“Boundaries”… not the victims of NPD… but Regulations…

Late 2019

I started to see a change in my day program that I didn’t like seeing. This program is for adults 21 to basically death. This program does not take in anyone from birth to 3. Obviously the local Special Education depts take care of the developmentally delayed population. But the regulations that laid the eggs dating to the creation of The Hopeless Autistic started to roost by the turn of the decade. Because 2020 was the year of implementing “regulations” and compliance. The last day program I attended was probably the last one that had to implement the so-called “changes”.

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When there’s a push…comes a SHOVE!!!

…and who gets punished? ME!

For many years I have been a victim (because I was a survivor in the moment) to people with not only an NPD like temperament but the Type-A, the antsy, always looking for something to pat themselves on the back. They really were not looking out for me.

On Christmas Eve in 2019, I had a conflict of a former support staff that was supposed to be a friend at this point. There was some irash statements, but when I went to the bathroom, my phone started to ring. This person was clearly a Type-A’s Type-A, immediately hit the phone button to call me, and left a message, then texted me, then I got a nice bigass lecture from a 50something woman ordering me around, I was forced to comply with “yes, I get you” kinda thing.

Ever since then this forward-thinking biach has ghosted me. But whose at fault? ME! Yet again! Whenever I felt push, I felt shoving back, because how would you feel as a woman of a man telling you what to do? Are you happy that I am a man so you can fuck me over?

That individual was of the many, many masculine types who wanted outcomes for their own gain. That pushing someone out of line would get me places. How would you feel as a woman that I pushed you around. The woman was really bossy and knew how to get an answer by asking specific and clear questions. I was pushed to be “very clear” and talk faster than a New York minute and even then I was still not enough to get their attention. There was always a catch, and there was always some caveat.

I can’t ever win. Pushing people what you want is never OK, but it was for many of my masculine types of women in my life.

To not completely write her off, she did help me through the maze of the system with being spiffy in my words. But I certainly did not appreciate the pushing as a motivator because the environments around me would not tolerate me pushing through sand.

That individual reminded me yet again my biggest disability is being a guy. And sadly of all the ladies in my life, only 5 or so did not have the Type-A/NPD signatures and yet I couldn’t work with them for long. I haven’t had a friend like that in my life. Why do I get the get the worse people? I didn’t ask to be a narcissist!

“Hitting The Wall” (Just Many Years Earlier…)

The phrase “hitting the wall” refers to women hitting 30 or 35 without a man or any type of relationship because of apparent prejudices of men (whether it’s realistic or imagined, say inflated from abuse) and their abilities to reproduce (if they want to) becomes harder. The phrase actually is part of a long vulgar glossary of the movement known as Men Going Their Own Way or better known as MGTOW, of which got legitimized over the last five years as this was once a fringe and cringe group.

For me, I felt I “hit the wall”, many, many years ago. As early as 21 or even 18, once I realized that it was probably at that time in the mid 00s I had no more purpose in life. My life really passed by at that point, and the “flashes” was more of a reminder that of that infamous message on old 8-bit games of “Game Over”. By the way this is not influenced by any means by that hack in Toronto known as Jordan Peterson (once nicknamed Jordi on The Weekly Zoo.)

In the last decade, I wanted to be proven wrong, having the status “Hopeless Autistic” doesn’t just make people look at you weirdly, but it’s a motivator that there is some potential your life is not a complete waste. But in those 10 years that had followed, including a prolonged pandemic, and if anything there has been claims that being infected with COVID19 adds more age with or without the vaccine. At the last check there’s claims it adds 5 years to your age.

But as I am now 35, as I see the remaining light flare passed me by… I realized that now there’s really little hope. Was this my fault or could I take better responsibility? Yes I could’ve and tried to take responsibly in full; whether or not taking responsibility sooner to avoid hitting that wall cannot be determined.

I tried to do everything and anything in my power to get out of hell of bondage of extreme alpha-mom figures creeping into my life because they have no one else to care for. Unlike the women who have “hit the wall”, they also have done-it too, another vulgar name calling is the “riding the [male genital] caesural” I can’t remember the last time I had such physical encounters via touching an non female family member. I spent the last ten years trying to do anything and everything to break the barriers. It seems like other groups have been able to do so, hell people with more visible disabilities have it easier, despite the 4 years of regress from POTUS Trump in the last 10 than what I had to go through.

Autism is now 1 in 44 cases, and yet there still hasn’t been much attention to the people over the age of 35 because apparently my group’s autism is not as great as the GenX/vaccine injured children who are in their 20s where all the attention is at.

Autism was and never will be my primary identity; but it did become that by others because of their reckless actions, the ableist tendencies, even from within. Factor that autism is more common with males and the underlying sexism that typical males are often subjected to. With all this comes into play, it’s not that I am some Buzz Lightyear figure who’s an alpha male and pisses his lifespan trying to “fix” something (can you say that’s “hitting the wall”?) All I wanted since I close to 13, to repair the things that were intentionally broken (the subtle sexism, the label placement, and the complete writeoffs because the DSM-says-so.)

The only thing I suggest for people younger than me is to learn to be a better fighter than I was. I was too harshly aggressive to be a self-advocate. And this is why I am very critical of many of the activists because if they aren’t properly messaging their ideals properly; then everyone hurts and I have to hate you all because you have given my group a bad name. Yes I am talking to you ASAN aholes!

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The Crap that is “Family Supports”

For many years I have been familiar with the “Family Support” system. It’s exactly what you think it would mean, the family about the individual with a disability without the individual’s attention or presence. The siblings and other family members seem to have this obligation that they are supposed to be the only primary support for that individual. So what does that mean? A lot of stress to occur… so where do they go for respite?

Before COVID-19, there used to be annual conferences, again for the protected-class that is “family support” people, caretakers, parents, siblings, etc. For many years, I’ve been in arguments of why the hell the family should be the primary caretaker of a disabled hierarchal child? Where are family friends? Where is a friend-like figure? Where are cousins? Why the hell should families be the only ones?

For them families feeling obligated to take care of the hierarchal disabled child, this could be extremely taxing. As a result then you get parents that become cockier in age, with the dreams they’ll outlive their kids or hope to bury them because they won’t have to worry about who takes care of them.

What if I told you this could also apply to higher functioning people? What if I told you my family thinks they are obligated to take care of me? Can’t have a bae (err a “date” since I don’t even think I’ll be getting a temporary girlfriend at this point), can’t I have a bestie be there during one day a week or some crazy shit? Why is it ones I can’t eff with?

Maybe it’s by design. But I sure as hell hate “family supports” just as I fucking hate “nuclear families”. They can suck it!

F-ck Father’s Day: You Oughta Know! (Karaoke style)

Every year on Father’s Day, I sing the song to Alanis Morrisette’s You Oughta Know. Because my raw emotions of recent discovery that not only my father not only denied creating me at conception or after birth, but had the audacity to get away trying to burry the body in the closet to my two half siblings who didn’t know I even existed until something hit their Facebook activities in March of 2019 – that was me! Not only that I took the flack for over a year making the mistake of sharing and tagging to only realize, why am I blaming myself? My father should’ve known better!

I was cheated on! He was a 19 year old young man who was such a chauvinistic  dick, that when the moment he had to be a “man” he went into the fucking fetal position and denied, deflect, and defend he did nuttin! This so-called “man” really acted like a pussy, excuse me while I use such vulgarities WITHOUT pride and self gratification! 

He rather see me dead! But hell, he’s buddies with all the female cousins and apparently the sisters too. Maybe he’d respect the existence if I was born a female?

I will never call him a “dad” – he denies the existence of this individual, but why do some members of the family expect that I should respect a man who pisses on masculinity?

I HATE HIM. FROM CONCEPTION, TO BIRTH, FROM WOMB TO THE TOMB. THIS MAN WAS A DICK, IS A DICK, AND WILL DIE AS ONE TOO! 

Father’s Day can suck my dick, and gag on it!

When my Mother Lost Me…

My mother’s social network is very small, mostly two couples, that lean hard right. That barely understands this hot mess of my ASD, that is slightly below typical, but slightly above the average atypical. One of her “friends” has an un’dx case of ADHD, because of course it’s just like ASD. Notice how sarcastic I mean… it’s completely different. While the Fraud on Broad is dead, I believe this what infers to my “low-average IQ” that Ms. Bolick was selling to “the system” as broken-goods.

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Close to brain dead…

I have suspected my brain is heading to severe damage. This is by no means this is being light hearted. Between the damages occurring at the end of the 20th Century, the injustice from that time; to the chaos that was during COVID, getting COVID, and continued mix of sheltering in place and being quarantined during the infection; and the lack of a near term outcome has put a lethal mix going forward. I already was damaged prior to March of 2020, the pre, present and post pandemic situation has made my situation at no point of recovery.

I am afraid I am going to die with my brain exploding internally from all the stress and anxiety that has went skyfold 2 years ago and suspecting it could be another 2 years of uncertainty and lack of stability, and responsibility being pushed solely on me.

I am so angry… I ask myself why I have to be on the receiving end yet again? Why can I not function? Why is everyone around me appears to me to be inpatient and I choose to be who I am?

Autism is not a choice.

Life is not a choice.

Hierarchal children do not ask to be born.

Satan: please take this soul way, I am at a loss now.

 

Lacking Emotional Regulation (Surrounding People)

I am not allowed to be sad, not because of my autism, because it’s too-much for the people in my life.

I do not like to be depressed either, but sadly since my late teens, I have not been allowed the chance to emote properly. The highest range is happiness, and the lowest range is mildly sad. If I have long face, that sends triggers to the mama-bear who feels a need to “fix” the problem to make her feel better. Because the old woman cannot distance herself from the lower thresholds of emotion, I cannot be sad. And if I am sad, she becomes sad.

So sadly, I have been stoic for the last two years in an unique way. I am gracefully being happy while so much shit has been falling to the fan behind me. My mother prides on a quote from a no-name author with zero credentials of “Your only happy if you have the happiest child”, some random BS like that. And being the only child, just makes that pressure even worse, and the mother who can’t sympathize with the autistic child, I mean hierarchal autistic child, doesn’t get it and she refuses to understand.

I know i have a survival rate of 2 years if SHTF, but it has not been tested for a really bad recession (of which I had been calling since 2019) to follow a pandemic. I do not care how my mother wants to spin a version of reality, I want to be able to feel the way I need to feel, and my mother wants to project arrogance (masqueraded as “pride” – of everything’s chill.) At this point the ol woman is acting like a notorious abusive man.

The inability to have proper emotional control has made the situation inherently worse than like any child of any age, to have the self trademarked feelings of present events. To dismiss and project, is basically gaslighting. And if my mother is wondering why my contact has been limited, to even in some instances no-contact while living 24x7x365 for the last couple of years, her brused ego has gotten in the way for me to process the emotions I want to process.

I do not sense any level of recovery anytime soon. I think the best days of my life have passed by me by pure maternal politics and unreasonable control over autonomy and the only way to grieve is silence. Then she wonders why I am so quiet, but the moment I start talking, she goes back to the projection, unhealthy optimism and poor feedback when it comes to empathy.

As my mother would say (and I never use this personally) I cannot win.

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