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…

PIP – a statistic to them (Autism)

Sir Henry Brooke blog

I found this breathtaking, basically I’m a Key Performance Indicator for the Department of Work and Pensions. 

As for Personal Independence Payments the KPI is for 80% rejection at Mandatory Reconsideration.

This makes the stress that I had with completing original form and the stress of then being rejected and the stress of them the interview by a healthcare professional, essentially just a management measure by the DWP.

A target, a figure, a statistic. 

Whilst, as a mug, I worried.

No compliance with the intention of the Law creating PIP, no compliance with people’s medical conditions and a deliberate targeting of rejection as a means to limit the benefits paid and numbers of claims made.

I’m a pawn in their systems until I appeal to the court’s service.

Anxiety, Worry and Stress are pretty much my condition. I’m also bound by rules and routines and I’m not brilliant verbally.

I felt like I was hit like a stone in the stomach every time that I was rejected at PIP. 

Being autistic, I don’t lie, so not being believed really isn’t nice and it’s also frustrating and it sets off anxiety etc, etc.

If the sole purpose of the system is to deny and spin out until the Courts Service appeal stage, then more people need to know this.

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!