Looking back at genetics and mental illness in my family paints a harrowing picture. I don't think I would have chosen to have children if i would've understood the genetic legacy I was passing on to them. We never talked about mental illness in our family. When my father was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, my mother told us we were never to speak ( Read more... )

I can remember being very small, and living in a yellow house with a brown roof. The walls of my bedroom too, were bright and sunny. The living room furniture was colonial, the couch velvety and covered in various country scenes. I could stare at it for hours, making up stories to myself about the tiny people in their carriages and barns and ( Read more... )

Every once in a while, I dream about being able to hold a regular 9-to-5 type job. Where I would be able to make a meaningful income, and contribute to our household funds. Maybe something has changed since the last time I tried - I'm diagnosed now, I know more about aspergers and ptsd and I have various coping mechanisms that I didn't have when I ( Read more... )

One of my goals for this year (and I know the year's half over, but it's been a while in the planning) is to start a group at our library for folks on the autism spectrum and those who love them (family members, friends, etc). It wouldn't be a parent-with-autism vent group as so often happens with these things, but more focused toward learning more ( Read more... )

At various points in my life, by various people - I have been called childish. I can see where this comes from - I am 44 years old and autistic, and I still enjoy a lot of things that are considered childish things. I color and paint. I like stickers. I enjoy blowing bubbles off my balcony or while on a walk on a windy day. I enjoy putting things ( Read more... )