At first I thought it was a joke

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kpupg, my darling girl!
I read your post about being angry for the little girl that people thought bad and I experienced the painful detonation of the tearful, raging thundercloud of what passes for emotion in me. When I rode it out and came into the peaceful harbor of it just being over, I wanted to share with you that your scalpel like thoughts just cut through the layers of defenses I have built up and touched the reason for all of MY rage.

I cry with you for the little girl (that was me, too) that heard her name spoken in disdainful terms so long and so often that I go by a different name and even change that one every so many years or so. To hear the disgust in the voices of the people who raised me back when autism was being "not right in the head "and the child with it became a non entity, a burden and liability. My cousins decided it was best if they left me in the woods, my brother tossed me in the lake from a boat, leaving me to sink or swim my way to the shore, my mother watched from the window as I fell out of the swing knocking my breath out, waiting for me to breathe or not, as God dictated.

Obviously at 5 I made my own way out of the woods, following the stream that ran to the river and there to a house,. I swam with all the determination a 7 year old can muster to the lake shore and, lying in the mud under the swing, drug a tortured breath back into my 9 year old body. My 9 year old body that my brother 'gave' to his friends for 'experiments', the night time visits from a beloved uncle, the sufficating pressure of his hand over my mouth and nose as he did his business silently with my parents in the other room.

So yes, dear kpupg, I cry with you. I cry with you.

Merle

PS thank for the respect of typing my name as MErle, (even though it was a typo) that means so much to me.

Inventor,
I humbly beg your pardon for killing your thread.
I never know what is appropriate or not with anything, I apologize.
Merle

Sinsboldly,

Reaching out to others who say they are suffering is never wrong. I score low on compassion, I see, but think I would make it worse. I have been here for a week and no one has told me to stop babbling!

I think your point is the same as mine, no matter what has happened to you, how long and hard the road, you are you, not what happened to you. I like you, when you have a bad taste in your mouth, you spit.

You are a fearless and shameless person who sins boldly. When I was eight my older sister lead me across a creek where she knew the water came to her shoulders, and over my head, I was swept into a deep hole and drowned. The neighbor dove in, carried me to the beach, pumped the water out of my lungs, I was blue, and when I took a breath, and opened my eyes, both my mother and sister did not look happy.

We were the next to last house on a lonely road, the neighbor the last, and when they went to town their house burned. I fear that we are accident prone, our families kill us if they can.

Accident prone, quite probably. Homicidal families, probably not.

I led a physically sheltered life as a child, due to being over-protected from asthma. My parents were quite concerned with my well being. Except of course for those times they'd gag me, and tie me up, and lock me in the attic when company came over. {sarcasm}

Merle, I sent you a pm.

Inventor, please keep babbling. Yours is the most interesting babble I've heard in a vary long time.

Families can be h**l or not. Mine had its problems, to be sure, and still does, but homicidal hatred was not one of them. My heart, such as it is, goes out to all who cannot find comfort in thier families.

"Be a sinner and sin boldly, but more strongly have faith and rejoice in Christ."
--Martin Luther


This is where I get my moniker. It was given to me by a creative writing teacher that was religious, but recognized the wild pagan I am. He observed that I must not realize that I was 'sinning' because I sinned so boldly. He was right; I rarely ken that I am outraging others by my seemingly utter disregard of proprieties.
He realized I was mostly uncivilized (the actual definition of 'pagan', by the way) but recognized the indomitable spirit that dwells within the physical shell other's see as 'me'.

My intellect has informed my heart that your intentions are to comfort that child of long ago and my heart responds with as much warmth and trust as it can muster.
Merle

Inventor sez:
Homicidal families, probably not.

Merle opines:
Well, if you look at it like they did, they would drown an unwanted litter of kittens in a pillowcase, they would shoot a rabid dog, and if the horse broke it's leg. . .

They would have to think the deceased was human before it would be a homicide, right?
Merle

Welcome to WP!

I do hope Inventor posts some more here, I like his eloquence ! !!

Those with competent homicidal families are not here to answer.

Accidents, like poison, and being smothered with a pillow, were seen as "For the best."

Through history, most children who were deformed, crippled, or not right in the head, died in childhood, it was expected, for where would they fit in life?

In my case i think it's that i am a part of an old machine which has been thrown out. Perfect unused part of a machine which has been rendered redundant by newer ones.
I would have been very useful before the camera was invented. I loved drawing, especially portraits and still lives.
I would have been very useful before the printing machine. I loved writing clearly and neatly for hours.

I pick fruit fast and accurately because i have good hand eye connections. I see the fruit and pick it, all in one step almost. I would have been useful before the invention of mechanised harvesters.

I would have been a good hunter-gatherer.

I love walking. It is no longer useful. They invented the car.

I am a remnant of a previous phase of development. It is difficult to see how my redundancy now is likely to change, seeing the way things are going.
I remember feeling suddenly pointless when they brought in computers to the Tax Office of the Inland Revenue. I was no longer supposed to do the calculations; the computer was to do it. I had loved the meticulous calculations of taxation, setting out the elements etc. I enjoyed that part of the work. All that was left afterwards was people stuff. Phone work, bla bla letters asking for info etc. Management. The best bit was taken out of it.
How can i believe that i am part of some beautiful new machine yet to be put together when i actually saw one thing i was useful at taken over by a computer?

Many takes on the same condition.

I was thinking of starting a new thread with a title something like "Feeling guilty about Feeling Lucky?" but Inventor has shown me that I am not unique in feeling lucky. And I only feel guilty about it on rare occasions. Like the times I recall in my youth when I would pray, thanking God for making me so. Still trying to figure out if that was terminal ego or gratitude. But I am grateful that my upbringing was one of benign neglect rather than overt hostility.

ouinon, the great communicator I am not, but I hope you can find the joy in being different. Forget trying to be useful to or in the world, be useful to youself.

Hey, welcome to WP!

Thanks Capriccio,

Only been here a few hours and have had more human interaction than in the past week. Hard to believe huh? Or maybe not

Welcome to WrongPlanet!

this place is perfect for Aspie social interaction. No muss, no fuss, just click past the post or read the whole thing. Answer back and get that rush of connection, don't answer and forget all about it and usually so do they.

You don't have to have anyone walk on your carpet, wash up the coffee cups or feed them your last cookies, either. ( And all the hugs are virtual!)

enjoy!

Merle