Letter to My Parents (Safe Version)

My parents recently responded unfavorably to my plan to move to a different state next year so I can be with my girlfriend. I was quite upset by it. My girlfriend suggested that I write down my thoughts, the things I wish I could, or one day might, say to them. This is the version I would probably tell them, leaving out certain aspects of the truth so as to avoid what could be a very bitter scene. *Takes a deep breath* Here goes. (Note: Names are fake.)

You guys have no idea, but I'm in  love with Kat. That may not make sense to you, but really, I've been in love with her for years. The moment we meant, there was an attraction. There's a reason we were best friends, always talking to each other, for hours at a time. There's a reason I always spent as much time as possible with her. I loved her, even if I couldn't admit it to myself at the time. And she loved me.

She was engaged to Dumbass. But that didn't make my feelings go away, nor did it make her feelings go away. Before she met me, she had promised to marry him. I'm not going to say whether that was right or wrong - that's her life, she can explain it herself. Just that, despite her being engaged to him, there was still a bond between us, the desire for one another's company, the need to be accepted by the other. We did date, for a short while, and it didn't work out for the same reason we often didn't talk for periods, because I wasn't ready to be that close to another person. Shortly before we stopped talking for nearly five years, I realized that I did love her. Miscommunication on both our parts led to our horrific fight. I walked away because, after discovering that I loved her, I was scared. I was afraid of being with her because I was sure that eventually, it would fall apart. I've had commitment issues since I was a teenager, always shoving people away. That was another example of that, the main example, really.

Over the past four years, she and I have separately reflected on what we were when we knew each other. When we started talking again, it confirmed to both of us that our feelings hadn't vanished. We were still in love with each other. This time, however, a 45-minute drive wouldn't let me see her. But in exchange for that, we were both far more mature and knowledgeable about ourselves than we were before. We're not afraid of loving one another.

Why do I love her? Because she gets me. No one else ever has, not the way she does. She tolerates me, deals with my depressive episodes and my negativity, as well as my manic sprees and bold declarations. I feel emotions very strongly, and she understands that and is okay with it. She accepts my weaknesses and wants to help me. She doesn't condemn me. She doesn't ignore me. She lets me be myself. I'm not afraid to say what I think about her. And if all that doesn't sound special, think about this: All of those things are extraordinary, because I don't get any of them from other people. I'm always the person I have to be around whoever I'm around. When I'm around Dad, I have to be a certain person. When I'm around Mom, I have to be a certain person. When I'm around both of them, I have to be a third person, separate from the other two. I can't say what I want. It's like putting on a different suit to deal with each person and each combination of people. I don't have to put on airs around her. I can be my weepy, girly self, my dominant, forceful self, my geeky, nerdy self, I can be who I am! And I can't even imagine anyone else letting me do that.

I'm not sure that I'll like living with her family. And yes, she has children. But why not take a chance and maybe be happy? Because I'm certainly not happy here. It can be enjoyable, but I have no one to love, no one to take care of me when I need it, no one to even talk to! All my friends are a joke, I'm not building towards anything, and I am getting nowhere at all. No goals, no ambition, nothing. And even if I do develop an ambition, there's no way I'll be able to make it come true. You guys do your best, but you simply know nothing about progressing in this world. I never went into a four-year school mostly because it was too much hassle. It's not because the homework would have been too hard or it would have cost too much money. Plain and simple, we didn't follow through because we didn't understand all the forms and protocols and got scared. And we've talked about me trying to get into a trade place, learn something useful and get a good job. What's happened with that? Absolutely nothing. Because all this family does is talk. We have no conviction, no confidence, no desire to take a chance. We'd rather go down on a slowly sinking ship than jump in the water and try to swim for safety. That's why it took us years to move out of the shithole we used to live in, despite it being obvious that the dump was falling apart, the landlord was never going to fix anything, and the bills were going to keep being so expensive that we could barely pay them. It's not because moving costs a lot of money; that factored, but it was mostly because the two of you didn't want to rock the boat or try. Same with every other problem we've ever had. As soon as we moved into this place, I pointed out that one of the showers was effectively useless. Has anything happened? Have you talked to the landlord about how the shower fixtures are crappy and need to be changed? Nope. We just use the shower as a storing place for a laundry basket. And it'll probably still be like that six months from now. Probably longer.

So you'll have to excuse me for wanting to get away from this apathetic atmosphere. Kat will help me create my own life, in a new city where I can be whoever I want, where I don't have to worry about someone who knows my brother finding out some secret of mine and relaying it to him, who then relays it to you. I won't have to worry about running into old dicks from high school who think they know a single thing about me. I won't have to be "Shaggy." I'll be my own goddamned person, who handles his own money, plans his own future, and does things for himself. Frankly, I'm tired of being dragged down by this family. I need strong people to support me, or else I'll keep being weak my entire life. And doing drugs, getting arrested, not keeping any sort of financial record, blowing money, never saving a dime, never improving yourself the least bit - that's the definition of weak. And I am sick and tired of it.

I want to live a good life, with a woman I love, without constant, idiotic fights that revolve around neither person listening to the other. I want to help raise happy children in a happy home. I want to not be poor my entire life. I don't want to be working class forever. Will living with Kat and her family be paradise? Certainly not. But it can't be worse than what I've lived in my entire life. I'm tired of the hate, the anger, the sheer lack of motivation. I want better. I deserve better. If you can't understand that, if you want me to go on living this tepid life, where nothing changes at all, then you really don't care about me. I'm a 25-year-old that doesn't know how to drive! Because you didn't teach me. I got my first job five months ago! Because you never made me get a job or really helped me look for one. I graduated a community college summa cum laude, with terrific grades, but never continued my education. Because it was too hard to figure out the process. I let you do all these things, I didn't try hard enough to make them happen, I will admit that, but you're my parents! It was your job to make me do things, to prepare me for the world! When I wanted to learn how to drive, neither of you tried hard to teach me. When I said that I wanted a job, wanted something to kill all the time I had, nobody took me to places or told me to call back relentlessly, that that's how you get a fucking job!. When I wanted to go back to school, all I got were long discussions about how easy it would be and empty promises that we'd look into it at some point.

I'm disgusted at the state my life is in right now. Is it so crazy that I want a change?

(Yeah . . . lot of anger there. Might want to hold off talking to my parents about this for a long, long time.)

Overload

I went to an anime convention this past Saturday. It was very fun. I walked around with some people I trust (or come close to trusting), I never had to do anything that made me uncomfortable (though at night we did walk around a city, and I didn't care for that at all), and I got to see a lot of interesting and exciting things. (God, the cute girls and amazing outfits make it all worth it.)

When I got home Sunday morning, I was exhausted. I slept a ton. I was also exhausted and slept a ton the day after. It is now Tuesday, and I am still tired.

Hurray for Asperger's!

This is a common thing for people with Asperger's. We go out and do something, and then we crash and feel like we've run a marathon. It doesn't matter if it was something as simple as going to the store, it can still wear us out.

I'm not an expert on autism. I have it, and that's pretty much all. So excuse me if I am completely wrong about things, but I believe that this break-down after venturing into the world (or just hanging out with friends) comes from sensory overload. We see a lot, we think a lot, and we have trouble processing it all. We may enjoy ourselves at the time, but after we get away from the excitement, once we are able to get back into our own worlds, our brains fry. It's not a conscious thing, it just happens. And though it doesn't happen all the time, there really isn't any way to prevent it.

I can only speak from personal experience, but to me going out and doing something is radically different from being relaxed at home, and there is a simple symbol that separates the two - shoes. When I'm at home, I never wear shoes. Why bother, right? I'm just walking around the house. But if I need to leave the house, I have to put on shoes. Over the years, it's become ingrained in me that putting on shoes means putting aside the relaxed version of myself, who is unseen by everyone and isn't judged by anyone, and becoming a more responsible person, who will buckle down and focus on getting things done. Though it's not as bad now as it used to be, an easy way to tell if I'm comfortable around you is whether I always keep my shoes on around you or if I can take them off without coercion. Because once my shoes are off, I can be a bit of a slob. I'm more likely to say what I'm thinking and not worry about how you might interpret it. I can be a real asshole. But honestly, everybody can (and is). The only difference with me is that I hide it most of the time. Once I allow myself to relax, I can be my complete, true self, and that can come as a shock to people that think I am incapable of being, well, human.

So, when I put on my shoes, I become somewhat like a different person. I'm not really that different, but I do think. To put it simply, when my shoes are on, I'm working. I am exerting effort. Imagine having to constantly work, never getting a real break. Even if it's a small amount of work, it literally never lets up until I take my shoes off and get comfortable. It's like holding your hand up. It's not hard to do, but after you've had it up for a minute or two, it really starts to hurt. A fun exercise - try holding your hand up for thirty minutes. It doesn't have to be all the way up, just up to your eye or thereabouts. See if you can keep it there for half an hour. Most people won't be able to, and those that can won't be able to do so without feeling quite a bit of pain. That's what socializing is like for people with Asperger's, or at least people like me. It's constant effort, without any breaks. We're lucky if we can catch our breath by going to the bathroom and just sighing in relief that no one's eyes are on us, but even that may not be an option if there is anybody else in the bathroom (public restroom, that is; hopefully there wouldn't be anybody else in a home bathroom, eek). It's hard, and it's understandable why most of us don't like to leave the house or be around large groups of people. It doesn't mean that we're anti-social or don't like other people or doing fun things. It just means that often, what we'll get out of it is not worth the work we'll have to put into it, even if it would be a very fun and rewarding experience. And believe it or not, that says more about what we have to deal with than the quality of the event.

The TV Changes, the Sound Remains but the Picture is Gone

I just had a nightmare. Well, the closest thing to a nightmare I get.

In it, my family had moved into a new house, which is something that actually happened fairly recently. (In the dream, as in real life, there was a basement which my brother had taken as his room and an empty in-ground pool near the house.) Weird stuff was happening all over the place.

The back door kept opening. At one point, I saw that it was open, but there was a screen door still closed. It was raining at the time, and I told my parents that if the screen door hadn't been closed, the kitchen floor would be soaked.

My mother's mental state was abysmal. During the time it was raining, I went from one room to another to get a bag of chips for my father, and due to some misunderstanding, I shouted something at him. I was a little angry, but I mostly shouted because the rain was loud and making it hard to hear. That, for whatever reason, tore my mother up, and she started sobbing and acting like she was having a mental breakdown. Nothing I did to console her did any good.

Space didn't seem right in the house. It was like the dimensions didn't add up correctly. There was a woman there (not sure who she was, but it was as if she was the realty woman, though we were already moved into the house and settled), and I asked her to show me the layout of the house, because I didn't quite understand how everything fit. We started at the corner of the left side of the house and went from the living room (which had a very small bathroom, with only a small toilet, nearly hidden to the side; I had never seen it before, in fact) through the kitchen. Instead of turning and going into the next room, she kept going straight and went out the back door. I heard some loud noise but couldn't figure out what it was. Then I saw that she had driven her car into the empty pool, which was beside where we had walked through the house, and it was as if she was trying to get into a space beneath the pool, like that was the next part of the house and she had to show it to me.

The worst thing was how the TV messed up. This happened later in the dream, after I had declared that the house was haunted, specifically the basement. We gathered in front of it, and it scrambled so that you couldn't make out anything. We had some friends over to show it to them, and it messed up again, but this time the picture, in addition to messing up, changed to a view of us, like there was a camera in the TV that was recording us. I think it would also show scenes from the lives of our friends who were visiting, as if they were recorded on a tape we were playing. What really made it disturbing is that it seemed like the TV would mess up when we were talking about the house being haunted.

For the longest time, excluding when I was a kid and was easily scared at everything, I've said that I wanted to be scared by movies and books and stories. I love creepy atmospheres. I've stated my intention to live in a haunted house because one, the price would be incredibly low (because that's how it always works, right? gigantic house for dirt cheap means it's haunted), and two, I'd see it as a sort of challenge. After all, how could a ghost actually harm me?

Bravado. All of it. In reality, I'm still the scared little boy I was when I had to close my eyes whenever the scene in Little Monsters with the boy in the suit came on near the end of the movie. There is a world of difference between me now and me back then, but most of it comes from the fact that very little scares me. Look at haunted house movies and books - they're all either over-the-top or focused on the characters or history of the house, and neither one of those does anything for me. Over-the-top things like poltergeist activity and visible apparitions that practically sing and dance aren't believable. They're not subtle, and they keep you from putting yourself into the role of the characters. Everyone can say, "I've heard odd sounds at night. What if my house is haunted?" No one could say, "Stuff flies around my house, this is just like my life!" Similarly with stories focused on the personalities of the characters involved or the history of a house being haunted. Knowing that the head of a household is a former alcoholic that still struggles with booze can help you relate to the character, but it can keep you from placing yourself into the story and imaging that the haunting is happening to you. If you know that the lights turn on in a certain room at a certain time because that's when a previous owner fed her beloved cat, it takes the mystery out of it, and it's not scary.

But when something comes along that does genuinely frighten me, I hate it. And I have to wonder, how could anybody like being scared? I love the horror genre, but not because it scares me. I like it because it's interesting and it can make my blood pump. The Puppet Master series is a personal favorite because many of the dolls scare the hell out of me. In particular, the guy with the drill on his head can keep me up at night, due as much to his blank expression as the deadly instrument on top of his head. But I know that no doll is going to start running around and trying to kill me. So, it scares me, but really, it makes my heart race. The bad kind of scary, and what really fits the term "scare," is when something makes your heart stop, when you're frozen with fear. If you can scream, you're not really scared. Your instincts may be activated, something may surprise you, but you're not filled with dread and disbelief and the absolute knowledge that things are not right.

The best way to scare me is to make me feel as though I am powerless. That's why haunted house stories and ghost stories (the rare times that they are done well) frighten me so. How do you make a door stop opening when there is no cause? How do you keep a room from being cold all the time? How do you fight a ghost? How do you control something that is beyond the realm of physics as we know it? Ghosts may have rules, and indeed, if they do exist, they are governed by some set of rules, but when we have no knowledge of such rules and no idea how to make use of them or if we even can, how does that help us? If we know nothing about a situation, how can we analyze it, how can we exert control over it?

Needless to say, I'm talking about more than just ghosts and haunted houses.

Man, I hate bad dreams. I might hate them less if I could actually be bothered to turn them into stories.