Aspie?

Apologies.  The following post is really self-centered.  But I’m really excited!

Looks like I’m likely an Aspie.  A chart!  That follows the colour spectrum!

Since ‘coming out’ as potentially Aspie, I’ve been told that it runs in my family, that I have a few relatives with AS and a lot more with the same symptoms.
This probably helps explains why I took Christianity so seriously while other people I grew up with didn’t seem as affected.

I don’t have a phobia of malls, I am just hypersensitive to stimuli.

I’m not a scaredy cat, I just react intensely to unexpected touch or sound.

I’m not a social idiot, I just read signals differently and react to the energy people give off instead of the words they say.  Someone will smile and say they are fine but I feel this intense need to give them a hug or run away and cry so I freeze because I can’t react to them as if they are fine.  I take people literally and often don’t associate the discrepancy between what I’m hearing and what I’m feeling to them – why would they lie?- and blame myself for the confusion I feel.  I come off as awkward and stilted because I’m frustrated that socializing seems to be a game and I don’t know the rules.  Good thing I didn’t grow up in a sarcastic family

I’m not an immature rebel.  I just don’t see the point in following rules or procedures that don’t make sense and I see other ways of getting things done.

I will probably always fixate on a few topics and be more fascinated by them than the general population.  It doesn’t mean my brain is like a scratched CD, looping and looping.  Its ok.  People aren’t forced to read all the articles on rape culture I post to FB.

I’m not lazy because I wear comfortable clothes, I’m just sensitive to touch and uncomfortable clothing drives me crazy.

I will never find the magical purse or high heeled shoes that will make me feel like a powerful woman.  Never.  So I can stop feeling obliged to pretend to look for them.  I will always prefer to go barefoot than wear ridiculous shoes and I will keep losing bags that aren’t strapped onto my body, bike or stroller.   My brain just doesn’t appreciate impractical and painful status items.

I’m smart but I can stop feeling like I’ve failed because I haven’t yet found the way to use my intellect and passions for paid work.

I’m not a bad mother because when I’m really focusing on something I don’t even notice the child beside me screaming that she has to go pee.

All those OCD tendencies I have that I used to feel so guilty about really are about self-soothing, not some masochistic tendency to destroy myself.

I likely don’t have a mental illness.  I’m not broken but I do have a more active prefrontal cortex than many people.

Just like when I accepted that Christianity was not what I thought it was, the world seems bigger and brighter.  I feel more free, and yes- like dancing!

 

Kissing Games

This weekend we had unusually warm weather, so we took off for the mountains.

We went with one of Lil’T's friends from school, Lil’ Ninja, and his mom.  Lil’T and her Ninja friend had a great time building forts in the trees and racing on our hikes.  They searched for fairies and Harry Potter wands and hunted for beaver.  C-minor was right behind them.

The last night, Lil’Ninja was overcome.  He grabbed Lil’T, pinning her arms, and began smooching her on the face.  (Ick, open wet lips…)  She froze and then laughed nervously.  We split them up immediately and asked Lil’Ninja if he had asked for permission to kiss her.  He got mad and began to pout.  ”No, I didn’t ask.  I just wanted to. “

As his mom talked to him, we talked to Lil’T about how its always OK to say no, even if you have a crush on someone.  Even if you said they could kiss you, or hug you, if you feel uncomfortable you need to tell them to stop.

Then we realized that these kids had mostly seen their parents kissing.  We’ve had a lot of practice and can read each other’s body language pretty well.  The kids don’t see this silent consent built on years of communicating in private.  It makes sense that they just copy what they see in front of them.

We’ve started asking for permission to kiss when in front of the kids.  And more importantly, we practice saying no.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Sure!  Kiss my shoulder, please.”

“Oh, I’m uncomfortable kissing your shoulder.  Can I kiss your nose?”

Last photo taken from http://www.two-views.com/article_kissing.html

I don’t care so much if she kisses someone now, although I had my first kiss when I was a decade and a half older than she is, but I do care that she is respected and has the courage to stand up for herself.  I think this will be harder (but more fun) to teach than “wait”.

The Talk

Lil’T asked me what sex was.

First she asked what the difference was between sexy and pretty.  From the way the neighbour girl used the word, Lil’T thought they were the same thing.

Caught off guard, I said that they both mean you feel attractive but pretty was how you want to look for your mom and sexy was how you want to look for the person you have a crush on.   She paused.  My self-talk then asked if the focus on how you look vs how you feel was detrimental, especially if you are being an object for someone else to look at, but this thought was interrupted.

LilT then asked what sex was.

The book with pictures I got when pregnant with C-minor was hiding.  My prepared talks vanished with the ingrained fears that I’d burden her with (bad?) knowledge.   I considered pulling up a youtube video of dogs mating.

“Sex is when two adults touch each other’s bodies so they feel good.  Usually it involves the genitals.  That is a word for vulva or penis.”

I waited for more questions.  I had decided I would answer her questions and let her decide when she wanted to learn.  No more questions came.  She was off building a zoo for the toy animals.

Explaining sex is a lot more complicated than I thought.  It isn’t just putting a penis in a vagina.  That’s easy.  I realized I don’t actually have a clear definition of sex.   How do you explain the difference between a mother cuddling her child or two friends giving each other shoulder rubs – which are also two people touching each other because it feels good- and sex?  If two kids are playing doctor and it feels good, is that sex?  Was saying that adults do it potentially harmful?

I’m sure the talk will be continued.

The Moral is

Now its time for what I’ve learned today!

Modern wheat contains opioids!  Can this explain why fresh bread is so addictive?  Of course, exercise can release endogenous opioids and substances like alcohol also interact with our opioid receptors so this is not necessarily ‘bad’.  At least one study has found that those who eat wheat do consume more calories a day than those who don’t.

For more information see: http://lewrockwell.com/sisson/sisson173.html and http://www.wheatbellyblog.com/2012/04/wheat-is-an-opiate/

 

In other news, I’ve learned that gossip is not necessarily bad.

It can be used for good things.   A friend was recently fired unfairly and in a humiliating way.  The gossip chain has ensured that many of her friends know she is in pain and why without her having to freshly explain to everyone herself.  As a result, people have been calling and sending her encouraging notes at a time when she needs support.

I’ve learned I need to talk about other people and how they relate to me to help navigate my relationships with them.    However, I have to be careful that my talking does not affect the relationship between the people I am talking to and the people I am talking about.

Talking about extended family issues with people who do not interact with any of them is one way.   The downside of this is that those people only hear my side of the story and may not have valuable insights into the situation as a whole.

Or, I can vent frustrations to people who will listen, point out what I can do or stop doing, and then forget everything I’ve said.  I have found talking to my husband about situations with his siblings does not seem to affect his relationship with them.  That may be because he isn’t fully listening or it may be because he is aware of all of our biases and weaknesses.  This does seem like a large burden to put on the listener.

Nothing is perfect, but my desire to never talk to or about people ever again isn’t the best idea.  I guess I’ll just have to learn how.

 

 

Opposites Detract

The other day we learned about things that are similar and things that are opposite.

It started when we went to the dentist, travelling south. Lil’T asked if we were going to my work which is northwest. I informed her we were going in the opposite direction. She didn’t understand.
I listed as many opposites as I could think of (hot/cold, light/dark, etc) until she got it.
We talked about being similar which meant that some things are different but a lot of things are the same.

Then she asked for a story.

I told her about Rosa Parks.

Then we talked about how some of the light skinned people used to think the darker skinned people were opposites instead of similar. Since the light skinned people loved their children, they would assume someone opposite would hate their children. If someone was nice, an opposite person would be mean. Because many thought of people with different hair or skin as opposite instead of similar, they were afraid of them and made rules to keep them apart.

Rosa and many others thought this was silly so they made a stand. They were tired of being treated as the opposite of fully human. Lil’T loves that part. Since we had watched a Disney movie about Ruby Bridges, a 5 year old black girl who went to a white school, she knew all about racial segregation.

(We started watching the movie before I realized what it was about. Lil’T loved it because in the end the mean kids became Ruby’s friends. I almost turned it off when the movie showed angry people holding black dolls in coffins as little Ruby walked into the school.

Lil’T, however, thought they were just giving Ruby presents in boxes.)

“And now we know better! Black people can go to school with everyone or sit or eat wherever they want! We’re not opposites!” Lil’T was so excited, and I immediately felt embarrassed and conspicuously white.
I reminded her the rules had changed a long time ago, but attitudes change more slowly. Maybe I was reminding myself.

Then we talked about opposites again. I said some words and Lil’T had to tell me if they were opposite or similar. She was pretty quick until we got to dog and cat.

She paused. “Four legs, furry, good pets, like to be scratched behind the ears…. similar!” She pronounced.

“What about boys and girls?” I asked.

“Similar!” she said with no hesitation.

I’m glad that she can find more in common than to separate.

I have to remind myself of this when dealing with certain people. Our worldviews may be opposite in many ways, but we still have much in common.

We may have different definitions of love, but we all want it.

We aren’t completely the same, but we aren’t opposites.

The cost of no free will

If you don’t believe in free will, then you are more likely to lie.

Interesting.

People who are determinists really have less motivation to act morally than those who believe in free will, since they can’t do much anyways.  They are less likely to be emotionally healthy.

I just listened to a podcast interviewing Marcel Brass, a neuroscience researcher.  http://commonsenseatheism.com/?p=12153

Perhaps all of our discussions about predestination, determinism, and free will are a waste of time.  We may never be able to prove things either way, but we can know the effects of different beliefs.

I have a lot more incentive to act morally now that I know I can’t just ask for forgiveness and the magic God will make everything better.  I took a lot of comfort in the instant forgiveness and power of a being who could work all things out for those that loved him.

However, knowing that I have responsibility and agency in my choices helps me a lot more.

Prepared for what?

I don’t miss feeling like everything I do is preparation.

In my form of Christianity, there was almost nothing in ‘this’ life that wasn’t some form of preparation, at least for the afterlife.

As a young girl, I took care of my little brothers.  That is what I got for being the oldest, but I saw it as some divine plan.  Later I worked for a Children and Youth program.  Instead of 3 kids plus assorted neighbours and imaginary friends, I was in charge of groups of four to twenty kids with various needs.

That of course, was mere preparation for whatever I would do when I left university.

I took a hiatus and went to India.  There I was in charge of teaching different classrooms.  I had to watch all of the ~120 kids  by myself whenever I took my class out for phys-ed.

(The school didn’t have real windows or even walls so when the other teachers saw me outside they sent out their classes to join me.  Then when we had a school inspector all of the teachers actually showed up and we had too many teachers.  One of the male teachers who had never lead a gym class was designated ‘gym teacher’.)

Every evening, I lead an hour of singing, stories, and praying.  Usually I had a partner, but sometimes it was just me.  It was on one of these occasions when I began to panic.

If watching over 100 kids was just preparation for ‘greater’ things, what was coming next!

I was really not capable of managing such large numbers of small children for  long periods of time, how on earth could I do more?  The children and teens in the youth program all had a dis-Ability of some sort.  Was that God’s way of preparing me to raise my own child with dis-Abilities?

I’m sure most Christians don’t view everything in that way, but I had been encouraged to by well-meaning “think about what God has in store for you next” or “I wonder how God will use this in your life” comments as well as my own desperation to find eternal significance in the events I happened upon.

I did not admit to myself that I was responsible for what I chose to do.  I waited for opportunities to come or leave and then gave God the credit.  Since I hadn’t chosen what I did, that meant God chose it.  If God did, then there was some cosmic reason.  And I was left wondering what God would want me to do next.

What a relief to separate my experiences from the view that they were merely practice for what was next.

I no longer fear that God is going to force (aka bless) me with the responsibility of taking care of hundreds of children with various needs and abilities.

I can enjoy what I do for its own sake.

 

Guest Post: lover’s faith journey

My husband wrote the following to his parents.  I share it with permission.

______________________________________________________

God has in no way “let me down”. I have not “turned my back on God”. I
am not hurt by God or someone in the church. These are common
presumptions many people have when someone transitions away from the
evangelical church. And they are not true.

The reality is, it is because of the strength of my continued belief
in God, the values I have been taught, and detailed study of the
Bible, that I have made transitions away from evangelicalism. It is my
continued belief in a kind, loving, caring, truth-telling God of
wonder that I must conclude the Bible is not, as a whole, an accurate
representation of the God I have always believed in. And many
teachings in the church I cannot accept as promoted by the God I
believe in, for they contradict what I believe God stands for. My
belief in God has not changed. I am only questioning the claimed
authority some feel they have to promote their own ideas on behalf of
God. Ideas that contradict the nature of the God I believe in. Ideas
that contradict what the Bible actually says. The God I always have,
and still, believe in. Things I feel the God I believe in would not
approve of.

I know you feel I have been deceived, but the complete opposite is
true. I have discovered that I have been deceived. Not about
everything I’ve been taught, just some things. I have discovered that
the Bible is being abused and misused. You point out that no church,
no church authority, is perfect. Of course. I’ll add the Bible to this
list. It is not perfect. How can the Bible, written by imperfect
humans, be perfect and without error? To think otherwise requires a
strong level of cognitive dissonance. How can any document written by
humans be perfect and without error?

No church, no church authority, is perfect.  But there is a difference
between failing to live up to promoted ideals and promoting harmful or
false ideals, under the guise of them being “good”. My standards of
“goodness” have not changed. I now question the goodness of some
ideals some churches are promoting. That some parts of the Bible
promote. In finding release from these harmful ideals, I have found a
much stronger sense of purpose, love, joy, peace, fulfillment,
kindness and even spiritual connection with God and the world around
me.

I think I have already stated which ideals I have found to bring the
opposite effects to my life. Ideals which have at times lead to
unhealthy and unnecessary guilt, judgement, prejudice, cognitive
dissonance, hatred (of myself and others), anger, sadness, depression
and bitterness. I don’t have a place for teachings that lead to
harmful behaviour or thoughts. I am not so much hurt by people who
teach these things, but from the ideals themselves. I am acknowledging
that in and of themselves, some of these ideals, when followed, cause
hurt. After struggling through this transition for years and the
negative impacts on my life, how could I wish the same on my children?

If it helps, I’ll try to nail down the root issue of some of these
harmful ideals from my perspective. Essentially to me it boils down to
churches using the Bible, out of context and in misleading ways, to
promote deep seated cultural prejudices, more or less. I understand
why this practice persists and why it is so vehemently defended. It is
a human tendency we all have. I am trying my best to work against this
human tendency.

A cultural prejudice that attempts to create narrow definitions and
requirements for what it means to be human. A narrowness that attempts
to limit God and manipulate the Bible and people. The God I believe
in, have always believed in, is bigger and better than this narrowness
and manipulation.

Can I prove God exists? No. Can someone prove God does not exist? No.
I choose to continue my belief in God. But I respect those who chose
not to believe in something I can’t prove, but still hold to the same
values I do. Most humans do hold the same values. In the end, this is
what matters to me. Not so much what someone thinks or doesn’t think
about God.

The sad thing is, there is great confusion as to how to apply these
values due to culture prejudices that have developed over time and for
various reasons. Am I any less confused? I feel that I am making
progress in that direction. Cognitive dissonance is clearly a form of
confusion, much of which I now find freedom from and I feel I can
illustrate to those willing to listen.

Birthday

I had a great birthday.

While at work, 4 of my co-workers dropped by (or were there already) with presents.  I’ve always had a hard time with accepting presents, but it is getting more fun!  I guess practice makes perfect?

I was treated to a delicious homemade meal and had dark chocolate and cheescake for dessert.  (Which I took home and shared with my girls.  Chocolate is twice as fun with a small child who bursts into song at first sight.)

After work, I had a nap and then we went out for supper.  (A rare occurrence.)  We went to a small Indian restaurant so I had to wear a sari.  Hardly anyone was there, so lil’T and I danced in the centre while C-minor took off to talk to the decorations.

I love getting older, birthdays just get better and better!

What’s in a name?

We have come back from a lovely holiday with my family!

I scanned a Reader’s Digest lying around and found an article about annoying phrases.  It encouraged people not to say things like “I was just kidding” to mask a nasty comment.  The last paragraph gave advice on how to talk to people about issues.

It suggested that a conversation about ‘why you want them to take out the trash sometimes’ is more productive than ‘why the other person is a jerk’.

At first I laughed.  Who throws hate on someone all the time for imagined character deficiencies when all they want is for them to pay attention to a detail?

I do.

Mostly to myself.  I spent much of the previous week angry and aggravated at myself.  Instead of focusing on the behaviour that caused stress, such as miscommunication, I just called myself names.

Lazy.  Selfish.  Disorganized.  Annoying.  Incompetent.

I wasn’t even sure why I felt so insufficient.  So I took the article’s advice and tried to remember the exact events that triggered the name-calling.

Sure enough, a misunderstanding about text labelling was no longer sign of obvious depravity.  Just a reminder that I need to be more clear about what I am talking about.

I had thought I had lost my wallet.  Upon arriving home, I realized that a small child had taken it from my bag and hidden it in her room.  No longer was my sin gross negligence, but simply not taking the time to double check that everything in the bag to go to the car actually made it to the car.

By focusing the event, I could make a plan to prevent it from happening again.  Before, it seemed inevitable that I would always lose my wallet.  Now I am more hopeful.