I am very disappointed in you

People griping me out for not being published yet- my publisher, my psychologist, my DAD… O_O

That’s right, my DAD, the old Mennonite who wants me to pull his gold teeth out of his head with a pliers after he dies. ermahgerd The convo I had with him last Friday was insane and eye opening, two long hours of poking out my eyeballs and banging my head on various walls. But he completely supports me, an astonishing surprise that’s had me reeling the entire weekend.

That just gave me an idea for a Christmas present. Scott keeps bugging me about what I want. Click this to go get some yourself.

 photo pinkpliers.jpg

Before I do anything else, I’ve got to get this Bluejacky thing *done*. It’s my Mt. Everest, and the air is so thin up here (I’m nearly at the top now after a lifetime of anguish) that I can barely breathe. The world looks so tiny down there, and once I leap off I’ll be way up in the sky all by myself, tacking through jet streams and running the breezes. (I’m learning sailing/nautical terminology for a cool story I’ve had going on the side for a few years). I don’t mean to sound so dramatic, but just the thought of a hard core interview is terrifying.

I’m a hermit, tucked away in my cave. Since I first came out public on the internet in 2008 about who I really am, I’ve heard privately from a number of people literally around the world about heavy things they live with and can’t bear to say out loud. I have been surprised at how many people around this globe have silently followed me through everything I do because I brave the dreaded conflict and dare to deal with some things head on in public. I’ve gotten emails and private messages for years from people struggling with mental health diagnoses, autoimmune disorders, sexual angst, abusive relationships, suicide questions…

 photo festivus.jpg

I intimately know what it’s like to lurk in the greasy back alleys of black despair. I KNOW what it’s like to live without hope, longing for even a taste of joy an a hollow emptiness that renders philosophical debates about life into oblivion. I know what it’s like to live believing nothing good will ever happen again.

I’m no expert, but I’m here to say it’s possible to make it through ALL that and spring forth with joy. I’m not selling salvation, I haven’t been brainwashed or drugged, I’m not hanging on to a psychotic belief in anything like I’ve seen so many people do when they reach the end of their ropes and think they have nowhere else to turn.

What I have is what I was born with- a lack of empathy, a blunt list of questions, and a gift for words. What I need *right now* is a realistic time pressure. Can I get this done before The Walking Dead returns in February? Because I’m gonna roll with TWD next year, after holding out all this time. In the meantime, another crazy roller coaster ride through the holidays around here and maybe the reason I’m not on the keyboard is because I’m plugging my fingers into my ears and singing LALALALALALALA. If you wanna see real evidence of my change of heart on video, here you go. I look like a dork, but who doesn’t, right? Best way to deal with severe social anxiety is head on. Surprisingly, I don’t have a problem with the camera part, or the talking part, so people don’t understand me at all when I say I have anxiety, which, yes, is medically documented as being pretty severe. See my last post for an explanation of sorts.

I’m done with this. Back to real life. Go see my Winter Storm Klingon pictures and video on my facebook while I get back to laundry and working on Christmas cards and presents.

wonky, worms, and the Borg

I’ve got this weird thing in my head where I ‘wake up’ to realizations months and sometimes even years after things happen. I’m not sure if this is what makes time passing wonky for me or if it’s the other way around. On one level I’m with it, I know what’s going on, on another level I’m not aware of myself at all being in the now and then later when I have memories I have to sort them out like a puzzle figuring out the time order they came in, and on another level still (and this is where it comes months and years later) I suddenly ‘get’ the big picture from a third person viewpoint. So basically I can coexist with a factoid that everyone takes for granted (and really doesn’t care about), realize it’s a thing way later even though I was involved all along, and then suddenly even wayer laterer get this thunderclap how I must have looked knowing something and not knowing it at the same time.

I’m obsessed with the Schrodinger’s cat dilemma and the photo slit experiment. I don’t think existence has to be perceived even if it purportedly must be observed. I’m not sure perceiving is enough in the “I think therefore I am” equation. Everything around us is pretty solid ‘am’ without too much thought leaking around. It’s like saying “I’m aware of my existence, therefore I exist.” Worms accomplish that every day, they just don’t have words for it, unless maybe they do but they’re not sharing a vast wealth of planet knowledge with us. The problem with the cat is no one assumes it will fight to get out of the box and knock the geiger counter around in the process, possibly setting off a false reading or even disabling it, and when we finally open the box we get a tangle of cat in our faces and stagger about clutching our bloody eyeballs.

It’s bothering me that even though I can download my entire twitter history, address links are not yet available for individual mobile tweets, at least on my phone, so even though I can find the very first time I tweeted with a particular person out of 46,600 tweets, I can’t open that tweet and I can’t pull it up on a twitter search even with precise word combinations because it’s too old and I can’t scroll back that far through the actual history on my laptop without bogging down to the point where it can’t load any more because the script stops running. Why do I want that, you ask. Because if I could open that tweet I could see the rest of the conversation around it, I say. Why is that so important, you ask. Because I have a weird wonky time tangled memory and it’s nice to be able to see what actually happened and the order it happened in, I say. Why do you even care, you say. Because after a lifetime of aspie disconnection it’s nice to finally be able to plug emotional bonds into the correct holes in my head, I say. Seeing something in print is more solid to me than just remembering something, like reinforcement. I feel lost when something seems vague and blurry in my head because I wasn’t paying the right kind of attention in the first place to make notes the same way other people do in face to face and phone conversations.

I’m an after the fact person. I’ve been tweeting with several groups of people for a long time and it’s just now hitting me they seem to know me and my idiosyncrasies much better than I do theirs because it took me so many months in the first place to establish which avatar goes with whose name (and both changing every little bit throws me off), where they live and which kids and pets are theirs if they have any, the different jobs they have, the things they like. I’m loving every minute of it, actually, wish my whole life had been twitter so it would have made more sense. I have an awesome memory for something I’ve seen in print and have irritated people for years quoting something they wrote ages ago in blogs or forums and they either have no recollection or aren’t remembering it properly, but I really suck at real time conversations because the words don’t come through my eyes. Sometimes I feel like a photon, like I’ve been in two (or more) different places for one event, and it takes awhile for memories of events to sift down into something I can associate into a timeline.

I wasn’t aware until my 30’s that this is a cognitive deficit I live with, and wasn’t aware until ten years later that it’s considered such a devastating brain problem that people who work with brain trauma victims and psychological assessment can’t believe I was able to hold jobs and make it through college. I work very hard at social mapping, and lately twitter is a huge part of being more successful with it. I can’t even imagine going back to a life without twitter. Social media is a godsend for me. I feel like I understand the attraction the Borg queen offered, being able to finally plug in and be accepted on a level I’ve never experienced before, and hear the world sing its song in my head. Through my eyeballs. But really and truly in my head once those brain implants get here.
 

brain sex, robot style

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
      If this be error and upon me proved,
     I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116 is my favorite. I’ll never forget the first time I heard my favorite line- “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.”

I could care less about romantic love. Scott says something is wrong with me and I’m ruined, but I can’t stop giggling when frogs pop into my mind in the middle of it. I think, for me, the real connection is a brain thing. Personally, I believe the roots of true love start between parent and child, and that whole alteration thing is about accepting each other for who we are and not feeling compulsed to fix or change each other to suit our own whims. Still, this sonnet sparks a little deep thought (I’m not using it in context as discussed at Shakespeare’s Sonnets).

Going forward, strong caution on this post. Maybe I should have titled it Sexual Synesthesia and Asperger’s or something, but I think the title I’ve got is catchier. I’m putting this post out there as a ‘forewarned is forearmed’ before I get super serious and put this stuff into one of the books I’m working on. This book in particular will look at the darker side of growing up with Asperger’s, although there is plenty of cute to go around as well, like in aspie lovin’, which I think fits perfectly with Sonnet 116.

I describe the synesthesia I live with at Synesthesia. I’ve written about my sexuality sysnesthesia in the following posts, so I’ll leave that up to readers to play catch up, because I think it’s redundant to say it all again. I’ve read them so I’m going to skip down to the next paragraph.

sex is wrong, or coming out of the pandimensional closet

Lexx and psychological health, perhaps

Twitter friends have been having fun joking with me about whether I am a robot (it’s the world’s greatest pickup line, & the robot name variations on Pinky keep growing- Pinky 5, Pink-E, Pink3PO), little knowing the depths of chaos theory I’ve investigated and what that portends for artificial intelligence. I keep saying I’m not a big fan of robots, but over the last few days it’s become apparent that I’m actually quite familiar with a plethora of scifi robot characters, including androids, cyborgs, and synthetics. My most favoritist robot is the Electric Monk from Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. I’ve also touched a little on brain studies in a number of classes, and although I’m no expert, I’m probably more familiar with the human brain than most people I meet. From physical and psychological development to the philosophies of self and existence and all the weird fiction I can get in between, I seem to have had a fixation on brain stuff most of my life.

A couple of the neatest things I like about brains is the inherent propensity for symbology and mapping. Even simple brains must associate recognizing something in the outer environment as a memory of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ in relation to what the organism feels compelled get done in its life, and by the time brains reach the size of walnuts there is already extensive social mapping. Humans are so brainy that symbols take on multilayers of meaning and context, allowing us to enjoy things like sarcasm, while mapping grows so complex that humans literally invent more things to map just to keep mapping, resulting in a gaming industry that is currently rocking the planet.

I’m uniquely interested in these kinds of things because, while I am in no way mentally deficit, I am socially deficit and have spent my life putting extra time into figuring other people out and how I fit into their viewpoints. The kinds of thoughts I have are not the kinds of thoughts people around me generally have, and general consensus is that my kinds of thoughts occur because something is inherently wrong with me to begin with. None of us knew for years that I skirt the fringe of autism, although my poor mother suspected long before it was fashionable for definitions to stretch out and allow little things like the word ‘verbal’, because I really don’t shut up, and it’s usually not long before most people find me very annoying.

One of my favorite fiction authors for retrospective thought on thought itself is Douglas Adams. Like the Grebulon ship, there seems to be a hole where my central mission module belongs. If you’re the sort of brainiac who loves brain melt puzzle thinking and you haven’t heard of these things, click those links right now. I’ll wait for you.

I’ve often said I feel like I should be able to plug into other people like R2D2 plugs into a wall socket to get information. I’ve had to go out of my way to learn the social dance etiquettes that most people pick up on automatically while they’re still children. I tend to prefer function over form, which makes me obnoxiously rude sometimes, the way people in Star Trek might think Vulcans are rude, but it’s cool because I tend to think of them back the way Vulcans think about humans, so we’re even. All the same, it’s a relief to me when I find ways to expedite interactive processes because having to route around all the extra words of ‘how was your day’ without lapsing into literal interpretation kind of wears me out. Once I finally realized I don’t have to actually diagnostically report in, life got a little easier.

The internet is a godsend for me. It is exactly what I want when I interact. Words go straight into my head without the social cues, and oddly, I actually get the social stuff just fine like this, although other people still inject emotion into the content I share and that mystifies me. I’m starting to get the hang of subtext, but I find it disturbing that other people don’t find it disturbing how prevalent subtext really is. What is the point of language and symbolic exchange if words are rife with unspoken words and don’t exactly mean what they look like they say? But, again, once I realized that it’s more like playing a game, things got a little easier. All the same, even though information exchange on the internet is blissful for me, if that’s all it is then it’s kind of sad. I do, after all, need human contact, so I am learning to say ‘Hello, how was your day’ on a keyboard. Irony and I are bedfellows.

Brain sex is a phrase I coined a few years ago to describe to myself the thrill I get connecting to other people and their ideas and enthusiasm on the internet. I don’t necessarily need to play the comment-on-each-other’s-blogs game, but it’s fun to run into stimulating ideas coming out of other brains. I kind of feel like this is Borg Basic or something. The internet started out being an extension of our brains, but now our brains have become extensions of the internet. Whatever is going on, I like it. Twitter especially is a mental polyamorist’s dream come true (and therein lies the scandal in using the world’s greatest pickup line, perhaps).

Brain sex is only a metaphor, you say. Ah, but I experience real chemical changes or chemical reinforcements when I play on twitter, I say. I think we all do. Talking to each other is titillating to the point where stronger bonds are made in 140 characters or less than are made in chat rooms and forums, which in their day made stronger bonds than between people living next door to each other. Twitter has become a living thing, a self organizing system efficiently channeling like thinkers together.

The thrill for a brain gamer like me is the quantity one can get into a thought that is restricted to a tiny configuration. Word construction rules fly out the door in favor of packing space, and people who get really good at it can actually receive twitter awards. Knowing a few word tricks can get a person’s twitter content picked up by internet publications, and it’s been all the rage on other media to follow hashtag feeds on twitter as a way of sampling what a general population is thinking about this or that. But again, it’s the connection to actual people in real time that brings the satisfaction. I like feeling like I’m part of the world, maybe special enough to be part of a twitter gang.

But it’s not often I run into someone who can stop me dead in my tracks with four words, certainly no one had ever done it before on the internet until about 5 days ago on twitter. I have no idea what any of it means outside of my own head, but I think I have found someone who can brain game with me without having to fake it. I could be wrong, but it sure felt like brain sex to me.

I’ve been torn the last few days, but if I’m going to play the subtext game, I think I’m going with “Yes, I am a robot.” If you’ve come this far and missed it, I’m talking about the Asperger’s. Kinda took the question literally, but since it was my first time being the recipient of the world’s greatest pickup line, I had to work my way through the logic loops and construct loop counters when I couldn’t find my way out of the maze. I’m a really advanced robot.

SnarkAlecs, Syfy, and Twitter, oh my

I have never fit into a group in my whole life. I’m the sore thumb sticking out in every get together, club, class, and forum. Even when I think I’m being subtle I glow like neon. Sooner or later I suck at being friends, too, as lightly detailed in my Fun Myspace Survey on my Bluejacky blog (the Menudo part to the End of the World part), but I’m too busy being busy to wallow longer than two minutes at a time in weepy black depressions. My tagline on Bluejacky since 2008 has been “I am the cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me. -Rudyard Kipling”.

Twitter changed all that. I was working on my plan to reconstruct my internet empire from my old evil villain days (I now accept that a few people found me a profoundly annoying boat rocker), quietly tweeting to a seemingly unnoticing world and politely swapping links with a few other scifi webmasters last winter when I suddenly found myself being swooped on by a little twitter gang telling me “good morning” and “happy hump day” and “TGIF” and many other yappy little niceties through the week, week after week after week….

The other webmasters’ sites in case you’re interested-
SF Series and Movies
Nerd Movie
SyFyDesigns

Insert context here- The reason I suck at being friends is because I have Asperger’s and I’ve spent most of my life not getting what the social dance in conversations is all about until recently, so I couldn’t imagine why in the world this little gang persistently kept tweeting hello to me. I pulled one aside to ask why, he said “Because it’s nice.” Ok, so it wasn’t anything weird or suspicious, but just people being nice to me out of the blue for no reason I could discern, which flummoxed me. (The unspoken ‘gossip’ in the survey link above runs pretty deep, I felt used and jaded like never before in my life, all because I obsessively built a fan site to a scifi TV show). About two months into it I finally got the hang of the happy hello yap, but it took another two months to keep their names straight, along with where they live in the world, if they have kids and pets, and the sorts of things they find interesting. We’re talking a little group of 6 people with a few extended contacts. Yes, I suck that badly at being friends. I’m better at telling identical white chickens apart than I am remembering this person has a cat and that person lives up north. But after what happened in 2007, I decided this was my chance to try again, and if it doesn’t work out this time that’s it, I’m done trying to have friends.

I noticed over several more weeks as I adapted to more and more bits of random personal information tweeting at me in sudden flurries of howdies that our common theme seemed to be particular TV shows. Call me slow, but it finally dawned on me that every one of us had a thing for the Syfy channel, or what fills in for that in some other countries, like the Space channel. I myself followed Sliders from NBC to Syfy in the late 90’s, then followed Stargate SG-1 and Lexx from Showtime back to Syfy, and I’ve hung in through schedule changes ever since. No one else in my family outside my marriage cares for scifi, and coming from the extremely religious family history that I did, that made me a black sheep. My dad was very concerned that I watched TV shows challenging my faith, actually chock full of false gods like Q, Ra, and Thor. If anything, I found my faith in humanity and pursuing right over wrong strengthened by shows like Star Wars and Star Trek more than sitting in church ever did. Unfortunately, growing up aspie and more intensely isolated than most kids (my dad is a Mennonite), and then rarely running into adults who watched these things, I had no one to talk to for decades. I have quietly cherished memories of the original Lost in Space series from my childhood like some people might cherish memories of family holidays. I see now how remarkably sad I was that I would never be able to talk to my parents like Will and Penny could talk to their parents. I guess it was kind of like The Brady Bunch, except with spaceships, aliens, a robot, and a mad scientist. Interestingly, I ‘got’ the social stuff just fine when it was embedded into scifi stuff, but as an aspie I can’t stand shows focusing only on relationships. The clincher for me is the problem solving that the group does together for the sake of survival, or for science. Love stories and parenting sitcoms and crime shows bore me silly.

So yeah, after decades of never being consistently socialized with or validated by people who were supposed to love me, I found it confusing and then amusing and then very comforting that a gang of scifi watchers wanted to say hi to me nearly every day for going on nine months now.

One of the people in my little gang was not only a content writer for a TV show and movie review global website family but is also part of another twitter gang called the SnarkAlecs, who like to live tweet what they’re watching on TV, mostly based around Syfy original movies but also including new shows on Syfy and other networks. The SnarkAlecsboss and his own little gang put together a weekly podcast show for radio talking about the TV shows they watch, and create their own Snarktistics such as ratings for movie of the week, coming in mostly from live tweet watch parties. What’s impressive is that the SnarkAlecs pull in some cool guests from Syfy movies and other podcast and music projects, and now they are branching into spinoffs called Dylan Knows and Snarkaholics. Like me, they create because they love this stuff and pay out of pocket to do it, like I do with my blogs, so I think it’s safe to say I’ve found some kindred spirits. I’ve started a SnarkAlecs pinterest board if you’re interested in seeing these guys, and the pins link to the shows for easy access. (I’m a groupie.)

I went through some pretty rough stuff at the end of summer, not least of which was my blog host of nine years suddenly pulling up roots to move to new servers for a ‘relaunch’ and building an all new blog hosting site with all the old archives. You’ve never been through internet hell like your blog host ripping your blogs up right before a book launch you had planned for an entire year based heavily on two of your blogs and it taking not just weeks but months to get everything back into a readable format with navigation. Which I’m still waiting on. If I had been free floating on my own through all that and had never been picked up by my twitter gang and then sucked joyfully into the SnarkAlecs, I think I would have just folded up shop and said forget it. The depression has been incredible. I watched people freaking out earlier this week because Facebook was glitchy for a few hours, imagine your host site being mangled for a couple of MONTHS and your content being shredded. Yeah, *that*. Suddenly everything I’d been linking and building a launch platform over was just gone *poof* and then when it came back it looked like a third grader made it and the navigation was still *poof*, and over the last 7 weeks is finally coming back enough to be able to read a little, but now it’s not making much sense because my wholeness was obliterated. You can’t survive like that on the internet any more. Everything is real time dependent if you are tying together your social media. For great chunks of it to disappear is devastating.

The joke is actually on me, I originally made all my stuff go *poof* a few years ago and then decided to resurrect it, so the irony is not lost on me at all. I did the unthinkable | GrandFortuna’s League of 20,000 Planets

A lot of flak goes to people who can’t stop texting through dinner dates or who are so addicted to facebook that they go into depressions when their computers go down, and since I had spent several years using social media to distract myself from my own depressions through building fan sites and blogging, I decided to shut it all down and take a break. I had no public interaction whatsoever for about a year. It was glorious. I figured out who I really am and what I really want are what I’ve been all along- being a public figure using social media to create things I enjoy as a way to relax and escape my own doldrums. But this time I have a plan and goals and a timetable, and it’s way more fun than it was the first time around. As before, I wasn’t on the internet to find friends, but to amuse myself and others as a distraction from whatever miseries our lives pile on us, because that’s what fandoms are all about- escapism. Except this time the key is to be a real person without a mask. That’s a scary thing in fandoms. I’ve been stalked a few times to the point of someone bringing a gun into my house (pre-Lexx), so this decision wasn’t made lightly. If I’m going to interact with fans, I’m going to be a real person, not an avatar, not a mysterious webmaster, not one icon for this activity and another icon for that. My whole entire real self is here now, my personas gathered into purpose, and you know what? It’s a relief! I’m so tired of playing the fan behind the mask game. If haters want a piece of me, I’m right here, and I don’t care any more.

I made that decision about 15 months ago. I made a new twitter account and slowly started linking my various medias. My plan’s timetable had 3-month, 6-month, and 12-month projections, like so much traffic here or there by a certain date. I studied other successful media personalities and worked hard at creating new content to support a more professional writing career.

What I didn’t expect was friends. I wasn’t back to make friends. My history with friendship is dismal. I now understand that it’s my fault, because my glaring social deficit sooner or later tries people’s souls like chaff in the fire. Once I realized this, sadly not soon enough for the 2007 debacle, I worked on communication problems with a psychologist for several years and practiced on my poor family, with some pretty good results. Not all our problems are solved, but I no longer burn bridges over communication problems. I also practice the social niceties dance every day so that my new skills remain fresh and rooted in positive habit. I still have the same old personal feelings about it all, but now I choose which carries more weight- the necessity of airing my trivial grievances versus the good feeling I get that some people actually enjoy seeing me enter a room.

I enjoy being a loner, but I really like the feeling that I’m part of the world, too. This is important.

I’m part of the SyFySnarkAlecs twitter list now. I’ve got a built in group of friends who like the same TV shows I like, and I can check that list any time and see what everyone’s up to. The very best part of that list, for me, is watching parents proactively and very positively raise their kids with full blown scifi in their houses, something I never had and only dreamed of. It’s real, and I get to see it. *feels*

Before I got on twitter I never group watched a scifi show (movie theaters don’t count). How many of us have looked on longingly during Friends and Seinfeld and The Big Bang Theory wishing we had a solid group of people to come back to every little bit? I discovered live hashtag tweeting after I got my first iphone last Thanksgiving (black Friday sale!) and had an awesome time watching the Superbowl blackout happen live, and watching the Triple Crown races with other fans on twitter in real time. That’s the thing- real time. You can hang out with people from all over the world watching the same live events and seeing what they’re saying. I discovered the joyful camaraderie of watching witty people joking together and found myself literally laughing out loud just checking my phone, a sort of fun I haven’t felt in a long time.

If you like live hashtag tweeting, you might see me (Pinky) jumping in once in awhile. You can follow me at PinkyGuerrero on Twitter.

edit 10-30-13 Click this thumbnail to see comments left on the contact form, which comes to me privately and doesn’t display for the public.

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winning the suck contest

This week Sept 9-15, 2013 is National Chronic Illness Awareness Week. Actually, I think it’s worldwide. And I think it’s being called Invisible Illness Awareness Week now –> http://invisibleillnessweek.com/

I have a special blog called spaz at http://jankita.blogspot.com/ for my ‘drag’ posts. I don’t write a whole lot of those for the public, but when I do, I make sure they don’t suck to read.

pill phobia at its finest –> http://jankita.blogspot.com/2011/03/pill-phobia-at-its-finest.html

blinking in the light –> http://jankita.blogspot.com/2012/07/blinking-in-light.html

walking in the air –> http://jankita.blogspot.com/2012/08/walking-in-air.html

I like it dark –> http://jankita.blogspot.com/2012/12/i-like-it-dark.html

I’m blue –> http://jankita.blogspot.com/2012/12/im-blue.html

aspie overload –> http://jankita.blogspot.com/2013/09/aspie-overload.html

I know it’s hard. Believe me, I KNOW.

There are two ways to look at life- selfish vs. selfless. The biggest challenge I ever had was figuring out how to cut through all the overwhelming pain, fatigue, and brain melts to be kind to other people. It’s so easy to fall into the dark pit where you think because it all sucks for you that the rest of the world owes you and has to excuse you. Um, no they don’t. No one owes you anything, and there is no excuse for treating other people badly, no matter how crap your own life is. I don’t care how unfair life is, if all you can do on this planet is whine and moan and treat other people badly, you suck.

I had to face this. I had to own the fact that I suck. I had to accept that life is unfair. You cannot truly go on until you take these things into yourself and digest them down into something you can turn inside out into being someone other people actually want to be around. (That sentence was a handful.) No one wants to be around you when you suck. And no matter who you are, life will always feel unfair. You don’t get context until you go through stuff yourself, and any time something doesn’t go the way you want it to, it sucks. Simple formula.

There is no contest. I’m not out to win My Life Sux Worse So You Have To Be Nice To Me More Than I Have To Be Nice To You. But some people ante up like it’s a contest. We each have a headache, mine sux more than yours, ok but mine is on top of this bad day I’m having, and we go on and on building up these monuments to our bad days. You know what? There is nothing more depressing than trying to win the worst day contest. Just everything sux, let’s move on to another subject, ok?

I’ve had 30 years of life altering suck. But I noticed some people have way worse suck than I have. I may live with pain levels that would have other people thinking suicide, but I’ve never been in a fire. I’ve never lost my own child. I’ve not yet had cancer. Yeah I’ve gone through stuff, but there is no comparison between me and someone who has been in a fire and had reconstructive surgeries and still all scarred up. They have their own suck, I have mine. Same with any other pain, grief, and despair. Sooner or later, I don’t care who you are, your life will suck in ways that you never dreamed would ever happen to you. The sucky stuff opens our eyes and hearts and challenges our souls.

I wrote a sorta lengthy post on my bluejacky blog a few years ago called “Synchronicity, Suicide, and the Eyes” –> http://bluejacky.xanga.com/2008/07/23/synchronicity-suicide-and-the-eyes/ There comes a point where we ask ourselves if being here on this planet is more about us being worth the air we breathe. It’s important that we get past that yawning black cavern of self pity and see the light around us. Even with full blown suck, I’m so glad I got the chance to be here.

Chronic Illness or Invisible Illness Awareness Week, whatever you want to call it, I’m glad another group is ganging up on the public because there really does need to be more thought out there about stuff all around us that we might shrug off or take for granted. For instance, I have difficulty pulling or pushing doors open in public buildings, so I need the little handicap button thingy. One year I had a lot of difficulty moving quickly and got smashed in a door in a big beautiful bank because the button was so far away from the door that even an able bodied person without pain would have to walk quickly. It hurt real bad and I cried. It was mortifying and embarrassing and brought all the wrong kinds of attention. There is no dignity in being bruised up by an automatic door on a day you can barely keep it together in the first place to run your errands. So yes, I think Awareness Week is fab and helpful and whatever.

But I’m just saying that we’ll get more awareness if we aren’t hateful and crabby and snotty about it. It’s important to remember that we are ALL human, and that we ALL need to be kind and good at communicating. Maybe it’s not fair that some of us have to do it through a fuzzy static of crap, but other people will listen better if we can be cool about it.

It’s very hard sometimes to be nice when everything sux and it’s overwhelming your brain. I know other people can find me a little shocking on bad days. So my contribution to Invisible Illness Awareness Week is to beg the public to please not take me personally, please blow my crabbiness off when the suckiness is taking me down, please forgive me for seeming like a jerk when I react to something minor, please understand that underneath my reaction is my horrified recoil when I look at myself and then the overwhelming depression that I’m ugly when I suck. I want very much to be wonderful and sweet and for you to like me, but some days that feels almost impossible. So please love me anyway, even when I suck.