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Persephone, Asha, Hecate

May 2016




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Oct. 26th, 2037

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

New user name, new self

Hello from the LiveJournal user formerly known as BrightRoseFox.
Due to a complex thingy involving problems with emails and such, I have changed my LiveJournal name, my Yahoo name, and my Facebook name.
Everything is now BrightLotusMoon.
If you know me well enough, you know why I am now BrightLotusMoon.
So, yeah. Just FYI.

Dear Lovelies:
Not only am I feeling so much better, I truly believe I am worth everything that people say I am. I have been getting messages, emails, phone calls, and comments from friends who have told me what I mean to them. I have been amazed and heartened and lifted and joyous.
I may be a moonlight witch, but I cannot access the magic of the moon without accessing the magic of the sun. And the moon is always there, her power extreme eternally. And the sun is always there, his power intense forever.
I feel bright and powerful and in full bloom, like a great lotus blossom beneath the full moon.

Jun. 8th, 2036

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

I'm not you. You're not me. But we're people. Yay us.

So. Multiple friends have suggested I write something like this, because no matter how often I say it, I still get invalidated, scolded, told I shouldn't be doing it because it upsets people. And of course, it would be talking about my life, my disabilities, my personal health, in public forums.

To paraprhase a friend: "...taking someone's lived experiences as they apply to their particular disability and how it expresses itself, and saying that they can't talk about that because it will make other people feel bad, is not okay and it invalidates them to varying degrees. Different disabilities affect different people in different ways."

In other words, sometimes comparing things is bad. We are human. Humans all have problems. Each human has their own set of problems. Some humans want to talk about their personal problems in ways that other humans find annoying, upsetting, unsettling - but other humans find those ways comforting, eye-opening, powerful.

I don't know how else to say it, so I'll be blunt, and this time I am not going to pull any punches:
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Jun. 14th, 2035

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

My brain to your brain. To the universe.

...hush now; let me speak...
And sometimes there are days when all you can feel is that pain-filled urge to fly and fall, and all you can think is "If only I could make the world fly and fall with my brain; if only I could win my own game, always."
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May. 26th, 2016

Persephone, Asha, Hecate


Stuff that breaks my heart.


They turned Captain America into an agent of a Nazi regime.

Let us let that sink in for a moment.

Steve Rogers. Is. Nazi.

*hysterical laughter*

This is one of the most Nope things to happen in fiction. They've taken a living history and twisted it with the blood of my Jewish family, of my fellow cripples... and they claimed it's not that bad, it's just a story. I'm not even going to finish that with a cliche, because I might Godwin my own blog.

If you've been on Facebook you've seen my reactions. But you've also seen how people are rising up.

As Cap himself said, NO. YOU MOVE.

Apr. 29th, 2016

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

(no subject)

1 - Aww, look, it's Depression O'clock. No wonder I went to bed early with mild writer's block.

2- New thing about me that is an autistic trait:
Any time the Disturbed version of "Sound Of Silence" plays, I will immediately, automatically stop what I am doing, shut my eyes, and start swaying and rocking side to side. I literally, neurophysiologically cannot help it. It is a thing I absolutely have to do. It mildly worries me, because what if I am somewhere where it is not a good idea to start rocking and swaying to a song like it's almost a seizure, and hopefully I can get somewhere private. Also, if you interrupt me or start singing, I might try to harm you. My brain automatically goes MY THING GO AWAY.

Note: I've found that there are ways for me to stay alert and aware so I don't freak people out, but it is unbelievably difficult and takes up a lot of processing power. Sometimes if I play the song myself I can control it, but the swaying will happen. If you dare make fun of me for this I will harm you. If you think this is a silly thing that everybody does I will harm you. If you deliberately play the song just to watch this reaction and laugh I will make other people harm you.

3 -I'mma just gonna keep sharing these, because she is awesome and also my editor.

What's that? Get back to work? Yes, editor. Thank you editor.

Fuck it, I'm probably going to wind up doing something like this.

Autistic woman sorts laundry!
Autistic woman watches comedic movie, doesn't laugh.
Autistic woman takes a shower, shaves legs.

Apr. 11th, 2016

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

At 4K in 24 hours, my fingertips were numb

*quirk face*
It is possible I out-wrote myself. Over-wrote myself? Overdid the writing? Right, that. Chapter Twenty remains only a few hundred words. I pout. Come on, brain. This is just a little fanfiction. It's a healthy, growing 61K+ fanfiction that needs at least five more chapters. You can do this.
I should get lunch. Also a doughnut.

Mar. 7th, 2016

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Story experiments: TMNT Fanfiction, "Cold Fire Rising"

"Hey, does anyone remember this amazing story from like years ago, Cold Fire by Joanna Capello, whatever happened to that?" -Ninja Turtle fans on the internet.
LOL. I still exist. This pleases me.
Anyway, this is the first part of a fanfiction story I'm writing. It is basically an overhauled complete rewrite of a fanfic I wrote around 1998, one that made my name popular in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fandom of that time. Recently, I have actually been getting emails from strangers asking me to either find "Cold Fire" or write a new story in the same universe, a world in which our beloved Michelangelo gains telekinetic and telepathic powers via alien technology - but at a nearly fatal price. I was a sadistic little fucker. Angst, Tragedy, and Hurt/Comfort were my Tropes to play with.
This time around, I get to play with the 2012 reboot from Nick. Despite my skepticism of the first season, it really grew on me. Especially their very individual traits. And Mikey has freckles! And huge bright baby blue eyes! However, of course with that comes Mikey being the comedic prankster, the one seen as least intelligent, the loud silly goofy annoying weird hedonist who has ADHD and natural ninja skills and could be the most powerful martial artist if only he'd concentrate his potential.
It irritated me a bit at first when April O'Neil was brought in as a teenager and a hybrid human with Kraang DNA and rudimentary clairvoyant powers. However, once it was established that in Dimension X, Michelangelo was the Genius King, I realized that potentially, Mikey could also have Kraang DNA, which is why he is able to navigate Dimension X as if it were his natural state. "Hey, in crazy backwards land, crazy backwards dude is king." And it does make me wonder if the showrunners will actually touch upon that. If Mikey really has Utrom DNA, and if it is activated, would he be potentially psychic? I'm not waiting to find out.
This story takes place in the middle of Season 4. I know they're on a strict mission to locate all the pieces of the Triceraton black hole generator, to stop the Triceratons from ever getting to Earth in the first place, traveling back in time to prevent not only the destruction of Earth but the entire invasion. But I imagine they could take a break for a few months to deal with... um... this.

So, this is essentially for Emily to review for neuroscience accuracy, and for any TMNT fan who comes across it to read for fun. And if you are not a TMNT fan, or don't even know what TMNT is, think of it as a really weird in media res story with established characters in an established world that you can Google for a few hours. Seriously, this is a fandom that will remain immortal.
And if you do recall the details of "Cold Fire", just keep them in mind, because this will be much different.
PS, did you know that Dr Honeycutt is voiced by David Tennant? Looks like The Doctor has some new companions after all.

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Feb. 22nd, 2016

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Writings: "Blood And Soul"

Guys, I have no idea where to go with this. I recall writing it at the end of college, so between 2000-2001. I think the last time I added anything was 2012. I might just cannibalize it for the autistic Fae novel.

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Feb. 20th, 2016

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Have it their way

Stuff I loved:
The way Finn realizes he needs to adjust his teaching methods to work with the kids' unique world perceptions is quick, incredibly fluid, and clever enough to make it fun and easy for everyone. Put into context, Finn basically set up his own IEP and put his mind into the kids' minds, and decided to use their language, their skills, their observations, rather then pushing them to learn the way he or Bubblegum might want. This made me think about my OT, PT, etc, in childhood, when nobody knew I was autistic, but seeing as cerebral palsy has so much in common with many autistic traits, we were somehow able to turn it into a well-received lesson plan.
The scene with the vine: The children didn't know what it was or what to do, they only knew that Finn needed it while he was sinking. Because they had no past understanding that you cannot yell at a vine to make it a rope, they tried another tactic that they understood from their own world: physical. Pushing the vine swayed it toward the quicksand, and then it was turned into a rope simply by Finn grabbing it. This intrigued me because it mimics the "alien on earth" trope. I don't know what this thing is and nobody will tell me how it works, so I'll use my only frame of reference and what I know how to do, and somehow it still works. Like a math problem, except I can't show my work because I can't explain what I did.

If you open yourself to the child's world and work within their views, language, conceptions, perceptions, and abilities, you'll find that it gets easier to teach them what they need to know. Even if the child continues the behavior pattern that you see as bad - in the scamps' case, scamming, stealing, insulting, bullying - you can know that each lesson shows them other methods of doing their own thing.

When I was little, I had a long unique list of tics and stims that got me Looks. My mother, recognizing a highly anxious, nervous, attention-deficit-disordered mind, would play games that hid lessons on how to soothe myself. I found myself remembering bits of my childhood while watching this episode.

Feb. 3rd, 2016

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Dreams are funny

My dreams have been getting stranger and more fascinating.

Okay, so, most of you have read my thoughts on TMNT writers' treatments of Michelangelo ever since the 1980s cartoon turned him into a goofy, foolish, silly-brained, ridicule-worthy jokester. I blame David Wise, who specifically told me he wrote Mikey as such because he "liked him better that way" - which made me want to smack him. Some of you even remember that in the late 1990s and early 2000s, I won fanfic awards in the tightknit TMNT online community for "most creatively sadistic stories" back when you could find "Cold Fire" and "Ashes To Ashes" before GeoCities was destroyed. (I was the author who turned Mikey into a more serious, artistic softhearted guy who got nearly killed by aliens and developed telekinesis. People still talk about me.)

So anyway, my brain still clings to the original team from the original Mirage comics. Because in last night's dream, they were the latest incarnation, from the CGI show. But this Michelangelo was much less of a goof. Mikey got fed up with his family being assholes to him and disappeared. For a while it was like a first-person video game, in which Mikey/I ran through streets and rooftops, staying hidden; and since Michelangelo's specialties have always been better speed and agility than the others, that factored (even Splinter admitted, in the 2012 CGI TV program, that Michelangelo had the most raw power of all the brothers combined, he just lacked focus and commitment). Eventually it turned back into a TV show, and Mikey started hanging out with a human Japanese family he had befriended previously. They ran a small restaurant catering to those in poverty. Their house was below in a huge basement that split off into rooms, and there was the father and four daughters. Mikey and the 16-year-old girl became best friends, playing video games all day, and he also babysat the toddler and made the pizza, sometimes shaping cheese into kanji and random shapes.
His brothers have been looking for him, wanting to apologize. A random band of assassins have been looking for the human family, because the uncle, a vet physician specializing in human-animal hybrid mutants, couldn't save a mutated member of their bunch. So everybody convenes all at once. There is this confrontation with his brothers and Splinter where Mike is all, Screw you guys, I'm tired of being mocked and kicked around. Arguing happens, Raphael reveals his feelings toward his "little brother" and everyone is touched.
The assassins strike, target the teenage daughter, and Mikey gets shot a few times while protecting her. The uncle shows up, the Turtles attack the assassins, there is ass-kicking all around, the assassins retreat, the heroes rush to the uncle's private hospital, they almost lose Michelangelo and spend a week realizing he's important while he's in a coma, and then eventually everything returns to normal and the human family becomes friends to all the Turtles and Splinter starts training the four daughters.
Also, there was a lot of detailed stuff, like the father and uncle's past, what happened to the mother, the twelve-year-old belatedly realizing the other meaning of "we're going to play video games together", which made the father and Splinter blush and the other siblings giggle, the layout of the restaurant and basement house, the arguments, the streets of Brooklyn in the rain, the assassins; but there isn't enough time in my writerbrain to explain it here.

Haaa, dreams.
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Jan. 28th, 2016

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Sam I Am

Yes, I am letting my disabilities define me and dictate my human powers and ability to function. Along with all the dozens of other things that define me and my life. Autism is one thing. Cerebral palsy is another. So is fibromyalgia. Epilepsy. ADHD.
So is being a woman. A pagan. Jewish. Mediterranean. Eastern European with Asian ancestry. Bisexual. Short. Curvaceous and slim. Cat owner. Skin care hobby expert. Creative writer. Reader and wearer of urban fantasy, paranormal science fantasy, supernatural slipstream fiction, and speculative poetry. Chocolate lover. Sushi eater. Cheese lover. Loves mushrooms and bacon. Would eat emu and bison every week if easily affordable. Prefers online socializing because being corporeal in front of people is hard, and I would not give up Internet because it facilitates disabled communication, something people don't realize when they demand we live Internet free. Loves brownies and cheesecake and pure maple syrup on crepes.
I am so many things.
Among them is my disability. All of it. And I have my labels that keep me living, medicated, taken care of, connected.
I connect to myself through ways I understand best. I was born disabled, so there it is. There is never any shame in it.

I don't have autism.
I AM autism.

Hey parents: get over your fears and embrace us. We are like your children.


Jan. 9th, 2016

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

The walking

It's been a while since I've had a blister. So much walking. Very painful. And the cell phone store didn't have a replacemen model, so the company's insurance will ship me a new phone, which should arrive next week, around Tuesday. I am patient. Computer damage happens. I just won't have a mobile phone for a few days.

Adam went back to Manhatten to take down the display he put up last week. I think I'm all peopled out, with phone calls to Medicard and Medigap and ATT and such. The only people want to speak with right now are the cats. If my best friends or husband or family calls, I'll put on a mask. Cats don't need masks.

Emily, my newest friend, suggested taking my LJ entries tagged Disabilities and organizing them for a blogger site and adding a Patreon link. That way there is plenty of content already while I write more. I might as well apply it to the fiction books, taking a paragraph and inserting it. Hi, writerbrain.

I am so tired. No talking. I need dinner. And a Band-Aid.

Dec. 31st, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate



Dec. 30th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Hi, shadows. LOL, nope.

1 Whyyyy do I still have heartburn.

2 I had eggses and cheese and fruit.
I'm tired of cooked vegetables, except for Chinese Spinach (monchoy, was it? At H-Mart?).

3 Chocolate will be eaten.

4 Later, maybe the boston creme donut.

5 I need to make more chocolate coffee.

6 I think the best eyeliner colors for my water line might be champagne, or bronze, or taupe. I want to open my eyes.

7 I want to sleep. I want to read. This depression Hollow makes bizarre turns.

8 The psychology appointment with the soft hypnosis biofeedback opened up a startling Thing in my deeper mind. I think I can semi-cure one of my "pointless addictive compulsions" if I follow this path. I don't care if it's been five years. Next month I will put it into practice.

9 I think I will end this episode of "Stitchers" and then take a nap. I'm very full and have heartburn and part of me wants to cry for no reason. I want to hate myself enough to self harm. Thus medication and sleep.

What people keep failing to understand is that a sick, scarred, damaged, fucked up brain is a sick damaged organ. If a sickness began five years ago, no amount of treatment over five years will cure it. Not until all that treatment is cohesively brought together. Fuck a five year thing, a three year thing, a seven year thing. Cures will happen when they fucking happen. If I said I would fix it before, I meant it, and I slipped, and I tried to kill myself each time. This time, however, I have neuropsychologist willing and determined to work with a part of me that I had not done so in the past five or six or twenty years. It is embedded. It is in my hands and fingers. Suicidal ideation might actually not happen this time. I have a few months to practice this deeper, stronger, more intense technique. I can yell, scream, rage, and be as angry at myself as I need, but in the end, anger won't work. Asking myself and my deep mind all the questions will work better.

I don't have scars anymore. I mean, not on my body. I know that in the next few weeks, my control might slip, and Dr A says if that happens, I should pull back and learn what that other part of me did that, why the blackouts have been happening, why the OCD has been raging for five years. I hate being told "Well, why didn't those other psychologists help? Why aren't you fixed yet?" Because they were social workers, clinical, too casual. Dr A, he's different. He knows patients like me, he's a rehab psychologist. I am in rehab with him.

I wonder of a person who decides that therapists are useless because they should cure a person, any neuropsychologically sick person, within a set amount of time, has absolutely no idea what it's like to be sick person wrestling with years of control and failure, control and failure. I'm tired of being unable to talk about it without breaking down and destroying my own self, diving too deeply into compulsions that destroy everything because a part of my brain doesn't know how else to respond. Something takes over. Time Agnosia. Epilepsy. Sensory Processing Disorder. Anxiety Disorders. This is what all my support groups are for. Support groups that get demonized because somehow they are pulling me in with their Dark Side and their dark cookies and how dare I feel safe, secure, comfortable, comforted more than I ever have.

No, this isn't about anyone I know. It's about people I don't know who are willing to drag down someone like me to see how much they can hurt me. It will happen again, I can predict that. But now I understand. Neuropsychologically damaged people are great targets.

I'm glad we had this chat.

I feel better.

Dec. 16th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Making editor friends is good and this is good.

In my private autism support forum, I described one of my novels. And three professional book editors popped up to express interest in reading it.
*clears throat*
*takes breath*
'kay, I'm cool.

Time to keep working.
Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Fingertips do grow back, though.

Dear Diary,
Today I almost lost a finger and my husband was medical. It was the best day ever. (Firefly meme reference: "Dear Diary: Today I was pompous and my sister was crazy. It was the best day ever.")

I was cleaning the immersion blender and was literally stupid, as in in a stupor. I put my right middle finger in the center of the blades while they were on. Luckily, Adam had been listening to the series of events and, upon hearing me scream, ran into the kitchen like a Winchester brother out of hell. After we'd wrapped my finger in a paper towel and cleaned the blood off the sink, we examined the two wounds, decided I didn't need surgery, and wrapped a small bandage around both. One slice was across the top, toward the nail bed, and the other was round and mussed my fingerprint. I lost several layers of skin and was very dizzy for a while. Again, not bad enough for hospital or stitches.
I might hang on to that paper towel as a reminder. I bleed a sweet merlot.
Also, Adam cut a finger off one of those blue latex gloves to make a finger condom so I could do stuff.
Tags: ,

Dec. 14th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Ow and dreams and stuff

I apparently had a sleep seizure, probably during a dream somehow or after a dream or something. I am feeling the after effects and a terrific headache of multiple kinds, yay.

In one dream, I was a dragon youkai and every time I showed my demon form, there were strobes and clanging and gongs and tingly burning and a sensory mess and every seizure trigger I have; and another dream involved being part of a polyamorous triad of paranormal mages hunting a shape-shifting serial killer, and the dream kept putting me back in specific scenes over and over where my palsy startle reflex would go off. And I still didn't get to participate in the ritual sex. Thanks, dream.

Also last night the damaged nerves in my right knee decided to act up to literally cripple me visibly in that way I'm not used to, so I was hobbling with knees bent and I cried myself to sleep, and other things happened that exploded most of the nerves in my body, and also the allodynia part of fibromyalgia made me want to tear off my skin while the autistic hypersensitivity made me crave tight clothes and blankets making it a bizarre conflict of interest, and also my joints hurt right now. My fingers feel swollen and hot and it hurts to type and oh hi, allodynia.
I am super not well today.

I mean. I have husband all day, who will help massage and Reiki-thingy and cuddle. So there is that.



Dec. 6th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Art, Life, Imitation, Yada Yada

(Alphas) I'm S2E2, on the episode with the speedy metabolism guy. And I love Gary, and I love how everyone loves Gary, and he is sweet and they are sweet, and that dialogue between Gary and Hicks about the text messages was especially adorable. I might do what Gary did in a snarky way, because part of my brain would totally latch on to the literalness of Hicks' words.
Nobody tells Gary to not be autistic. They just are his friends and they help him help them help him. If I had seen "Alphas" when I was first diagnosed, I might have clung on like a life preserver. I mean, sure I still would have had Futurama playing in the background at all hours until guests with short fuses got angry at me. But this show would have happened, too.

In one interview with Ryan Cartwright, he said he liked to do a little improv, toss in a joke curveball at the end of a line, even just a physical quirk, throwing the other actors off just a bit. I would have preferred he had gotten more inspiration for Gary from more actual autistics beyond doctors and therapists, but he still did fairly well.

Maybe it's me. I grew up being... encouraged! to be all the social nice things, the smiling, the polite laughter, the handshake. Outside of my hypersensitivity, I crave hugs. If I could hug, or bow, rather than shake hands, I ask for that. Heavy eye contact makes me shaky and weird unless it's for meditative purposes specific. I wasn't supposed to show cerebral palsy, let alone dyspraxia or physically manifested anxiety or any of the conditions frequently associated with autism.
Gary Bell has a lot of physical motions, movements, tics and twitches, that I do not. Gary Bell also speaks in a semi-rising flat affect that is nearly totally literal. I had to teach myself in high school to not do that. It was easy, since I could practice on the librarian, or guidance counselor, or the gym coaches who gently poked me when I needed cheering. I don't have any memory of fellow students interacting with me. I don't look like Gary Bell. I don't talk like Gary Bell. But I know Gary Bell.

My sarcasm, satire, and snark is built thickly upon dry wit. I know sarcasm well, except sometimes I will ask what you mean Was that sarcasm? Was that literal? Why did you make that face? Is that a scowl? Are you angry at me? What did I do? I'm pathetic, I'm sorry.
Most of my sarcasm was learned from my highly sarcastic, witty, dry humoured parents, and later by bingeing Futurama, no kidding. My parents script at each other constantly. They quote old movies from the 1940s and beyond, they have little codes in the form of film dialogue. And my mother with her ADHD, my father with general anxiety and empathic healing projection, who may be neurodivergent after all... I learned because I had to. The point is that if you are having a conversation in a small group and I wander off because I seem bored or lost, it's because I don't know how or what to contribute and I will turn into a cat. You must find me and say a thing. See, this happened Friday after Thanksgiving. C. and M. were ready to leave, and suddenly during a discussion of C. and I loving qigong, M. very casually mentioned her autism, and I just erupted with glee, oh oh oh, tribe, hello, oh my! I finally became animated. And So C. And I shall continue to talk about quantum physics and martial arts, and how autism plays into it.

I have many theories. At least one does involve bunnies.

Nov. 21st, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Jewelry and Brain

I have two pendants that attach to two medical ID charms via jump rings. But it wasn't until I joined an Autistics Only support group that I realized that the infinity symbol with the different colorful gemstones is a symbol for neurodiversity and the autism spectrum, hopefully to replace that godawful puzzle piece that tries to insist that we are missing or some shit.

So, here's the Infinity symbol.

And here's the Faery Star, or seven-petal flower:

I love them like I love my gemstone bracelets. They mean special things.

Nov. 16th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Abyss vacation

Today: several small seizures, one huge meltdown, motor apraxia, and the crushing dark Hollow of clinical depression.
The next person who asks why I feel that way will be laughed at. Sometimes life, duh. Leave me alone. I'm not doing good with memory. I want the phone to stop ringing. I changed the house phone tones to classical music. I still don't want to talk to anyone.
Unless it's about the next episode of Heroes Reborn. Or cats. Or videos.

I am literally numb. You want me to actually care enough? Wait until I have had my medication and therapy. Expect a flat accent with flat emotions. Also, I am working House chores, novel, stories. All the careless mistakes I have made will be reprimanded later. BRB, more Klonopin so the OCD fades slightly. I know I am bad. Today of all days I don't need to be reminded. BRB, sending consoling words to friend whose daughter died. BRB, helping writer friends with ideas. I will punishment self later. Today dances in the numb, emotion free Hollow. And it is just fine.

Nov. 15th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

I'm not even a medical

Some light reading for later.


I've been working on a blog post. Trying to find words about "high and low ends of the spectrum" when the spectrum is a Mobius Strip, trying to find words about "nonverbal adult in diapers" without feeling angry. Trying to turn it into a respectable blog and not an upset rant
Maybe find a way to be paid somehow.
Comments and corrections by actual students and academics are yes welcome thank you.

Nov. 13th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Srsly, still Actually Autistic


Nov. 8th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Unspoken. Passionate. Go do the thing.

Thing I wrote to help promote Emma Zurcher Long from emmashopebook.com
I currently cannot donate, but I deeply encourage everyone to do what they can and share far and wide.

The stigma needs to end. Autistic children are being killed, autistic adults are being abused, ongoing, and media doesn't know how to talk about it.

We are not burdened, miserable, trapped, stolen, diseased, scary, animalistic, lesser than. We are just as people as anyone. We have a completely different Brain Operating System. Within that system are dozens of files of co-existing syndromes and disorders, which must be looked at for what they are.

Some autistic people have confessed that they "would give anything to be free of the burden of autism and wouldn't wish it on anyone." These comments upset and frighten me, because those internalized ableist ideals are so deeply mired in dregs of social manipulation and emotional torment that they may be as dangerous as the "autism martyr moms" who abuse their children in the name of love and compliance.

Autism cannot be cured. It is impossible. To shut off, rework, or remove a brain and replace it with potentially incompatible bits is not going to cure autism. The autism IS the brain. If people are so desperate for a healing, perhaps we could start with obvious depression disorders, sensory processing disorders, occupational therapy, therapies for speech and communication and socializing.
If you are autistic, you are not worthless or useless or incapable of being loved. That needs to stop before more autistics die from abuse, neglect, murder, and the extreme assumptions made by people who just want us to be normal. For us, this is normal.

We have been around forever. We're not going anywhere. Please stop hurting us and start helping us. We want to be with you.
I hope Emma and her film will help make that possible.

Nov. 3rd, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Doctor doctor, gimme the news

It has been ages since I made this many phone calls in an hour to so many medical facilities. Pant, pant.
Although it is reviving my awesome Pleasant Phone Demeanor. I am killing it with the sweet kindness of an understanding client who sympathies deeply with technical difficulties.

Oct. 27th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Poor Alice, my husband smiled after we hugged*

Oh, fuck off epilepsy,I have to finish writing my autistic epileptic cerebral palsy Part-Fae character's magic psionically triggered seizure before I go to bed early so I can catch tomorrow's Metro Access van to my chronic pain psychologist appointment for biofeedback. Do your damn complex seizure thing, make me cry, put me to bed.

If I'm a pagan of the good times
My lover's the sunlight
To keep the Goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice
To drain the whole sea
Get something shiny
Something meaty for the main course
That's a fine looking high horse
What you got in the stable?
We've a lot of starving faithful
That looks tasty
That looks plenty
This is hungry work
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

Fuck's sake, brain just call them around me: Eris, Pasithea, Morpheus, Hypnos, Pan, Dionysus, Lyssa, Apollo, The Maniae, Phobos, Lethe. I cry for Isis, Bast, Mama Ji, The Morrigan, only because of my childhood spent with them, and I am reverent even typing. My blood isn't for them but an older part is. And as I write this the seizure descends like a screeching storm and I am swept along down into the shattered glass of the rabbit hole growing ever wider and ever deeper, and out the other side I will be
You will see

*I am recovering slowly. It's time for bed.

Sep. 14th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

...it's exercise tho?

The shopping center containing my CVS is 1.2 miles from my home, accord to Google. For an average walk, it's 23 minutes or so.
And I tell myself all the time, Oh, it's not so bad. It's just a mile. Psh, you can do that just fiiine.
I always forget. I always forget.

So, after I walked through the door, put my cane in the bucket, crawled upstairs, and crawled onto the bed, Callisto came and sat next to me. We didn't say anything. I saw her face when I was walking to the door, through the full length window, as she was sitting on the cat tree. She had that look, you know, the one that says Damn it, did you hurt yourself again? as much as a cat can convey such a look.
On the bed, she turned and stared at me, and trilled once, and I sighed. And a mental exchange took place:

-You tried to walk all the way back from the pharmacy, didn't you?
-And you told yourself you wouldn't hurt and that you could stop at any of the bus stops if you did hurt.
-But you did hurt, and you kept going because you wanted to push yourself. And it took you an hour, because your mile will never be a regular person's mile, and your lower back was giving out halfway through.
-And now you're in a hellmouth of pain and you want to scream but you won't because you already did the thing.
-Were you very deliberate about walking the entire mile?
-Are you happy you did so?
-Okay, then.

Callisto stood, stretched, yawned, and walked to the foot of the bed, right where my feet were, and she curled up and went to sleep.

I enjoy inventing conversations with my cats.

Also, ow.

Also, ow...

Sep. 10th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

The Annual Poem in Remembrance

The Brave Ones

What price we pay
What cost innocence
What graves we dig
To bury ourselves.
What world is this
Just outside
Touch forbidden
Bury me not in the shroud of your tears
But in the soothing soil of your soul
Where I am withered
Only to heal
In the night
At the price
Of my innocence.

Sep. 8th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Sail to me, let me enfold you

So, er, yeah. People and society is why it's so hard to ask for help.

A Thing happened a few days ago. I grabbed the reins and just barely pulled it in, but it's clawing and angry and if I could just stop this symptomatic crying reaction that'd be greeaat.

A comment I left on a friend's post:
"Plus, autism comorbidities often overlap with cerebral palsy comorbidities, which includes ADHD and all the anxiety cooties and depersonalization and dyspraxia and migraine disorder and intermittent aphasia and dyscalculia and sensory processing disorder and epilepsy and guess how many different diagnoses I actually have!!
...I still don't know how to categorize the fibromyalgia. We still THINK it came from the cerebral palsy. But I also have what we thought is Primary Raynaud's Syndrome, which might be secondary from something or other. Friends like to ask me what my brain is running around with right now, and we get into fun discussions. Two dozen medical conditions, being tossed back and for in academic conversations feels much better when we're laughing."

Many of us with major depressive disorders linked to anxiety and neuroweird are brushed aside as too sensitive, too focusrd, too obsessed. So we are ashamed to seek therapy which is like shopping anyway. But I prefer online friends with either degrees or deep knowledge who know me well enough to help me disentangle.

I'm in both a Hollow depression and a depersonalization mild episode. My brainbody is its own. I'm a ghost. My left side only works when I command it.

I'm numb and drifting. I know how to emote; I don't have energy to care. If I cry, it's only because it's a startle reaction, not because I'm upset. What's anger? I remember laughter. Depersonalization is a foggy window that frostily destroys my scrawled messages on glass. Shut up. I don't want to hear you mock me.

I have shells, wall, orbs, bubbles, tanks, fortresses, warriors and knights all created from scraps of me. I don't come out of many of my certain shells but I'll show you masks. These days I can't trust anyone except a very chosen few.

My mind is lost. Someone help me find it. Don't tell me to go to therapy, it's happening anyway. Just give me a stick. Boggle The Owl says to have a stick ready to pull me out.
It would be cool if the stick were a wand with Phoenix and Owl feathers.
I don't want to drown. But feeling is like being crushed.

Someone bolster my strength and polish my spears. I'm covered in blood. I'm going in. The monsters are so large. I need to be clinical technical stone faced hardened. I need to cultivate the Nothing. I can't fight back without a platform. It's all sliding backwards. My spears and swords and mental force fields are cracked.
How do you ask for help when nobody else can see your bloody armour, soaked from drowning, broken weapons bandaged together.
I am Hollow. Crying is a symptom. Don't touch me. Please hold me. Please stop talking over me. You don't realize why and what and how I do.

Sometimes it's best to have a safe house in your mind brain. Sometimes your name isn't yours.

I keep falling.

I'm going to work on this book and do debilitating things to every character.

I have another name anyway. It's mine. I don't know how to be here but she knows how too be me.

The bandages and braces need to be tightened.

Sep. 5th, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate

Knees, braced

Prescription knee braces, yoga pants, and athletic shoes with memory foam and air pocket soles. For the cripple who likes to look stylish during home treatment physical therapy.

Suddenly my childhood memories of that heavy left leg brace are flooding in. Heh.

Sep. 2nd, 2015

Persephone, Asha, Hecate


Breeeeaathe breathe breathe.
Kathleen Doherty from Tor Books and I had a wonderful long chat about plot fixing and editing and character building. And she said at the end that after I've completely finished the First Novel, I can send the manuscript to her for review.
Meanwhile, she wants me to tighten the main plot, tighten the character voices and viewpoints, figure out what details are most vital, and which side stories and side voices can be cast aside or changed.
I've known this subconsciously, but it really actually makes a huge helpful difference when a veteran professional tells you and then is pleased when you agree. She was extremely proud of my proactive, feet first approach.
We also shared our praise of Cat Valente, who I've been following on LiveJournal for years. It turns out that most of my most influences have been published by Tor or a connected house.
Tee hee
Kathleen is also one of the kindest, sweetest, gentlest people to talk to. I barely felt anxious. I barely needed to play-act. I was mostly me. I shook only slightly. Mostly out of excitement.
The fact that I actually have a person "on the inside" now. That's. Uh. Y'know. That's a thing. I am kind of shaky. Klonopin and Inositol. Tai chi. Calm. Calm. I have beta readers. I know how to fix the holes. I'm okay. It's okay.
This book has been working me for sixteen years. It can wait just a little longer.
*Pinkie Pie explosion*

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