The decorations came down today. They went up early due to a visit from the grandchildren very early in December. Kind of sad to take them down but some normalcy is needed. The loom is now back in its normal spot rather than hiding behind the sofa.
So the art work is back on the wall where it lives happily until the Christmas tree 🎄comes out again.
This is graphite and white acrylic on paper. Drawn/painted by me c. 2011. It was a complete break from what I had been doing and came about through working through angst that had started as anxiety because of what I had drawn underneath it.
Ok, so I guess you want to know more now I wrote that!
I had drawn a tree, a Moreton Bay Fig. This particular tree is growing in the Auckland Domain. It’s been there since I was a child. Move on a few years to when I was a young mum to my daughter, then five, and my son, aged two. Friends had collected us and taken us to the Domain. I had just left my first husband and was living in a women’s refuge with my children. My friends kept asking me questions and I ended up having a very public, very loud meltdown. It was horrendous. It was school holidays or a weekend because there were many families there sitting having picnics on the grass. I remember the stares. I was extremely distraught.
And my children witnessed it.
I love trees, especially Moreton Bay Figs so I started to draw one but I was overtaken by anxiety due to aforementioned reason. I threw paint at it, drew into it and became happy with my creation. Happy enough that I can live with it on my wall and don’t think about its past until, like now, I started to write the bit under the image above. (The trees in the image above are no particular species.)
I had no plans to tell you that. It just suddenly came up.
I use to feel embarrassed, humiliated, shameful… etc but I don’t now. I now know I’m autistic and I was pushed much too far at a very stressful and vulnerable point in my life.
Anyway, I’m fine now 🌹🌻🌼❤
It was the village carol service tonight. I find this event very difficult to deal with each year as I cannot tolerate the lights and noise in the church anymore. So I went over and peered through the windows hoping I wouldn’t be seen. It was rather strange behaviour!
So I feel sad.
I took some photos with my phone as the church looks very beautiful. The image quality is poor but I think it gives something worth sharing.
I have a thing about dolls. I still have many of the dolls from my sixties childhood. They are hidden away. I’ve kind of felt ashamed about my doll love affair. It’s childish. I thought people would think me childish. Yes I am childish in many ways, after all, being child-like is an autistic trait. But. The new, no, …the real me… is gradually appearing and taking over and conquering the fears of the person I thought I was.
So, I’m coming out. And, my dolls should come out of the closet too.
I need to find a glass fronted antique style cabinet to display them. This is important as our home has two fires and sooty dust is a fact of life.
A year ago, before my shoulder became fully frozen I was completing a lot of jigsaw puzzles and this was one of them…
This jigsaw helped me re-identify with my authentic doll loving self. As a child my mum encouraged me to play with my dolls. I didn’t know how. But i did love to look at them. I liked collecting them. (During my teenage years I found all my dolls under the house and in the refuse bin. They were rescued and hidden away!)
Wind forward a year later too late November 2017 when I bought this book…
And inside I found the pattern for this doll that I completed last week…
I made her with my handspun yarn and she’s stuffed with fleece, yarn ends and a bit of poly fill.
My dolls are still in the closet. It’s time to get them out.
Yes that was me at lunch time today with Lovely Husband. It was about financial stuff so I’m not going into details. Don’t worry, we are ok. The finance stuff is about what happens if LH dies first. This is so hard for me to write as it’s a fear that crops up everyday in my mind. And, you know, people, especially Brits, don’t like talking about money.
It’s all come down to what I think must be dyscalculia – something a bit like dyslexia but with numbers instead. I’m not diagnosed but as I’ve always struggled with math and talking about figures creates great anxiety as numbers fly around and don’t settle anywhere, it probably is dyscalculia. It does help if it’s visually represented, but only a little.
I read lots of blogs written by Actually Autistics but money isn’t or doesn’t seem to be discussed. I’m not a materialistic person. As long as I have a bit to spend on creativity and in the giving to others via what I create I’m contented. So this is not about being rich or poor.
As you can probably guess LH deals with everything financial and it’s mostly computer based – another terrifying prospect… things are great as long as it’s all working smoothly. Not all Aspie’s/Autie’s are computer geniuses.
So if LH dies first the only money immediately accessible will be that in a physical ‘go to the bank’ bank account. The rest, pensions and stuff is invisible to me. The computer, the temperamental computer, and people the other side of that cloud is like a terrifying forcefield that I can’t ever penetrate. And that’s aside from the grief – ‘that’ which cannot be thought about.
Do you know, I think it’s the thing at the top of the pile that makes me feel both extremely vulnerable and disabled. LH is trying to simplify things but that takes so much time and what if the most horrendous thing was to happen tomorrow. I shall have to depend on family to sort it out for me. The thought of that makes me feel so inadequate and embarrassed.
So maybe that’s enough for the moment. Maybe voicing this much might help. Maybe other autistics reading this struggle too? It would be of some help to know I am not alone.
It’s all in the past
Another new day
I choose to accept who I am.