Nerbus

Spidey gets a liddle nerbus... all di humans tryin to step on me...

 

Spidey gedding oudda hear!

Today is piano music day. I've been playing around with my guitar a little. Trying to find that peace until the new job comes through.

Anxiety

    You try not to think about it. You tell yourself that everyone goes through these things. But then you worry. What if something happens, you say to yourself? Can I predict the future? What if I don't get that job or that promotion? What if I say the wrong thing? Do I have the money to make it go away? And what about the next time? And the time after that? What will it be then? Will I have the ace up my sleeve? What will I do when I can't make it go away? Where will I run? Will tomorrow be the day my luck runs out? Will I get hit by a bus, get robbed? Will the kidnapper that abducted and killed someone from just down the street pick me next time? I drive by that place almost every time I go out. Granted, I didn't know those people, but what if I had been there when he came in with a gun? what would I have done? They're both dead now. 

 

Nonono, you can deduct the stolen acorns as a casualty loss, not a business loss.

    I am closing the tax and bookkeeping business permanently for health reasons. I look forward to working again soon.

    I think there is a fundamental misunderstanding of autism in the community. There is a gap of understanding that creates unrealistic expectations. It leaves me chasing shadows. So long as that gap exists, I will always fall short. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy: to believe in the impossible so that you can fail. 

    Why is it impossible? Autistic social behavior is different. It leads to miscommunication and in a field like tax, communication is important. Hypothetically, if I could simply do the taxes and have someone else do all the communicating, including the nonverbal communication, then it could work. If I could be a puppet master, and have a puppet interact with bosses and clients, then yes, I could do taxes.

    Unfortunately that's not how the world works. I'm tired of trying to explain the obvious to people with closed ears. It's like screaming at a wall. There's no medication for this. There's no machine. There's simply reality, and the reality is that the business world is not autistic friendly. I really just don't understand this world sometimes. There's a reason I don't get hired at jobs. There's a reason I'm disabled. You can close your ears and scream lalala all day long but it does not in fact convert me into a non-autistic. 

    So long as the world engages in magical thinking about what I am and am not, I will always fail. I will always fall short. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy. I cannot keep chasing shadows. I'm trying to find a job that will hire an autistic, because I cannot run a tax and bookkeeping business as an autistic. I would need people to interface between me and the clients and that's not realistic. It's like having a translator follow me around. I can't even manage to get people that know full well what autism is to understand and I'm tired of explaining. It's wishful thinking but they're addicted to it and together we drive the doctors crazy trying to achieve the impossible. Somebody has to have the sense to say "stop". Otherwise, it's eternally a square peg through a round hole. That's not paranoia that's just common sense.

Losing Ground

    Spidey tought dat di bat would lose intewest qwuickly. Apter all, it was a small house, a bunch ob mispits, and not anudder bat nor castle nor cabe. 

    “I thought it vould look better from the rafters.” A voice echoed from above.

    Dat bat. Can’t appweciate a good cobweb. He was looking more awake and he would get this funny look in his eye when he got hungry.

    “You know… a few careful torches could really vamp up the place. I was known for my style back in zee Western Wood.” He paused as if for questions. When none came, he continued anyways. “It was quite a majestic place. Uncle Boromir used to be quite fond of telling us stories, so much so that we began to call him Uncle Bor. He never quite figured out vhy. So one day, when he was putting us to sleep with his tales of the crypt - he used to put himself to sleep all the time, let me tell you- we snuck out inbetween bouts of consciousness, and we flew into the Cerbal bats as they were on their way out of town to take vacation when one of them challenged me. He said, ‘Vlad, you old good for nothing! I bet you’d never have the guts to leave the country and explore more of the world.’ Vell, It didn’t occur to me that he was merely trying to get me away from his cousin Trina until I was on a boat with a bunch of cars and video machines and leaving harbor with my coffin and trunk.”

    There was a flapping of wings and suddenly Vlad was by the window, peering out down upon the backyard. He rarely stood still, shifting his weight and dancing around until something caught his eye. They were sharp eyes, and he peered imperiously at the yard and the woods beyond.

    Spidey turned to his webbing, absently spinning a thread while he waited for the next shoe to fall. He was werking on his greatest creation yet: a cobweb of the little homeless girl named Mona from the alley down the street who suffered from a most tasty looking collection of fleas. He had decided to call his work the Mona Fleasa. He was already lining up a dealer in his imagination. 

    “I don’t suppose it has a basement?” The bat was craning his head around the window sill.

    “Of course there’s a basement, the family that lived here put all their extra stuff in it before leaving Spidey di place. It gets nice and moist because the water table isn’t far below the bedrock… hey, wait a minute… don’t you hab some sort ob cabe to fly back to?!?!”

    It was too late. He had already flown out the window, on his way to measure the basement for a coffin.

Doing More with Less

    They say life has seasons. I think that is very true for someone like me. I think I'm moving into a new season, putting the past behind. This season I am focusing on fixing my financial situation by reducing consumption.

    I'm not the one who is the smiling gladhander. I don't have the personality or the talent for it. I will never be Mr. Popular. I do believe we have destinies of sorts. Mine lies in written expression. 

    I'm continuing to look for a day job while exploring my creative ideas. Hopefully, they will come to me in due time. I have hit the limits of the medication. It's time to be my natural self. 

I have a bad feeling about this place...

 

Chosen

Actions committed in the blindest of ignorance

Facts inconvenient, truth intermittent.

Protestations overwritten, narratives formed without contrition

As history becomes a lie.

Heroes are minted and pasts are erased,

As no one cries for the wrongs now replaced,

And as they rise up to claim their new jewels,

the Chosen eagerly climb onto the shoulders of fools...

Drama contrived and plots newly written,

With murderous emotions, the witnesses smitten

screaming for the heads of false demons from the past

And eager for a villain to sacrifice at last

Deaf to the voices of reason and caution

Charging forth to the point of exhaustion

Their mania for the blood of the token guilty

Will erase all the past and complete the new history

Confusion resolved with self-justifications

Hardened ears, deaf to exonerations

Determination and volume the measure of justice

Reinforcing the story lest the truth should resist.

Echoes of lies resound through the air

Till nothing remains of the truth that was there.

Still Looking...

    It seems part time work is not that easy to find. I'm going to try to broaden my search a bit. I'm moving from Accounting to retail more. 

Differences since Clozaril DC

I do feel different since discontinuing Clozaril. I feel more emotional. I feel less armored.

Some of my doctors will practically commit hara kiri if I suggest I don't have bipolar. Which is exactly what Prichards did. At least he had the sense to understand that trust had been broken. Some people don't like autism or believe in DID. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do about that. What I can do is educate my doctors. For example, one ER psychiatrist said that Bipolar is "one of THE MOST OVERDIAGNOSED things in the book." Ive been in these hospitals and centers and I'm convinced the man is absolutely correct. There's plenty of bipolar labelees. It's just that the whole point of these labels is to help people. If the patterns fit, the meds help, the education helps, then great. If it doesn't, then its time to move on. All of the meds I'm on help other disorders. Mood Stabilizers NEVER worked. Not from day one. It's time to move on. 

Life is short.

I feel that what I grew up doing is not sustainable. I've been pushing the medication and the science too hard and now it's come full circle. I need to be deliberate, not repeat failed strategies. The medication helps, but I need to go slow, reduce expenses, not take on more and more. It's clear to me that pushing the limits of medicine has reached its limits. Reducing consumption and holding steady is going to have to be my goal. I don't want to be bitter or demanding. I want to appreciate the small things. 

I got all my meds approved and filled. I'm focusing a little better. The cat's doing well.

Person:

Do you know what your problem is????

Spidey:

 No, tell me ebbyting.

Yesterday's inquiries didn't go very far. No positions available. I'm still working on getting vyvanse approved.

Always look at the bright side ob your lice!

Prior authorizations

The insurance continues to drag its feet on vyvanse. I'm a little annoyed. It's a really good medication. It gives a very smooth effect as I recall. I hope they change thier minds. Otherwise, its concerta for me. Nevermind its generic and shouldn't cost that much. I was excited it went generic for exactly this reason.

Advantages of counseling

The advantages of counseling for someone with autism are numerous. They include some of the same advantages that anyone can gain, but particularly additional insight into social behavior, social problem-solving, personal insight, and improved communication. Some people don't believe in autism or counseling or whatever they choose not to believe in. Some people don't believe in evolution, some people don't believe in God, somewhere there may still be people who believe the earth is flat. Some people believe in ghosts; other people do not. I believe in patience and personal space. It's how I tolerate others. I give them space when we don't communicate well, and I have patience for when they are ready. I have to have patience for myself as well. That's something I've learned: I'm not always able to meet people where they are. Sometimes I need space.

The dietary changes continue to pay dividends with my blood pressure and my metabolic. I'm still applying to jobs, but I hope I get a decent part-time soon. I want to be productive and earn some money. It also helps keep my writing fresh.

Focus

This time spent alone has helped in some ways. I gained back a little weight, the digestive symptoms calmed down, and I feel more clarity from this time to think. It's making more sense. Screening my communications has been helpful as well. I feel less confusion with fewer voices. It's not that I don't like people, I just need the clarity of the quiet.

Continuing...

I'm still looking for part time work. I'm trying to minimize and carefully filter my social contact so my life can be less confusing and scam free. I think my health care providers would appreciate fewer people messing with me. It gives them less work to do. Like Artstick said, can't have too many cooks in the kitchen. The less chaos, the better.

Wrapping up my life of Crime

Hopefully, I'll be working again very soon. I'm tired of healthcare. Only now I'm due to see the dentist! *sigh*