Life Laundry

Every once in a while I'll just blog about stupid stuff I do all day. I'll just spill, because it's easier to do so here than to talk to someone in real life. That is the biggest--okay, one of the biggest--problem with being an Aspie. I can't just talk to someone. Not even if I really need to vent. I can't do it. I can barely talk to my husband about my little everyday problems. I can't say anything to him that doesn't come out sounding obnoxious. I have the same problem with my mother. She always thinks I'm angry when, really, I just need to complain for a few minutes. Doesn't everyone need to do that?

I just don't know how not to sound irritated, how not to scowl. The only person who can read me most of the time is my son. This is so only because

A. He's just naturally very diplomatic, kind and patient and
B. He spends 23 hours a day with me.

Haha, no not really 23 hours. But he is homeschooled and from the hours of 8am to about 3pm we're usually together in a small house or at the store or library or in the car. So we talk a lot about a lot of things. And he can always tell when I'm about to explode because he did something very disobedient, or because someone else did something rotten, as opposed to when I'm just a bit cranky because I'm hungry or sad about something and don't know how to express sadness the way neurotypicals do. So he changes his behaviors and verbal responses, he adjusts his actions to match my mood. I wish my husband could do that! Ha...

Well, at least my son will have that ability to empathise with a crazy, moody woman when he gets married. Hopefully his wife will be a more patient person than I am, for his sake.

Aspergers...

I'm learning so many things about it these days and wishing I was more informed as a kid. So many problems could have been avoided altogether. I remember about a year ago, my sister in law came up from Austin to visit. She likes to take group photos every time. She said she wanted a photo of me and my son, so we sat on the couch together and posed. She said, "Kelly! Come on, smile!" I said, "I AM smiling!"

And I really thought I was. Actually, I thought I was smirking very playfully, looking youthful and fun. She wrinkled her nose at me and said, "Okay, whatever." Then she took the photo.

A couple weeks later she emailed all the photos to me. I know, I KNOW I was smiling. But OMG, I cringed when I looked at my face in those photos. I looked so angry in every one. I have this...scowl. I did not have a clue until that moment. That was only a year, maybe two, ago.

It explained, once and for all, why people almost never approach me. Here I am, thinking I look just as chipper as everyone else and the whole time everyone else sees a horrible, angry-faced, unapproachable bitch.

I think I might try to make faces in the mirror, see what others are seeing. Maybe those little spats between my husband and I (and my mom and I, too) can be avoided if I don't look so angry when I say things. It's worth a try.

Now, I promised myself I'd read my Jacob book before bed, I've got lessons tomorrow (and they're important because we've been on an extended hiatus due to illness and spring cleaning), ironing, etsy listings, a new jewelry blog, laundry and most importantly, a new LOST blog due, so I gotta wrap this up.

Namaste...

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I don't like blogger.com and i think the name of my blog is stupid. But this is an exercise in patience, which I really need. Plus, I don't ever know when to give up. I'm just writing this blog to see what other colors I can make the text. Believe me, there will be more...