The Freckin Double Standards

If I hustle up the stairs, that startles the ol woman…

but she calls be down the stairs, either with an open door, or closed door an in urgent matter…because I didn’t answer my desk phone.

The level of dependency, the level of social norms, the level of lacking appropriate, gentle and not life or death urgency in the undertones.

The idea my mother can issue rules for the house but yet she never enforces it, the idea that I wished we can communicate more gently, with more consent and this 24×7 environment for 4 straight years…

I feel like a fucking bastard child. Sometimes I wished I didn’t exist so I am not worth anything anymore.

Life and it’s Challenges

I got sick again for the second time in just over a couple months. I got infected late last Friday, and I’m still really tired and stuffy.

As it approached the fifth month of my grandmother passing away, there’s been more uncertainty. My mother has not taken the loss well. Some of her behaviors noticed early on she has apparently reflected on. One of the reasons why she said to me in direct phrase “been a homebody” was she was afraid of something happening to her and I’d be fully alone. She also doesn’t feel mother’s presence. She’s even contemplated selling the house.

My mother still hasn’t reached out for support from the hospice care. I did find things that would’ve been useful for her, but this is the hyper-strong female choses, is stubborn to try to grieve a bit more better. Instead, she results in other acquaintances acting as their therapist while my mother tells the complete play by play story including the hospice’s front desk lady’s name in her stories.

Her work environment  is not that healthy either. A co worker whose got an annoying personality is becoming an injustice. My mother’s work ethic is her own curse. It’s hard for her to emotionally detach from. If the person has annoying personality, but is doing more worse stuff, annoying habits shouldn’t be the most outrage.

Later this month will mark the 6th month mark. I’m already preparing for the worse.

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Chickens are coming Home to Roost (“My Mom”)

My mother had used the phrase “my mother” or “my mom” or sometimes where I would inadvertently chime in from the dining room she would say “I’m talking to my mother”. I had also unintentionally would trigger her by saying the way she says “my” sounded “possessive”… well… I have something to say about this…

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Concurrently Grieving With a Maladaptive Mother…

My mother has not handled Gram’s death with grace all the time, but what can you expect? Sure it’s going to be a roller coaster, but sadly my mother’s pre-existing, but undiagnosed style of behavior is becoming really apparent in the months that has followed.

The Appearance of a Potentially Deadly Outburst

My mother comes off as short-circuiting, will  become extremely emotionally, on the fly basically and earlier this week, I was scared for my life, afraid of becoming a Thanksgiving accident statistic as she was on a road rage of someone allegedly cutting her off, when she was in a mood of a rage of what happened in late summer to her mother. She was stubbornly believing she as in the right as she had the right of way; what really scared me was when she was tailgating, and wasn’t mitigating any potential rear-end collision – no she was so enraged that the other driver didn’t respect her right of way (even when she was in her tunnelvision)

She goes on the highway and literally follows the car, she ordered me to take down the license plate number, and when she decided the car was going towards Nashua, she took the exit past home and tried to instigate reax from the driver as she was staring at them, as if they did something so wrong.

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Transgenderism – Is this not seen properly?

There is not a day that goes by where people are whining and bitching about transgenderism, that the schools are turning guys into girls, it’s the media, it’s freckin TicTok that’s doing it! Ooo the outrage!

Or is it that feminism rejects men at all costs? What about living in a red state (hell it’s purple, with red pockets here and there) where right of center women just ride the coattails of the liberating movement? Or is it lefties who just can’t trust ’em?

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Re-De with the local DHHS

I am saying this loosely, even for high functioning autistics, people like me need to have benefits… because I am not enough work wise too.

The annual re-determination process (aka re-de) is in August, where my mother has to file the annual paperwork to say I am totally and permanently disabled and we have to supply the state the last checking and savings monthly statement, etc. Because my mother neglected a certain detail that changed this year, I did not get my bi-monthly benefits beginning in September.

my mother tried to call the office one time in early September but because I didn’t fill the consent to talk, it further delayed. We tried calling the office again later in the month and was on hold for nearly 20 minutes.

Despite the Cisco CallManager on-hold music, it got my mother really anxious. My grandmother was dying to be blunt.

Last Wednesday, we went to our local DHHS office, and much to my chagrin, there was no wait, my name was the only one on the digital display, and for all intensive purposes, we were applying for benefits (aka it was like being 18 all over again with the paperwork.) However that part got expietitied because of the long term supports (i.e. my day services connection.) My mother did apply for Food Stamps because other benefits in a re-de last year shrunk because of a misunderstanding of how the funds were supposed to be used.

Obviously, I do not want to share the details, nor embellish it. I do want to say there is some shame living with a pre-existing autistic condition. That’s explained in a follow up phone meeting on Friday.

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Hellllo Fall 2023: Depleted, Burnt Out, Unable to Function

In March, I was really in a down moment in my life. I was turning 36, and I am inching closer to 40 with nothing to relate to with my peers, unless it’s those peers that are in the same boat! Yes, because feeling the very same feels will turn all boats.

My mother is going through intense grief, while I have been identified as her “rock”. And it wasn’t the first time me or others heard that uttered. Not to mention I started elementary school in 1993, 30 years to the day last month. Given my grandmother’s grave state, I was unable to reflect, and given that I had traveled to Londonderry (or around there) about a handful of times after her passing, it set the trauma markets of feeling like I was not enough by any means, and I was just that resource-room kid who they felt I was not as equal to them.

my present therapist is antsy, often over generalizing, over sympathizing what is not in reality, because that individual doesn’t look at individual cases, not to mention US English isn’t their native tongue. My mother had gotten blindsided with the monthly benefits, so we need to turn the clock to when I was 18 and re-apply for eligibility; only because of a mismatch in paperwork,

Politically I am scared to death because “we are one election away” from an extremist who hates Massachusetts. Not to mention everything I have discussed over the last year in a half with politicians trying to regulate tolerance through preaching intolerance.

I feel like a goddamned misfit. I feel like in the state I live in “freedom” only applies to a handful of people with very little accountability, and responsible people are paying for those groups’ freedoms. Average men are treated as creeps!

No one understands the pain I have to absorb and right now I do not have any support people to help me with my cognitive differences. People who are reading is like “well you’re so high functioning, how can you not understand?

I was home alone on and off for almost a month and a half by no ones fault of their own; however I was really unable to discuss what was going on. Therapy sessions had to be on Zoom. I was trying to keep calm and carry on, but now I can’t even fucking cry!

The warning signs goes as far back as 2018 into 2019, I needed many hands as possible, and guess, what? my mother has to take the emotional burden of what I had to go through.

DSM-IV era autism is not as common as people think. Not too many people get-it, they think my father should’ve parented me instead, and fuck me up in a different way.

I am drained, my bandwidth has been maxed out, and I can’t process anymore. What’s next, other individuals feeding me their emotional stimuli that I can’t process.

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Hopeless Hangover

What great start to a long month to date. The local indie station in the market reshares photos sent to the station using a well-known hashtag. Finally I had. been seen. But before that I was struggling to be seen by the local media. I had been in a contact with a now former Boston media news personality and that individual was ghosting-me in the sense that the individual would be quick to respond if it was in that individual’s interest but was unable to pay it forward to help me. That litmus test was following an essay published in Boston Magazine for the February issue (now you can figure out who I am referring to and if you know that individual, the oldest offspring is autistic.)

I was also laid off from BCOP-TV as part of a 20 minifigure after bombing the February Sweeps with low rated stories, including Tuned Out. So feeling just seen, and barely heard, and unsure how the Minifig Newsguy can work out in the long term, I started to inform my followers that I am taking some from of a long term leave of absense from my platforms (with occasional posts.

In the midst of this, I took a spur of the moment plan to go to Portsmouth, NH for a 4-day weekend. That turned out to become a 5-night weekend because my scheduling gyped me a week because the February short month discount. It all worked out, my mother worked on site for 1/2 the day on the 1st and took me to Portsmouth, just over 24 hours the day before she booked the room and for the first time ever in my life was I prepared within a day to be out of the home for more than several days.

The very long weekend was not a complete waste, but it would progress into one social mishap to another… by Friday evening, after being at a local bar of a pizza joint I have frequented since the days of SLC, the bartender (ironically named “Stephanie”… given female name for a princess and a potential stiff bitch) I lost it. While I heard cursing and yelling outside on the sidewalks, I started to record a “voice note” despite it was recorded on a Canon Vixia prosumer ENG camera… and then lost it…

“I feel so lonely, that not one soul would understand the pain I am going through”

And hell yeah, no one did kinda check in on me.

What really this was was the detoxing of 3 1/2 decades of feeling like a dust mite, really just soulless human being, where my life has flashed by and it apparently is all my fault. The way the American public opinion is heading by the hard-right, authoritative theocrats is not only hold-yourself-by-the-bootstraps, but take your own problems in your own hands and fix your own problems without telling the world.

I have, and it hasn’t and that’s why I posted this.

Well you shouldn’t be doing that, that’s for sissy gay little boys, you aren’t working hard enouugh.

Well I have

WORK HARDER!

And this the rhetoric I am dealing with indirectly.

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The DHHS Files…

(Since The Facebook Files and The Twitter Files is-a-thing.)

Concurrent to The Hopeless Autistic, I’ve retained  emails to my support people as well as the state level. At the time I had connections to the head of DHHS at the time who left because he was term-limited. As I reflect in the moment of 2016… the Commissioner at the time thought like me where there should be direct relations; but the people below him did not see it that way, if anything they doubled down on the supervisory nature of the patriarchal-bureaucracy. I should say Federalization, meaning any three letter Federal agency cares about if a subject has been rubber-stamped, without any nuance.

Another part of this was the autistic brain and the confusion of roles. If you remember grade school and being lectured about “roles” and “expectations” from higher authorities, well imagine this hell for four years while I was part of the planning committee for the Family Support Conference. The people worked for this part of DHHS happened to have family members with a disability, but it was unclear who was the authority, or a fellow family-support type? By no means was I intended to be any whistle-blower, or attempt to trivialize the FSC, but I suspected that the state trivialized it from within! The conflict of interest was very apparent, and conflicts of interest is based on perception. Of course I would never speak on this publicly until that perception was apparent. In 2020;  an area agency runs it and lot of it was cut back, and now it’s run by mostly apparent mama bear types; and no external representation that the conference was known for. It had been canceled because of the pandemic

The female patriarchy of the system is stuck in a 1987 mindset of old mamabears knowing what’s best for the hierarchal disabled child. In 2022,  I had expressed what this mindset could do to a non verbal type.

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