I’m feeling very blah.  Not bad, but not great either.  I hate life and the act of being alive, but am not suicidal.  I think it’s partly my fatigue.  And my frustration over the doctor’s refusal to do the proper tests on my thyroid.  I won’t go into details about which thyroid hormones are which, so I don’t bore those of you who don’t have hypothyroidism.  Let’s just summarize by saying that out of three tests the doctor could be running, he is only going to run one.  He claims that my insurance will only pay for the one, when I know that is not true.

I have also been told that I might have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. If the blood rests that my doctor is actually running come back as normal, he’s pretty much determined that this is something I have.  I am freaking out.  I am sick and tired of being sick and tired!

Busy…having a breakdown?

I feel kinda weird.  It’s hard to describe.  I’ve been doing pretty good lately; feeling pretty good.  Yet I feel keyed up and on edge. Maybe it’s the extra cup of coffee I’ve been having with lunch, or maybe it’s the type of over-stimulation that happens to anybody with Asperger’s when their routine changes.

I’ve been volunteering at the food pantry once a month for the past three months now.  Also, I’ve been helping out at the Salvation Army on Mondays and Tuesdays, helping to pack sack lunches for the school kids that normally get free or reduced lunches in school during the school year. I’ve been spending more time with friends, both old and new.  It’s  a lot for me.

So while nothing bad has been happening, STUFF has.  I’m used to a whole lot of nothing going on in my life.  It is going to take some getting used to, but it will be worth it to have a purpose and a reason for getting out of bed in the morning.  It feels good to be useful and needed by society again.







They call me a weirdo

but I’m not the only one.

So called Autistic me cares

more than I think the Normal people do.

I care so much it hurts

that they don’t care in return.


People confuse me

they say “how do you do?”

They don’t want my answer

but bombard me with theirs

forcing it upon me

like an audible rape


I won’t be rude

I’ll listen to what they have to say

Then I’ll run upstairs and hide

lie on my couch and cry

stuffing myself with food

so there’s no more room for hurt

Maybe I don’t care after all

Status of my neighbor’s gall bladder

I’m sure you don’t care how my neighbor’s gall bladder is faring.  You don’t know her after all.  I don’t know her very well myself.  Yet, after seeing her in the lobby and asking her the standard “How are you doing?” greeting, I was treated to a briefing on her last doctor’s appointment, and the fact that said gall bladder needed removing.  Arrggghhhh!!!  I’ve got to start charging by the hour, no, by the minute.  I’d make a fortune just by walking downstairs to check the mail!


Oh…I’m ready to go

Away from this place

This mad human race

I’m ready…


Life…it’s not what it seems

No use having dreams

Of a time or a place

Where I can escape

It’s too late


I am living dead

Dizzy thoughts in my head

Of what could have been


If I…if I had been happy

Just a little bit happy

Now and then

Here and there

Amongst the despair

I sit here writing

These words full of angst

Like some love sick

Teenage emo

Even though I’m full grown

Dreaming of a world never known

Called Life





Society seems to have made it clear that it has no place for me, at least in the work world.  This is the important part, the part that seems to determine a person’s value and worth.  I’m on disability, Supplemental Security Income under the Social Security program, since I’m unwell enough to work outside the home full time.  I would love to be able to work part time.  To do so, to transition from disability to employment, I have to go through an agency called the Bureau of Vocational Rehabilitation.  I’ve tried to get help from them before.  They don’t consider me to be the worst of the disabled, since I’m of above average intelligence.  This actually works against me, since it’s assumed that if my intelligence is not the problem, and my body functions normally (walking, talking, seeing, hearing etc,) that I should not be having the trouble that I’m having.  As if I’m somehow lazy.  At least this is the impression that I get from them, and my own family at times.

I’ve been through the Bureau’s program twice, the first time resulting in a job that I did well at, but quit after five months, after being unable to work through a dispute with my boss.  The second time, I only got so far as a supervised position with a job counselor on site, where they were able to conclude that I should not try to do any further work, since I was “unable to handle stress very well” (their words.)  Well I know I can’t handle stress very well, that’s the point!  That’s why I came to them in the first place.

I was good at school, and yet it took me 10 years to get a 4 year college degree.  I had trouble navigating the social aspect of things- attending class, living in the dorms, working with my professors.  That’s the sort of thing that continues to elude me today.  I think that I could perform the basic work requirements of many different jobs, but I don’t get along very well socially, most of the time.  Some of the time I do well enough that those working to help me are unable to see where my social deficits are.  I think that one of my problems is in dealing with conflict-if I’m having trouble with my work duties, I seem to be unable to sort it out with supervisors.  If I encounter a difficult co-worker, it sends me into a panic.  These sorts of things start my heart beating wildly, turn my adrenaline switch on, and open the floodgates of my cortisol levels.

And that’s why I’m sitting here writing, since I don’t seem to be able to do anything else for the moment.  I have been seeing my case manager, a psychiatric social worker, for the past two years, with the goal being that she would help me look for a job.  Either that, or connect me with services designed to help the disabled get back to work.  However, our communication has broken down to the point where even my therapist thinks that I should ask for a new caseworker.  I am in the position now of having to start fresh, navigating employment services on my own.  I’m completely terrified.

Social rules

Apparently, it’s o.k. for someone to show up at the front door of a stranger and tell them how depressed and lonely they are.  That’s what one of my neighbors did to me last week.  I’m depressed and lonely myself, but I’m not about to lead with that statement when trying to make a new friend. I guess that tactic worked for my neighbor though, because I’ve seen him leaving the apartments of several other neighbors, having apparently been invited in to visit.  So I guess he’s not lonely anymore.

I’m left feeling both relieved and confused.  Relieved, because I don’t have to take on the problems of someone I barely know, when I’m still trying to cope with my own.  I’m confused, however, as to why my neighbor’s approaching others in such a needy manner worked for him.  Why does he now appear to have a more active social life than myself?  Do other people enjoy listening to someone they barely known moan about how much their life sucks, when that person should be telling a professional?

And yes, I realize how ironic that sounds, since that is exactly what I’m doing with this blog.  I see a therapist weekly though, and she actually recommended that I start blogging, agreeing with me that it was fine to do so anonymously, so that possible future employers don’t find out how screwed up I am from searching my name online.