as a janitor in the evenings. Mom still works as a financial aid officer at a state college. The preparation sucked. What the fuck am I gonna use creative writing for? Why was that in school?]

He cut the conversation short to eat his breakfast and get a shower in before work. Afterwards, he ironed a pair of pants and a golf shirt and heaved to the office where the direction informed him and Claudia:

“I have a project for the two of you. Our event is coming up at the mall. You two are going to be drawing outlines to these animal pieces on the construction poet right there. We’re expecting about 200 kids”

“No problem” Oliver said looking at the green construction paper in front of him

“It’ll be a breeze” Claudia assured him as she took a pair of scissors and the elephant trunk and demonstrated. 

“So it’s like build a bear type of think but with other animals but they’re decorating their bags with them. That’s cute”

“Yeah, so are you gonna go to the career fair next week”

“The one at the convention center?”

“Yea, I heard there’s going to be several companies there.”

[Resume-FEMA, fucking, and non-profit]

“I plan on it. Do you know if any government agencies are gonna be there? I couldn’t find a roster anywhere”

“Not sure”

They continued working while talking about goals and aspirations when he noticed an alert on her phone. Knowing the conference due to getting the same alert an hour earlier, he asked her how she knew about it? Somewhat embarrassed, she snapped “What are you doing looking at my phone?!”

“I merely glanced over!” he exclaimed before taking her aside and confessing to being involved in the worlds oldest profession “I hate it. One would think attractive people and pleasure but there’s no real live and frankly it feels like a modern version of slavery. I can’t get a decent date to save my life”

After a moment of silence, she admitted that she was a phone sex operator and that she worked in evenings. “I have a friend who also is in high class escorting”

“High class?”

“Let’s talk about it later? How about we meet for a drink after work? We need to get a bit more of this done.”

Meanwhile, Damon was scouting on the web when his eye caught the attention of a webcam modeling website.

 He though about his current life and how he’d mange to file his taxes. He normally got a 1090 at the end of the year. He also though about the repercussions of this and the thought that the clientele could  be from his local area. He had a flashback to being deployed in Germany where he and some buds where in a night club, partying surrounded by beautiful women. “We are like royalty!”  He thought about a conversation he had with his peer about wanting to serve for eight years and then retire and start college. Little did he know that half way though that time frame that he’d suffer a back injury along w/ PTSD from witnessing the death of a friend at the hands of a grenade.

He applied for work with multiple agencies and thought about how he could sporadically work vs checking in daily. With webcam modeling he could set his own schedule. With that in mind he decided to text Oliver.

“Who was that?”

“My friend Damon”

“So about how long have you with with this company?”

“About six months. I’m trying to start grad school”

They chatted while filing paperwork. They talked about politics, racial issues, economic issues, and the like. Claudia made for good company. She graduated with two degrees. She majored in English Education and Journalism and worked as a teacher’s aide for a period. She was tired of the work with virtually no pay. She responded to an add. Currently she works for a phone sex. One has seen the commercials late at night. She’s one of them. Definitely more conventional than Oliver’s current job. 

As he was getting ready to eat lunch, she Claudia asked him if he wanted to eat while they worked. “Sure” he said as he went to grab his lunch out of his bag. 

“We work with several schools in their special ed departments”

“What do y’all do?”

”We will be finalizing contracts for events mainly. But we do outreach and after school programs on social etiquette and speech practices our goal is to  help those with autism be as integrated into society as possible” Noticing Oliver’s garden salad, she asked him “you health conscious?”

“Yep. Grew up like that. My parent’s rarely fried anything, but they didn’t ban them from the house. My mom was always big on vitamins and drinking plenty of water. I practice that today, to keep things under control. Being a diabetic, I have to watch it.”

Shocked at the revelation she asked him when he was diagnosed. He was diagnosed at 6 years old.

“I’m trying to lose weight, but I find myself emotionally eating more than I should”

Trying to avoid saying anything that could be interpreted as offensive, he simply said that he had his days too, hence the reason he goes to the gym six days/week, doing a combination of cardio and weights. After they finished eating lunch, they cut more construction paper and bagged it. They filed folders away for about an hour when Oliver signed out.”See you tomorrow?”

“You’ll see me in a couple of hours.”

The sun was beaming as Oliver drove home. He rolled down his window and plugged his phone in to have some music playing. He checked the mail and saw the electric bill was in. “Shouldn’t be this much” he said “I’m never home”

He checked his email as well as his escorting profile receiving three request including one overnight stay. Booking these trips back to back, he thought about his weekly check at $8.75/hr at 25 hrs per week along w/ the money from the three client’s that he’d earn. He’d have enough to pay his final payment on his only student loan and to pay his car note.

He kicked off his shoes to give his feet some air and called his mom.

[I’m being nice. This place is a shithole, in fact the only reason my unit isn’t laden with roaches is because I frequently buy those foggers and then I have to open the damn windows and door risking my shit being stolen. Also, Bengal and Boric Acid along the cracks and corners have done wonders.]

He looked up and realized that it was time to meet Claudia. He traded in his work outfit for a pair or black cargo shorts, a zero-nineteen tank top from K-Mart, and a pair of flip-flops and headed out. He got in the truck, turned the air on and arrived to the bar 20 minutes later. Locating Claudia at a table in the bar area we walked in to meet her when the waiter took their drink order.

[She’s a pharmacy tech and she still needs to be a lady of the evening by night? I’m fucked-literally and figuratively]

She advised him to update his profile to include massages and casual dates at a lower rate. While they were talking, A woman walks up, dark skin, about 5′9, in her mid 20s. She spotted Claudia and walked in the sit next to her.

“Hey chick!”

“Hey!”

“Hello, I’m Aya, how are your doing?” she said as she reached out to shake Oliver’s hand

“Oliver, I’m good. How about you?”

“So this is the guy? He’s cute”

“He’s taken”

“Actually I’m very available”

After ordering a drink, she begin to explain to Oliver how she got into her current part time job.  “I started off escorting however a client of mine introduced me to a coworker of his that owned a matchmaking service. I showed up to a mixer I went out on one date. I never saw the guy again afterwards. That said, he did mention to me that he had utilized services where one would rent a dates for events. I eventually branched off and begin advertising on craigslist and the like.”

“So do you still...….you  know?”

“Sporadically, but that’ll cost extra.”

Later that night, he decided to update his profile w/ additional services offered. He decided to try out a couple of speed dating events himself. He might even snap a client or two.  Perhaps, he’d been looking in the wrong places, maybe it was time for more upscale social functions. His current evening work was not a glamorous job and frankly it was quite dangerous. 

[Prostitution can be traced back as far as biblical times. Not a new profession and it’s a profession that’s always been available for the money. Sometimes, we use it to pay off a loan or some sort of debt. For others, it’s the love of sex. Some just like the temporary luxury that comes with being one’s bitch. Me? I’d like nothing more than to settle down. I know there’s a way. It may take a while to find it, but I refuse to have THIS be my stop.]

STORY SYNOPSIS

CHARACTERS

PART 4 TO FOLLOW

[autisticadventurer]

Afterword

I realize that there are probably shit tons of lingering questions from anyone who kept up with that entire project. I’ll try to address the ones that seem obvious to me.

Is this blog over? Oh, heavens no. I’ll keep writing at this location until it outlives its usefulness. Eventually, I’ll get to the permaculture stuff but I’m considering a personal Autism Q&A first. It’s whatever.

Why do I believe in the unmanifest? Direct experience. I don’t know if it has something to do with my autism but after I started meditating regularly, there was a change in my perception. The most accurate way to phrase it would be, “I cannot unsee what I have seen,” but obviously I didn’t see anything with my eyes. I simply learned how to recognize the unmanifest. 

Is there anything I would add? I can’t add anything to the DaoDe Jing without venturing into the world of dogma. I would remind people to consider that their learning comes at the expense of resources; that coal is burned to produce electricity and that trees are murdered in order to publish books and in that way, paper is more valuable than gold because it was produced from living things that help maintain a stable ecosystem. There is already a lot of good information on mindfulness, so I would just encourage people to expand their mindfulness to include the greatest total consequences of their actions.

How do I actually feel about being Autistic? I think I will be a lot happier when the autism community can be ourselves in public without having to worry about being asked to leave, laughed at, arrested, or shot. I will feel much better when we can talk about it openly and be respected, and I think the first watermark for that will be being able to talk about Cannabis treatments (both CBD and THC, depending on the person and their neurological needs) for autistics without people losing their minds. On a personal level, I guess there is quite a bit of ennui which gets in the way. I literally have to pretend to be someone else in order to be considered acceptable for employment and all that does is lead me into manic-depression from living in denial of myself. I also know that my culture’s rejection of my condition has more to do with my culture than my condition. I love myself and I am a valuable member of the community even if my participation is conditional and I am regularly excluded. Before I was diagnosed, I was regularly fired, after my diagnosis, I couldn’t get hired at all. That being said, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know that the autism community has made incredible contributions to humanity and I hope to do the same. I also think people who would exclude or cure autism should stop using technology that we developed and refrain from participating in cultural phenomena that we are responsible for originating. 

What was the best and worst part of this project? The worst part was ignorant teenagers on the internet who think they know everything but are clearly brainwashed by their culture... but I think that’s the worst part of a lot of things. The best part was providing a resource for people to understand at least one other perspective than the one taught to them by their parents or their parents’ religions.

Anything else? Any helpful suggestions? I think 90′s Nickelodeon covered the stuff about turning your lights off when you leave and reducing your air conditioning usage and putting water bottles in the tank of your toilet and walking instead of driving. Continuing to make a mistake because we have been making it for so long that we feel invested to keep making the mistake is a logical fallacy. It’s called the Escalation of Commitment. It’s very important to be able to say, “Oh shit, I’m doing this wrong,” and stop. It’s okay to self correct, you don’t have to be right all the time and you don’t have to commit to poor decisions. It doesn’t matter what other people think because they are probably caught in their own web of fallacies and lies and denials and prejudices. Most people are ignorant, selfish, and shallow so who cares how they react to you? Yes, I know quite well that it is difficult to stand out and be different but that isn’t an argument not to; it’s an argument for improving the tolerance of differences in our culture. Other important ones: NO means NO and nobody owes you an explanation as to why. If you think someone should be doing better, then maybe you should help them (with your vote or donations or whatever). I dislike social games and have trouble respecting anyone who gossips or jumps to conclusions without data. I dislike it when people attempt to use submissive social behavior to appease other people instead of just offering an apology. I dislike liars. I dislike anything that could’ve been easy but humans made it difficult because of cultural faux pas. I dislike being harped on to grow out my incredibly high maintenance hair or to wear makeup or to do anything that is perceived as “encouraging me to be more feminine in order to be more desireable to a man.” 

Do I really not believe in enlightenment or heaven or hell? No. Not even a little bit.