Autism: When I am Watched

You live your life for you and everyone should respect your choice, please do not feel inadequate and ashamed, for you are not.

I myself eat all my meals with a table spoon, not because I can not use a knife and fork, but because I wish to. If people do not like this, then that is their problem not mine.

In my youth I was always uncomfortable in most social company as I did not have confidence in myself. However, with the passage of age I am much more confident in my expressions and actions.

So I say, believe in yourself and you would be surprised what you can do, if you so wish to do. If you can not do a task or not wish to, unless it is due to your employment, then do not, for it is not your problem, but the problem with others who are not showing you respect and understanding.

Have a good life.


“Didn’t your parents teach you to cut your meat?” they asked as I sat in front of them with a fork and knife in my hands.  I don’t remember, I thought.  Maybe not.  All I knew was that the knife felt awkward in my hands, squeaked across the plate, and wasn’t cutting very well.

fireplace me

They must have taught me, though.  I was eighteen and living with my boyfriend’s parents.  A Hungarian/German family that loved cooking, and loved food.  Being a picky eater with extreme sensitivities to taste, texture, and type of food, plus a strong difficulty eating in front of other people (they always ate together at the table) made it very difficult for me to show them I appreciated what they were doing for me.

After all, I was very much starving before they allowed me to move in with them.  But there were foods I couldn’t…

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Love Languages


Whenever he went out of town – often for camping, visiting or something – even if just for a day, my father would bring us small gifts back to “let us know he was thinking of us.” On Christmas Eve, he would travel out to every open store (as our mother read us books, such as, “Twas the Night Before Christmas”) and buy us last minute gifts for Christmas. As if they hadn’t bought us enough already.

When we traveled with him, he would buy us treats along the way. It was what he did.

My father was a gift giving person.

He also spent a lot of time with us – walking, driving, singing, going camping, visiting amusement parks or playgrounds… When my father wasn’t working or sleeping (he was a shift worker) he was usually doing something with us.

But the gifts… that was his thing.

And had…

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Autism: What About Those Days?

It is good to share and will be of comfort to others. It is yours to do as you feel and any posting will be helpful to all as proof we are not alone.


Perhaps I shouldn’t be writing as often as I do. It has become a compulsion to me – something I must do, even when I don’t want to. I suppose it is a decent exercise – to write every day – that I will learn, and become better at it. At least that is my hope, and the encouragement which I have heard. But then, is it always appropriate that my writing be published?

For I do write every day. I would write every day, even if I didn’t publish it to my blog. I write in my journal. I write letters to myself. I write down plans and inspirations. I do write every day.

I also know that while I like some of what I publish to my blog, there are those days… the ones when I am so anxious, or so distracted, that my thoughts don’t flow properly…

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