Grouchy Pants

Tonight, I relived yet again the sound of a flat, monotone man, reminding me of all the years with him, yes with a roll of the eyes and a cringe. It is past his bedtime and we have a cat outside, in the freezing temps, as he calls for it. When I ask a question or see of any luck, I get the dreaded sound. Like a pout, boo boo, I want my bed, I need my sleep, it is past my bedtime. Life ends at 10:00 pm in our household, that has been since from day one. The cats even have to be in and quiet. Yes, and strangely enough they are, like he has programmed them. Well, so am I programmed basically.

Many women, wives, that I have had the opportunity to share a group for wives of Aspergers spouses, I hear this so often. The look, the voice, nothing but a stare. We are left to manage or figure out things and take care of matters. Knowing I am not alone in this endeavor feels good, as this has only been available to me the past six years. The previous twenty-nine years, I dealt with it, learn to despise and finally to the point of it all making me feel completely crazy. Thank God I had a counselor that pinpointed what was happening and what I was dealing with.

Many do not know about Aspergers or understand. I did not until 2014, which turned on a light in my dark, lonely tunnel I was living in. There is so much to this and the routine of it all, is amazing, especially with mine. Meeting or socializing can only be maintained in short periods and then a shutdown, which is typical in most. Whether it be with me, kids, his parents, company or whoever and I am left holding the conversation or visit, if it is bedtime or a ritual that is set.

So much. So much flooded my mind as I opened the door. Why did I even do that? Closing it, on the grouchy pants outside, he is just that, especially after his bedtime.

Thinking back of when we had kids and those teenage years when boys are just being boys, that did not go over well. Many times, I am sitting with them as their dad appears at the door to remind them to be quiet. I, too, as his wife and their mother was in trouble. I understand respect of being quiet at bedtime but not putting the fear of him on our kids, and me. No.

Try having a newborn and keeping it quiet after 10:00 pm. Not possible. The only thing was to go in the other room and tend to this beautiful child by holding him close to nurse and both of us falling asleep on the couch night after night, for months, if not a year. He did not care. He needed his sleep uninterrupted, just as he is today.

I wonder how he will be when he is older. Actually, I do not want to know. Jokingly, I have told him that if he even gets like his dad, I will put his butt in a nursing home. He thinks I am kidding.

So the grouchy pants of him has now made me grouchy thinking back of all the years I have dealt with this. Oh the stories I could tell. This story is yet to be continued but it repeats itself, day after day.

Here is some information that you or another may find helpful.

https://www.millcreekbehavioralhealth.com/development-disorders/aspergers/symptoms-signs-causes/

Digging Deeper

There are things in life that you may know what you want to do, from education, employment, marriage, family, etc., but also personal desires such as painting, yoga, teach a class or whatever and possibly even writing a book, which is where I am.

All through my life, even from a young girl, I made notes, kept copies of letters I sent out, always writing down book titles along with the name of the book, to jog my memory of a place and time. I did this for the reason that I might need them one day. Now why would I do that without a purpose? I have often wondered if the Lord was preparing me then for now.

Many times my notes and journals through the years kept my sanity, as I questioned myself, did this really happen. As I spoke to my counselor of various situations, I could refer back and read my writings, almost to the point of feeling very emotional, the anger to rise up and wonder how I survived those years. This was my life.

Questioning myself as I write my blog with thoughts of who would want to read my writings. I have tried different ways to write and grow in this area through the years to where I am today, writing here. Just me and sharing a part of me that majority of my friends and family do not even know. Blogs are usually short and limited information but in each one, they are a piece of a puzzle to me and for me to possibly connect with others of same or similar instances, thoughts and feelings.

Last year I made a weekend trip to my hideaway up North. Just me. I needed to make some decisions plus get out of the four walls where I feel stuck.  Unbeknownst to me, a Christian writing conference was advertised on Facebook. No mistake, I was to see this. I signed up, paid and spent many hours over the few days, taking notes and learning how to start, consider, piece all my notes together, etc. A private workshop for me.

I am one that needs organization to get my thoughts together and that is okay. Recently, I ordered a plastic storage bin for colored hanging files to departmentalize everything. The colored files were for me, the colors are pretty. I was all excited to have these items arrive so I could start immediately. Why hadn’t I thought of this early on?

Now I had everything to get started but I could not do anymore than place my colorful hanging files in the clear, plastic storage bin to admire. I have a tendency to procrastinate with one excuse after another, and I did so. The desire was there but there was a dread of digging through all of the notes and memories. Fear of going back through some dark days with depression lurking and eager to choke life out me yet again. I knew this digging would cause some emotions within me that I would rather keep stuffed down, as my former counselor would say that I did. True. I knew I would have all sorts of emotions come up but it was the anger within that scared me.

Just as in a session several weeks ago, my present counselor and I discussed a situation I faced twenty years ago maybe. I have mentioned this before in a session with my former counselor but this time, it affected me. I could not stop the tears and I had anger for days, with my husband the father of our boys, which did in fact scare me. I avoided any and all situations with him, as I was angry. This was something I needed to deal with, within me, as he could care less, not remember what happened and what good would it do really, except make me look like a crazy person. My notes, prove otherwise.

So now, I had to go dig through my notes and read about the incident that caused this emotional outburst, questioning my own mental state. Did this actually happen? Was it a movie that I perhaps viewed? No, it was in real time, in my life.  With this, now I am digging deeper in my years of old notes, filing them by years. I can only do this a bit here and there, and that was in just reading the date and maybe a glance of my notes. Enough to remember what was happening and caused a lot or turmoil within. I had to and still take breaks from this digging in order to process, sometimes days or a week or so.

To even consider a book, of course, the thoughts of who do I think I am. Nobody wants to read my book, I have nothing to say, I am a fool and you know how the negativity comes. In return, to counteract the negativity, then it is just for me and my healing. Knowing, too, there are others that can relate to my story and perhaps provide hope when there is none.

As I was taught in counseling, turn the negative thoughts around, which I am trying to do more so. Why would I have made and kept all of these notes in my possession, if not for a purpose. All through the years, my fear was of a house fire to lose it all but they are all safe today. The iCloud holds a lot of my thoughts in notes and pictures now to do the same. Technology is wonderful. Like the old saying, ‘your head is in the clouds,’ well, actually it is.

Just this past year, I was standing in church holding my hands in front of me praying, Lord put a fire in my hands of your anointing, if I am to write. Nobody knew what I prayed, as I stood there alone. Soon after, two ladies prayed for me, as I wrote in a previous blog. It was when the woman grabbed my hands and said they were like fire of the anointing. How could that not be God? 

Several months ago. I was messaging my sister and sent her a picture of my Crepe Myrtle bush I had bought with her back in late 2018 or early 2019, when visiting. I came home, planted it where I could see it from my bedroom window. After the winter months, it was just a twig. It must have died I thought and I was so disappointed. 31F53C4F-A54B-49C3-B982-0C2E84098C07

As I was messaging my sister about the twig and how I thought it was dead, I even told my husband back in April to just mow over it, it’s dead. Hopelessness. 

Here is my bush that is growing, just from that twig, in April, 2020. I am so excited and this gives me hope and joy within. It is twice as big today.

This is just like life and of our gifts and talents. We think they are nothing and dead. Not good for nothing. Give up.  BUT GOD…. I joked with her that I was going to preach the next day at church. I realized I was preaching to myself.

Even if no book comes from digging deeper in my storage of many notes through the years, perhaps the Lord just wants me to dig deeper within for healing of many hurts, pain and trauma. There is a purpose. One day I will know, but I have to trust Him. For now, I am but a twig.

 

https://writingforyourlife.com/why-does-god-want-me-to-write/