By Way of Explanation 3: The Story Before I was Telling it Here
Parts 1 and 2 were the first two posts, way back in September of '06, describing the screen name and title of the blog. But there's a lot of story that came before that, and I never really found time to type that part of the history.
Given recent events, it might be time to bring this up.
I have never considered myself happiness-eligible.
How does this happen? Sorry if you are grossed out by this but it's that important.
We'll have to go rather a long way back, into the early '70s. Yes, my first three or so years and already I wanted out of this "life" business. Mostly because I couldn't control my own colon. Encopresis, the diagnosis (or at least the easy term hiding the fact). Never has totally cleared up, although thanks to a month of "Caveman Diet" in the summer between 9th and 10th grades I got to the point where I wasn't messing up my life (bad choice of words there, I know) with it. For a while there I had no sensation of what was there and what I was letting through.
This, through sixth grade at one of the larger middle schools in Seattle... think 999 bullies and one me. Suffice it to say that my social skills just weren't there, and I assumed that everyone I met would just know the whole thing and I would be met with absolute ridicule by everything. That my entire purpose to living was to give everyone else someone to make fun of. Of course I didn't want that, but that's what my life was for, near as I could tell. Life wasn't worth it. Things finally came to a head- mine- that spring when I tried to smash a plate glass window with my skull, my first thought after that was, "next time, brick wall." And I was dead serious. Got me packed off to a mental institution that summer, and from there into private schools.
As mentioned, control Down Below came eventually, but the mental scars are with me to this day. My social skills are nil if not worse. I've always been terrified of my own body (not the same way as some religious fundies are, this is very different...) My first assumption upon meeting anyone is that I will be mercilessly teased (especially since my response will be viewed as a reward to the teaser) for things that face it, nobody would know anymore. These fears were likely part of what triggered my collapse at college and set the narrative of failure that I've always had at one level or another. Sometimes it gets to me saying that Me==Failure is the fundamental organizing principle of the entire Universe. Or as I have recounted to Mike copyright1983, "Why should I be afraid of this 'Hell' place when I'm already there just for being me?"
The diagnosis of Asperger's Disorder in 1994 only changed the problem. (For those not aware, I refer to it as "the square root of autism." For those who haven't met me in person, think Mike Early of Texas.) On the other hand, the encopresis may have just given me such a social phobia that I backed into the entire constellation of symptoms for completely different reasons. Or even that there's a common cause (unlikely) or a cross-relation (less unlikely.) Next time I go to the doctor I'm going to ask for a check on my intestinal bacteria, just in case there's something that has no business being there. Early's guess is some Candida strain, but how could it have gotten there? (hm... if it outcompeted the bugs that are supposed to be there, assisting in digestion, then I'm not getting proper absorption, and likely losing fluids through... I can see how it can scramble that, but it still doesn't explain everything, not in a really overarching way...)
This may be extended later. Or continued, depending.
Given recent events, it might be time to bring this up.
I have never considered myself happiness-eligible.
How does this happen? Sorry if you are grossed out by this but it's that important.
We'll have to go rather a long way back, into the early '70s. Yes, my first three or so years and already I wanted out of this "life" business. Mostly because I couldn't control my own colon. Encopresis, the diagnosis (or at least the easy term hiding the fact). Never has totally cleared up, although thanks to a month of "Caveman Diet" in the summer between 9th and 10th grades I got to the point where I wasn't messing up my life (bad choice of words there, I know) with it. For a while there I had no sensation of what was there and what I was letting through.
This, through sixth grade at one of the larger middle schools in Seattle... think 999 bullies and one me. Suffice it to say that my social skills just weren't there, and I assumed that everyone I met would just know the whole thing and I would be met with absolute ridicule by everything. That my entire purpose to living was to give everyone else someone to make fun of. Of course I didn't want that, but that's what my life was for, near as I could tell. Life wasn't worth it. Things finally came to a head- mine- that spring when I tried to smash a plate glass window with my skull, my first thought after that was, "next time, brick wall." And I was dead serious. Got me packed off to a mental institution that summer, and from there into private schools.
As mentioned, control Down Below came eventually, but the mental scars are with me to this day. My social skills are nil if not worse. I've always been terrified of my own body (not the same way as some religious fundies are, this is very different...) My first assumption upon meeting anyone is that I will be mercilessly teased (especially since my response will be viewed as a reward to the teaser) for things that face it, nobody would know anymore. These fears were likely part of what triggered my collapse at college and set the narrative of failure that I've always had at one level or another. Sometimes it gets to me saying that Me==Failure is the fundamental organizing principle of the entire Universe. Or as I have recounted to Mike copyright1983, "Why should I be afraid of this 'Hell' place when I'm already there just for being me?"
The diagnosis of Asperger's Disorder in 1994 only changed the problem. (For those not aware, I refer to it as "the square root of autism." For those who haven't met me in person, think Mike Early of Texas.) On the other hand, the encopresis may have just given me such a social phobia that I backed into the entire constellation of symptoms for completely different reasons. Or even that there's a common cause (unlikely) or a cross-relation (less unlikely.) Next time I go to the doctor I'm going to ask for a check on my intestinal bacteria, just in case there's something that has no business being there. Early's guess is some Candida strain, but how could it have gotten there? (hm... if it outcompeted the bugs that are supposed to be there, assisting in digestion, then I'm not getting proper absorption, and likely losing fluids through... I can see how it can scramble that, but it still doesn't explain everything, not in a really overarching way...)
This may be extended later. Or continued, depending.