[2016 Note: I stopped writing on my blogs when I lost my husband. Since then I’ve lost all of my pets, my niece, many friends and some family. I would start to write and feel overwhelmed.

I promised myself I’d start blogging again and realized I needed to update the bio page. I’m exhausted just from deleting all of the descriptors that no longer apply. I took a screenshot of the old bio, but for those of you who asked me to get back to blogging, please be patient.

I’m figuring out who I am now that my self identity has been pared back rather brutally this year. The things I know to still be true about me aren’t all nice and easy to live with, but are a comfort since they can’t be taken from me.]

I’m a writer.

I’m a Buddhist who practices folk magic.

I have a best friend. She’s an extrovert who gets socializing and people in ways I totally don’t. She’s a joy and blessing in my life I never realized I was missing until she arrived.

I’m autistic. I decided to admit this openly this year and have gotten the expected, “But you don’t seem autistic to me,” responses. It’s called “camouflaging”. I learned to pass as “the eccentric relative” and “my weird friend” and suffered severe depression due to social exhaustion from trying to be as normal as I could be.

Facial expressions are difficult for me, though I can often logic out body language and tone of voice to get clues to the person’s emotional state. I have poured over things like cartoon tutorials to learn expression patterns and emotional resources for writers like “The Emotional Thesaurus”, many of which offer descriptions of how neurotypical people demonstrate their emotions in ways other than their facial expression.

I love to touch things. Textures are very strong in my daily experience. A texture can make or break my moment. A room of entirely white items, each with a different texture, is an adventure.

I take things literally, but am fascinated by word play and puns. I get very focused on details to the point where I forget the overall idea in favor of fixing the detail. I’m often not sure when it’s my turn to talk in a discussion and will often just shush rather than do it wrong unless it’s a subject I love, in which case I’ll often not know when to shut up about it.

I can’t always tell when people are bored with the topic around me. This also makes it where people who like to talk over other people and are somehow able to juggle all the conversation lines at once irritate me to the point where I’ll avoid spending time with them. It’s too difficult for me.

Loud noises, really heavy bass, multiple people trying to talk to me at once: these are things that become painful and bring on migraines. If I’m already in a social situation when they happen, I’ll usually hide somewhere like the bathroom or a room with just one or two people in it until I calm down.

My dearest nonhuman friend is the tall maple in my backyard. It’s watched over me since we moved here. I also have guardian cypress trees who watch over my home. They provide a touch of privacy on one side of our yard as well as shelter from the sun in the summer.

I have a big family. I get a little overwhelmed at gift-inclusive gatherings like birthday parties and Christmas due to the emotional pressures they include. Christmas is much easier since it’s usually just family instead of strangers with whom I have nothing in common, but can be quite chaotic when unorganized, rushed and loud.


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