Okay, my goals for tonight: do a blog post. My goals for tomorrow: reply to the comments previously left by the lovelies who’ve commented that I’m not dealing with right now. My throat hurts. I’ve got the sniffles. I’ve got a cough. The wind is loud outside and I’ve got a lot going on and I’m starting to overload.
Requests from my followers and friends! Do any of you know any good dating advice that I can use to tell Flapjack more about the Autism thing? I know I’ve told her I have sensory issues and I do the stim thing (which she also does… the stim thing). I told her I make random noises and that I tend to be blunt and open and honest. You know, the sort of things that most people are semi-okay with.
I don’t know how to tell her about the meltdowns and shutdowns. I don’t know how to tell her about going nonverbal or that I need everything written down and variants to my routine is almost impossible for me to deal with. I don’t know how to tell her that I need a lot of time to recover from trips out exploring or that earplugs and headphones and sunglasses are necessities and I know it looks weird inside. That eye contact is super hard.
At least she thinks I’m cute! I’ve got that going for me!
My friends also want us all to finally meet up at Harry Potter Land. I know it’s not called that, but it’s what I’m calling it. It’s not til next year sometime. It was my suggestion, but I’m feeling anxious about that too. What if I have a meltdown or a shutdown at the park? What about the plane ride down? I’ve never been on a plane. What should my plans be to take care of myself? How much should I save up for food and souvenirs and stuff? What if I keep having to leave the park early and they get sick of it?
I know that all these “what if’s” have solutions that I can work through and that I can plan ahead for any contingency and these are just Drop Bears trying to ruin my fun. I invited Flapjack to go with us. She’s not sure she’ll be able to go yet, but she said she’ll go if I want her to.
I also want to save up for a passport and a trip out to the UK to see Flapjack, and also Mama Bear. For Harry Potter Land, it’s gonna be Mama Bear and her family (husband and child), Kuma-chan and her S.O., Cthulu Bait and his S.O. and maybe his sister and her S.O. too since Cthulhu Bait lives down in Florida. So many new people to meet! It’s very overwhelming and I know this is something I’m going to have to work on with Charon. For now, I’m just researching different ways that High Functioning Autists can fly without getting an anal probe for acting autistic.
Which brings me to the third point of my post. What I’m working on with Charon. I can’t recall if I mentioned it, but Charon is going to be having knee surgery because her knee sucks and she isn’t old yet but she is getting old. If she waits too much longer then her knee will be harder to fix. Her surgery isn’t until the end of April. I had thought it was the end of March. Her birthday is end of March. Anyway.
So, I told her yesterday that I wanted to work on Eating Disorder stuff and Relationship Issues/fears. So Charon gave me a book she wanted me to read. It’s called “Eating in the Light of the Moon”. I downloaded it onto my tablet. I have not started it yet. I want to finish that Self-Compassion book first. I read a bit of that today and am planning on reading a bit more before bed.
Really, what I think Charon wanted me to think about this week was the Origin Story of my eating disorder stuff and unhealthy body image. What was the First Event that began my decline of self-acceptance and self-worth? I can think of a lot of them. A majority of them beginning with my mum and her weird sexualization of me. Like when I was six and went to the toilet all by myself wearing overalls and didn’t pee myself, but couldn’t get one of the buttons back up. She did it and said for me to always make the buttons be up because it looks like I’ve had sex otherwise. Let me reiterate that I was six years old.
Another time, I had gotten a bit of a belly, as kids sometimes do when they eat a lot, and she made me go over to her and she asked if anyone was touching me inappropriately because I looked pregnant. I was not pregnant (I was nine). I was just fat. Okaasan has said that my shoulders are too wide and so certain clothes won’t look good. My thighs are too big. My neck is too thick. My breasts are too big. (Side note: when I first had to get bras, she manhandled my not-boobs and asked my dad about them and mentioned me having to start wearing bras. I was nine. Again, what the fuck?)
She’s said that my feet were too big (I wear like, a size 8/9 mens) and that I couldn’t get nice shoes anymore. That I’d always be a “thick” girl and I’d better get used to it. She would make me kneel in front of her while she picked at my face when I started getting acne. She made comments on my hair and the way I did my make-up. I’ve realized that I started wearing baggy clothes when I hit puberty because she made everything I did into sexual shit, made it seem like I was some kind of promiscuous hussy. Fuck, even my brother said that my baggy sweaters made me look “easy” in high school. (Thanks bro, that comment came right after I was raped. Really helpful.)
We were really poor and couldn’t always afford food. I ended up eating a lot when I wasn’t home, mostly junk food at “friends'” houses. I got fat from the sheer amount of junk, even if I didn’t have food at home I could eat. When I wanted to eat at home, I got yelled at. One summer, I distinctly remember eating salsa out of a can with a tiny measuring spoon because I was so hungry and hadn’t gotten food in days. Yes, I was still fat because of the enormous amount of junk I ate when I wasn’t home. The loads of soda I drank because sometimes there was no water and that’s all there was.
My mum called me fat. My teachers called me fat. I weighed then as much as I do now, between 160-170. I didn’t manage to dip below 150 until high school, after the rape and I just stopped eating or I threw up everything I ate.
I was force fed. Made to sit at a table and not allowed to leave unless I ate the entire plate of food. I didn’t want to eat this Taco Rice stuff she made a lot and I remember going to bed as a tiny child (I was around 6-7 I think) and just bawling because I was hungry and we didn’t get snacks a lot. She made me get up and eat that shitty Taco Rice cold. A whole bunch of it. I still hate Taco Rice.
I was fat. I was ugly and I wasn’t clean (because our hot water heater broke one year and I cannot stand ice cold water because of my sensory issues). I was fat and ugly and unclean. I wasn’t allowed outside to play often at one point because my parents were afraid CPS would take my brother and I away.
When Okaasan, Oniisan, and I moved in with my aunt and uncle, things got worse for me. I was built bigger (taller and bigger bones) than their eldest. On top of which, I was fat. So I was called fat. I was told to eat less. I got yelled at if I ate less. Anything I liked was gross. I ate wrong. I wasn’t allowed to eat my favourite foods without having people put their dirty hands literally on my food. I won’t eat food that’s been touched like that. I don’t like people commenting on my food. I don’t like people touching my food. My food is mine and your food is yours so bugger off.
I guess there’s a lot of possible starters for my body image issues. Most centering around things Okaasan has said or done. When I talk negatively/unhealthily/ineffectively about myself, I noticed I use words like “Gods, Sarcastic Autist, you are so fat, look at that belly pooch, you should be ashamed”. But when I talk positively/healthily?/effectively? about myself, I use language like “I’m awesome. I did so well on that form. I totally did shit in therapy that was productive. Go me.” See the difference? I think I should bring that up to Charon next week too.
Anyway, I’m off to do things other than blog because I’m emotionally done right now. Thank you all for your patience during this transitional period for me.
Oh, wait, before I log off for the night, I just wanted to say this real quick: I have a thing about my collarbones. It may be a remnant of when I was really active with my eating disorder stuff and I wanted very bony collarbones that I could stick quarters in and stuff, but I think my collarbones are the number one thing I like most about myself. When I’m super anxious and stimming super hard, I will grab my shirt and bang my fingers against my collarbone to feel and hear that thud thud thud. I like touching them when I’m feeling fat because it helps me remember that I’m not a complete fat ass.
Anyway, Flapjack and I were texting via Whatsapp and she mentioned that she liked my collarbones. I was shocked and then so happy and excited that I almost started crying. It’s a big deal for me and it really shifted my view of myself a bit. Super fat people don’t have collarbones. And I must have collarbones because Flapjack commented on them and she LIKED them on top of it! It just gives me this sense of overwhelming emotion and I don’t quite know how to handle that.
Anyways, off to read or probably just go to bed. Thanks for hanging around!
-The Sarcastic Autist