Cutting the Input (Aspergers)

This is a Flare Audio Isolate earplug.
https://www.flareaudio.com/

It has worked brilliantly for me in reducing the noise. The metal is aluminium and its combined with a soft earplug.

So delighted with these I ordered a second pair and extra earplugs.

It doesn’t entirely cut off all sounds, but plenty enough. The ones the annoy me. The near constant ones.

My hands are big as are my ears, but these in my opinion are better than silicone ear plugs. Yes it’s strange, but I’m blue glasses guy anyway. 

I take one out if I need interact. Otherwise both in and it’s great. 

Post Meltdown (Aspergers )

My wifi plays up when kids are here. Too many devices probably. Everything is okay when I’m myself.

My TV remote doesn’t work properly in living room, my autie son broke it as a toddler. I rely on an Apple TV box to rely iplayer to watch any TV.

 My ex moved the TV three times, wired up TV things in bedroom and kitchen that I never wanted and basically the result is I can’t watch conventional TV and neither can the kids. Things were okay until I couldn’t afford sky anymore.

We rely on the BT hub router wifi thing. But when boys are here it goes down two hours at a time. I’m continually told it can’t be their iPads it must be my router.

It went off this morning. My phone or iPad gunges then the kids start shouting and running about and then wanting me to fix it.

I tried calling BT an hour ago. I got a local accent at first, then the call was passed to India. I had to slowly say problem and then recite my phone number. Clearly the call passing doesn’t say where it came from.

I got upset when they insisted on my details. I shouted and screamed that I just wanted help, that their questions were not help.

I upset my youngest son. He ran away from being in same room.

I tried one more time but just screamed again at the call being passed.

I can’t do phone calls anymore. I’m angry at myself. I’m in a post meltdown calm stage and I’m sad, upset and quiet. 

I’m upset I’m scared my downstairs neighbour will call police on me again for shouting and I haven’t fixed problem.

The DWP claim I don’t have anything wrong with me though. I’m worried BT will cut me off as I screamed.

A date and a time (Aspergers)

It’s came in. I have a date and time for my PIP hearing. I’m the usual, anxious, worried, scared, at times terrified. 

I have looked and looked away from the screed of papers. 

I’m writing this on the train, my head has been full. 

I picked the one with ten minutes to go, so I could sit with my bag of food shopping, my rucksack. It’s a better evening than morning so I’m carrying my jacket

I feel warm and sweaty. It’s too hot for me. I’m carrying stuff. 

I’m out of sorts. 

I’ve been uncomfortable walking along Argyle Street from the shop I got food in, I hated how busy it was and all the people and all the eyes. 

I’ve hated the noise of buses on the streets and music coming from the shops. 

I tried avoiding a chugger with ‘sorry bud’ said loud and clearly. 

I’m not enjoying people getting on the train and acting in their demanding way for a seat, especially those walking through the train and coming from behind me and setting off the doors between carriages. 

I’m trying to look away from people I’m willing the train to move, bleeps to go on the outside doors. So I can be a bit less stressed for ten minutes.

The doors close, I feel the air pressure change. Two men are talking 10 metres away at the doors, I’m hearing every word.

 I’m feeling every movement as the train crosses the x’s of the points. 

A family burst through the doors behind me luggage and noise and a women lurches near me with her hair and her smell. I lean away.

The papers from the DWP imply I’m not that bad and things are okay as I’m capable of driving.

A mobile rings on the carriage it’s an insistent grating tone that distracts me, then another different one. 

The train lurches at points at Shields Junction. I’m sweating now. 

I have to move again in my seat as someone is coming right at me to work those doors. It’s like his arm is reaching at me. I’m trying not to react.

I’m not happy, I want this over.

 I have too much stuff with me, Those men keep talking and talking and talking.   

The door again, the same guy coming back into this carriage. The same things as I hear/feel/notice movement.

Hillington. Over soon. The fields now outside. Yellow, must be rapeseed. 

He’s standing again. Why? 

They’re talking. Almost Paisley!!

I’m off. 1757. Phew. I’m standing, breathing.

 I want the train away, the crowd getting off here away. 

I message my daughter. Put everything together and go. 

I walk from the station, people doors, moving around, getting out.

The street, cars zooming past. I feel the rush of air, if my feet are still, the vibration too. 

I’m tense. I want to cross. It’s three lanes, an old wide street made one way. 

I get across, keep moving, there’s a women taking stuff out the Tattoists to their bins, I’m going sideways a bit to avoid her when she comes back. 

I’m past her and away thinking how I think and what I do and what I’ve started writing.

I get to the other crossing point, traffic flowing but a buzz in the air, a helicopter, black one. Lights change I can cross. I stop and take a picture (for you).


I keep going, the buzz is still as loud, rotors. It’s stationary in one place in the air. I want it to go.

 I get near the park, the pavement is narrow and a girl is coming the other way towards me, I speed up, get to wider bit, go through the park.

Helicopter, Fountain, kids playing, people talking, birdsong, trees swaying and the noise of their leafs moving in the wind. Road cars, noise, a truck over a drain over. Clank. 

I’m out the park. Nearly home. The helicopter moves slowly. Still the noise and buzz and loudness.

The outside door, moving my jacket and feeling for keys. I keep reaching in same pocket, I sway, bags. 

Finally keys. 

In and up. Door open door closed. 

Bags down, sweaty shirt off over my head. Shows off. Feet. Ooh.

Then the letter for the tribunal and it’s date and time. They think there’s nothing wrong with me…

This one’s for the Aspies x (Aspergers)

I’ll never understand my condition and my thoughts.

At peace, it’s beautiful and I see clearly and can see clearly and appreciate music, art and literature. I can be creative and positive and free and almost smile.

But it’s the fogs and clouds and darkness I dislike the fuzziness and cotton wool cloud that I make do with in the daytime, the bright lights and the noises, the too loud voices, the irritating sounds and the heat and the warmth and the whole cocoon of it all. 

My intellect gets me so far, I’m smarter than that big cloud of stuff, but it’s continual and it doesn’t ever stop.

So I block it out. The headphones, the ear pieces, the coloured glasses, hats anything to lessen it all. 

To breathe cool air, to feel gentle textures to move gently, to float, glide, to be effortless, to whisper.

To fascinate in detail, to appreciate things, to see every detail, to know nuance and the parts and bits and colours and..

It comes to fog. Blank faces, words misunderstood, raging at ignorance and incomprehension.

Knowing this language and the beauty of its words and sounds and inflections, but stumbling at Hi.

Liking people and wanting to be at one with them and finding the corner, the edge, near the door.

Days and time and being lost in a thought that’s moved away as quick as their conversation.

The watch and the minutes and being stuck doing and thinking and not knowing it’s moved onward.

Scheming and planning and hoping and getting bogged down when it comes to action.

Being approximately normal and knowing the gap is vast and the leap there is huge.

I’m no poet. I’m no singer. I’m no artist. I live for the eyes and smiles of three people I love.

Lucozade – change it back (Aspergers)

For as long as I can recall, Lucozade has been a reliable jolt of energy to either get me functioning or keep me functioning.

I’m having a 330ml can right now and I had to check ingredients before buying.

The issue is that the formula has changed with lower sugar ingredients. 

Which is fine for most people without issues, for me, the hit of energy is necessary and it now contains a substance I know I dislike  (Aspartame),  

I find Aspartame sends me a bit funny and I do make a point of avoiding it, so most ‘low calorie’ or ‘diet’ drinks are off the agenda for me.

So I’m back to a mix of Irn-Bru and coffee and praying that at least some  soft drinks will have a decent sugar content in future.

For people with diabetes the point is more serious. 

Diabetes – Lucozade change

Whilst my need is as an energy lift/boost and I don’t think I’m diabetic, it means a change in habits and in what I’d do. 

Meh!

PIP Mandatory Reconsideration. (Aspergers)

So I’ve been refused PIP after writing for a mandatory reconsideration.

I’m told I ‘have no diagnosed cognitive impairment and no significant low mood or anxiety’.

I’m just gutted. I tried and I want no further part in this system.

I really can’t get it. I really don’t understand it and I really just want to hide away and just rot.

My life is shit. I have nothing good. I am skint and am struggling to figure out what to do.

They think I’m not disabled. So I must ask my GP for reassessment as clearly I can’t have aspergers and I must be misdiagnosed or something. 

I must be normal and okay and fine. I feel like I’m a liar. I feel I’m some sort of cheat.

I just want some help somehow. It’s so frustrating and I’m crying typing this. I just need a break.

——–

Friday 28th April

Here’s my original post on my first time refusal 

March refusal of application

I haven’t got better, my finances are still fucked. I’m feeling more lost and helpless and I’m toiling every single day now.

If someone believed me or cared, that’d be nice. 

Being able to drag myself to work isn’t an indicator that nothing is wrong.

I’m not malnourished, but eating shite isn’t an indicator nothing is wrong.

Being capable of driving isn’t an indicator nothing is wrong.

Having a condition and being treated like crap is horrible. Having people being weird in my face all the time isn’t nice either.

I can’t and won’t say I’m suicidal as I love my kids and couldn’t do that to them. Again that’s no indicator nothing is wrong.

I want to have a happier, less stressed life like I see others with ASD diagnosis do have.

PIP could have meant a bit of financial help when I really really need it. It could have helped me reduce my working hours and have less stress or more time with the kids.

In the short term it’d have helped me sort out a mess of debt and breathe easier.

In the short term I could have afforded a holiday, a few days away.

It could have meant a chance for me to afford a night out once a month.

It could long term have allowed me to afford to do a class or an interest.

My hopes are shot. That’s what I get for believing I could get a little help.

Back to worrying, stressing and feeling crap as I stumble on through each day. 

Visible/Invisible (Aspergers)

I get my days where I think I’m part of the crowd, not much different to other people.

Thing is, I don’t see outside of myself and I don’t fully understand how I appear or come across or what I look like, sound like or seem.

It’s difficult as my perception is that I ‘fit in’, maybe I’m more odd than I know.

I have coloured lenses on my glasses and with those, I’m more aware of being different and there are times wearing them is difficult and I’ve had reactions that do upset me. 

I try and not get too focused on them, but if I’m wearing ‘my blues’, I just keep away from people, go around and not be too interactive. 

Before getting my ‘blues’ I used my sunglasses for same purpose, dealing with lights in places and got slightly less of a reaction, but some oddness from people.

I don’t want to be specific but sometimes, just being different is enough to throw people and it’d be lovely not to have a reaction or feel different or odd. 

I think when I became more aware of reactions, it brought my mood lower. I think when I realised my appearance I felt a bit hurt. A bit thrown. Not too many people ask about the lenses on my blues. 

But also, not too many people comment on my ‘otherness’ on a day to day basis. I think of it as an approximation. My masking isn’t always ‘on point’, it’s close to right at times and close to normal at others. 

I have to think eye contact and hand gesture and think slow speech and volume and tone of speech. I need to think rhythm of voice and use of language. 

Dialling it down, if you will. I need sometimes to phase out of things and at other times not to ‘ghost’.

So, I can probably think as I don’t have a stick or a wheelchair that I’m not disabled in that obvious way and that I’m invisible disability or whatever but there again are people with horrible internal conditions that are of course neurotypical. It’s thinking of a scale of issue for me.

I can tick incurable. 

I can tick life long.

I can tick degenerative (a Fixed viewpoint and aging won’t help). 

I can say my quality of life is affected and I can say that it affects my day to day decisions. 

My executive functions are wonky, my communication is wonky and so are my senses in that I hear and see and smell too much. 

My balance is probably a fraction off, it really shows when I ride my bicycle. 

My humour can be off and I can be inappropriate and I can be out of order. 

But, still I don’t qualify as ‘disabled’ as first time around I was refused PIP. (Believe me that hurts)

So, I keep trying and going and hoping something gives me a break. I’m under overwhelming stress from my life and what’s going on. 

I try not to break myself because of it, but my meltdowns this week have thrown me and put me off my usual sort of ‘keep going, don’t break’ mentality.

I know that maybe I don’t look different, or don’t seem disabled. My condition is a difference and if the world was fair, I’d get some adjustments and some thinking space in a lot more situations. I think there’s a chance of better understanding and some amount of leeway for how I am. 

At the same time,I don’t think I should have to feel stigmatised by wearing my blue lenses or to ever feel that I should need a badge or an armband or something to get a seat on the train or be treated normally (nicely or with empathy.)

So I’m Invisible/Visible. Disabled/Able. Problem/Normal. Believed/Doubted.

I didn’t choose to be. Just am.