I’m currently in that “period can start any minute” limbo and it’s come with a (sarcasm) absolutely delightful helping of brain fog (/sarcasm).
I could start it in ten minutes or in ten more days.
My emotions are starting to get wilder and my sensory issues are through the roof. I’m jumping at innocuous sounds like hearing my parents cough or Monroe (cat) scrambling by in a full on poofy-tail hyper kitty run.
A little bit ago, I had an explosive meltdown because a tag in a pair of slippers made me feel like I had a splinter in my heel. My body decided pulling that slipper off and hurling it at the wall solved the problem. I used my ‘meltdown recovery’ energy up explaining the bang to my dad because, typical dad, he wouldn’t believe my truthful explanation with what language I could pull together at the time. Instead of calming down, I started building up into a slow burn meltdown. This is why I need time to recover after explosive meltdowns.
Dad said I need to stop being so pathetic and handle my problems like a “normal person” instead of a baby. I told him I wasn’t a ‘normal person’ and he’s had 36 years to figure that out. He said I was sassing him and a smartass. I spat back that my ass is Einstein and it would’ve been funny if I wasn’t using whatever words I could get my mouth to say when I was losing speech. I was actually trying to say ‘my ass went to school’ and the Einstein thing came out instead. (I think it was the association my brain made with smart = Albert Einstein.)
Dad yelled at me and tipped me into another meltdown. I started crying– more like loudly bawling– and mom screamed at dad to leave me alone. He did, but not before giving me the disapproving look he always gives me when I’m not living up to his constantly changing and esoteric expectations of “normal”.
I cried for 45 minutes after he left my room. -_-; That was meltdown number 2.
I *just* now calmed down enough to finally cut the tag out of the slipper. All that bullshit for something that took 5 seconds to accomplish.
Being autistic isn’t all glittery sunshine and rainbow unicorn farts…sometimes it’s rage and tears. Key word: sometimes. Sometimes is not all the time.
I’m okay, just tired. I recognized dad’s behavior for what it is and I know the way he treated me wasn’t my fault. I’ve stopped shrinking when he tries to cross boundaries I set up– I’ve gotten brave enough to jump up like the lion my zodiac says I am (Leo) and defend them. I hope other people dealing with emotional abuse find that strength, too.
Btw, it’s totally okay to think “My ass is Einstein!” is funny and it’s okay to laugh. I’m starting to giggle about it a little bit as I type this because in writing it’s so much more ridiculous than hearing myself screech it.