Post #135 - Behind The Mask

Do you ever, like me, stop and think, 'why the hell do I bother even attempting to help people?'  Maybe you do, perhaps you don't?  Yep, I can be a right angry bear at times, but the truth of the matter is that I'm really frustrated by life at the moment.  Regular readers of this blog will know that I took redundancy from the civil service just over two years ago and since then, I've been searching for something meaningful to fill my time.  As I've frequently mused upon, finding gainful employment is almost impossible for people with Autism, but with a little tweaking, the skills I've picked up during my career in the public sector can be transferred across to the voluntary sector.

Take for example: charity work; yes, it can be rewarding and annoying in equal measure, but recently the pendulum is swinging towards the latter option.  Why?  Well, let's define the verb itself (credit: Google Dictionary)

autism

ˈɔːtɪz(ə)m/

noun

noun: autism

1. a mental condition, present from early childhood, characterized by great difficulty in communicating and forming relationships with other people and in using language and abstract concepts.

Origin

early 20th century (originally with reference to a condition in which fantasy dominates over reality, regarded as a symptom of schizophrenia and other disorders): from Greek autos ‘self’ + -ism.

... from 'autos' meaning 'self' - so in a word, selfish.  I'm increasingly getting really fed up with this particular aspect of the condition.  Autistic people can be complete unreasonable arseholes at times and as for some, and by no means all, parents of children/adults on the spectrum, they're bloody worse - rude, entitled and demanding as hell.  Writing as somebody, who, until her late thirties, knew something was wrong, but not exactly what, I've been musing it for a while now.  I did exist in the world, held down a career, got married, had a son and generally masked my condition.  I've been 'unmasked' for nearly five years and hey, I just want to grab the mask back, stick it back on my face and return to a world when autism was something which happened to other people.  I know that it's impossible to do that, especially as my son's on the spectrum and it would be frankly ridiculous concept, but I'm coming out of the other side, it'll take a while, but it'll be fine.

My recent PIP assessment made me re-address my past history, with special reference to the last five years or so and directly led to a bout of hypomania which has lasted for two weeks now.  It's not a nice feeling - think of a swarm of bees buzzing in your skull and you'll have some idea.

Post #36 - Dealing With Care Issues

Regular readers may be aware that my husband was, until recently, the main point of caring contact for his 90-year-old mother, who has vascular dementia and 54-year-old brother, who has profound learning and physical difficulties.  I won't repeat myself as it's all detailed in one of my other blogs: Caring For The Carers.

Right, as an aspie, dealing with the minefield of family care is pretty bad.  Aspies are always told that they 'lack empathy' and that's true for me in some ways, but not in others.  I do care deeply for those close to me, but if it's an unfeeling and selfish person, well let's just say that I'm not afraid to make my feelings known.  I did this once after my brother died; one of my grandfather's Pimlico neighbours (who was, strangely, the daughter-in-law of former UK Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin) kept calling our home number and accusing us of ignoring my grandfather's needs.  After about two terse calls with the patrician pest I told her to go away in no uncertain terms.

I've just dealt with my husband's email correspondence regarding our new focus on close family care this year.  I think that this late 1980s track really sums up my thoughts at the moment: Tired Of Getting Pushed Around.