I’m sure everyone is wondering about the ping pong balls, and we will get to that in time. For now, Hi there…. I’m ME, a 46 year old single mother finding out that I have Asperger’s Syndrome (High Functioning Autism, for the “politically correct”). I love to write creatively, but I am not going to do that tonight. I am not out for a Pulitzer, or any high 5’s for a job well written. I’m writing this as a means of discharge, as there is a shit ton going on and I am here completely surrounded by and thus processing with just myself. Quite honestly, it’s exhausting answering and discussing this over and over and over again….
BTW, this is not being written for young eyes to see. Some would say that I should come with a warning, and definitely anything I write at this point in time is not going to be filtered or edited for content.
About those ping pong balls now. Consider that a visual of my brain at any moment in time, especially nowadays and to be honest probably for most of my life. “A VW with a Porsche engine” as my Granddaddy described. Why I have pervasive insomnia, why I am writing this blog instead of focused on paying work tasks long overdue, why I panic and retreat to stare endlessly at the walls or the flowers blooming next door instead of sorting the piles of paperwork and doing the many, many things pending on my ‘to do’ list. Or work. Right now, I am in the biggest freakin’ mess of a lifetime, and it is because of those damn ping pong balls. They morph into racket balls days like today. LOUD. FAST. UNSTOPPING. Allow me some grace and I’ll try to explain.
I’m a domestic violence survivor, and to one degree or another so are my children. My ex husband is in prison for a felony A conviction, a story I won’t be sharing with you tonight. The children and I have been on a whirlwind, trauma affected, journey, for too many years now. He went away in summer of 2013, after over a year of fighting a system and community that did not want to accept the truths presented to them by me – misunderstood, lacking social agility and communication acumen in the real world, just trying to fix things for her kids and ‘do life’ with some semblance of peace, structure, and harmony ME – who took yet another plunge into the normal world seeking help.
I lost my children for several months, NOT heard by those there to serve, protect and help. Seems to be a trend I am now learning of, as I read “Perhaps most worrying of all was the third theme that emerged: abuse that was being reported went unnoticed, overlooked, or not taken seriously — even in one case where it was reported to the police. Many thought this was partly due to the relatively superior ability of the non-autistic abuser to subtly control the wider public perception of the relationship, with abusers often using their superior social fluency to make the abuse seem trivial or nonexistent”.
This is what happened to me, over and over again. Seven times by my ex and if one is being honest, several times with my daughter since moving. Then the worst imaginable happened and we are where we are now. Never believed, perceivably mocked for reporting the abuse, given little regard by the system there to help. I tried. Again and again, I tried to leave and build a life for my child.. and then my children, when my son came along.
We moved – a lot. Both before the criminal trial in 2013, and after. The ‘after’ moves comprised 10 moves across 3 states in 3 years, landing us where we are now about 38 months ago. We are all shaken, we all lost everything -materially, “family”, community, familiarity, some friends. The moving was for safety and then for necessity. On a single parent, no child support or family support, budget – it’s only in coming to live in a family owned home that we have a roof over our heads. Thankfully, now it is a NEW roof (a story for another time) after a near 2 year battle to make it happen. Structurally sound (mostly) – for the kids. A place to put down roots and to watch them spread, a place to really call home. A real neighborhood, with streets to ride bikes upon. That’s what I have been after for them, so they can stop – breathe – and get back to being kids. I thought we would move here, find some second hand furniture, paint and freshen up things, and go to the beach! Regroup, rebuild our lives, return to peace and find healing.
It’s not quite worked out that way. The house was ashambles when we arrived, and that has been an ever present stressor and factor, ongoing to a point as I write this, yes. My sweet daughter and son, both with juvenile ptsd and having dealt with more than any children should in any amount of time – Gosh, I just love them both so much! Within weeks of getting here though, things starting unraveling with my daughter. I worked to get her appropriate help within the avenues available to me. It has been a haunty endeavor, with a couple steps forward and then a dozen backwards. I don’t want to write in any way that shames her, I do love her and still now do not want anything more than to find her the appropriate help so she can be restored – soul, heart and mind – which she fully deserves. The power play, the severed dynamic between us, and the equally strong desire and need to be present for my son (who is also ASD), has torn me into shreds over the past 38 months. I understand it more now, the struggles with parenting a NT but emotionally traumatized child and an ASD child as an Aspien adult (with PTSD and Panic Disorder, too), as I am trying to learn a new truth through the lense of Asperger’s Syndrome.
“Parents with Aspergers exhibit either minor and/or significant problems in their parenting. Problems experienced by moms and dads who meet most or all of the diagnostic criteria for Aspergers are significant and yet little understood in the child welfare community. This is in part because the able autistic parent community is invisibly disabled.
Problems in parenting are linked directly to the core neuro-cognitive clinical features of Aspergers itself, namely weak central coherence, poor cognitive shifting & lack of a theory of mind.”
Another interesting article states further problems with women yet officially diagnosed and their run-ins and problems with the system.
“Autistic women are, however, still likely to remain undiagnosed. A survey by the National Autistic Society found that 42% of females have been misdiagnosed, compared with 30% of males, while twice as many women were undiagnosed compared with men (10% compared with 5%).But experts are warning that these mothers risk having their children forcibly adopted in the fight to get them diagnosed and supported, as social workers misinterpret the parent’s autistic traits as indicating potential harm to the child.“Their own autism, often undiagnosed, means they put professionals’ backs up and can be accused of causing or fabricating their children’s condition,” said Gould.” These are very worrying statistics,” said Baron-Cohen. “Whether these mothers have a formal diagnosis or not, if a lot of these mothers who have autistic children have undiagnosed autism themselves, they might struggle with communication with professionals and appear confrontational rather than diplomatic. The risk is that social services see this as a difficult mother rather than recognising her communication issues are a part of her own disability.” More here.
Definitely I have been misunderstood by the child welfare community, in the state that re-traumatized my children and myself after the arrest and indictment of my ex husband, and definitely by the community and service providers that I have sought help from here in our new place. Perhaps why I fight yet again, for my children, who are – again – in foster care. Definitely 100% without a doubt – me. I have felt, personally, as a one armed Captain, trying to navigate a ship, that is attached to a rollercoaster, atop a tsunami wave, as I have worked to remediate this home, settle the family into a new place, learn where things are in this new place, continue to work to earn enough to keep the bills paid…. all coming at me rapid fire, without any order, at the same time. Without viable help, though it has been sought from every avenue, and a few new avenues invented in an effort to make headway, without success.
Definitely I am 100% Aspie. Textbook, some would say. In 1994, when Asperger’s was added officially to the DSM-IV, I was 22. In college. Studying psychology and theater. Without but a couple friends…. well, really just one – Sue. Totally misunderstood by my parents for my line of study, for a lot of things. Completely depressed.
I remember telling Sue mid term fall 1993, that I felt that I had to either disappear, since I felt like I was from another planet, or kill myself. So fucking LOST. I didn’t kill myself… I did think about it and that is true, and typical of Aspie girls around that age. I left college, boarded a plane January 1994, took off to California. Where I was further misunderstood, lost the job I had and the place I had to live in the same day, and ended up on a stage at City Limits, stripping. Determined not to return to the world that had turned its back on me, forgotten me, misunderstood and thus penalized me. Totally fucking Aspie.
Yes, I await a means to get an official diagnosis. It’s a matter of being a poor single Mom, making “too much” (19k last year – puhleeeese!) for Medicaid, and not enough to afford private insurance. I have sought out and found the official test online however – The RAADS-R…. scored a 199. Check it out below. Take it yourself if you want. Make an account, answer the defining questions, and then go for it. Would love to hear about your results.
I haven’t a clue “who I am” outside the tasks I perform, and I never have.
Well, that’s it for the first edition of my ramblings. Maybe getting some of this out will help sleep to come, help focus to return! Til next time, Angel Love and Peace to each of you.