Friday, September 11, 2020


 I know I am naive. The awareness is there. But I can't help but trust everyone and nearly everything that is said. It's taken years for me to learn to take a second glance and realize the satire or sarcasm or lies.

I don't mind it though. So what if this makes me a gullible optimist. Life is sunnier this way.

It has gotten me into bad situations though. A promise of friendship that tried to turn sexual but I was lucky enough to escape. College was a real eye opener for me. High school bullies that acted like friends only to tease me. I knew what they were doing, it was just easier to play along. Playing along was my go to coping mechanism. But not anymore.

I used to have a roommate. It was a friend that I truly cared about who hit a rough patch. I understood, I hit a very similar rough patch which lead to me dropping out of college. I only survived better than he did because I had J to lean on, my friend had isolated himself and had no one. 

But then his rough patch lasted for years, and he refused to do anything to help himself. Offers from us and his own family fell on deaf ears.

And then the mind games started. I don't know at what point he turned his anger and resentment on me but it was as soon as a year in. He lived with us for four years and during that time he slammed furniture and doors, screamed at us and the dogs, and stole my thoughts. If I started a conversation topic or suggested a better, more efficient way to do something, a week or so later he would turn around and say the exact thing I suggested but state it as his own idea. It really freaked me out but I was so scared of him I just would freeze and smile and nod because so what? As long as he was doing the more efficient thing, what does it matter if he thought he had a good idea?

But he had no original ideas and I think he really resented me for being successful in coping with life. He made idle threats but the fear I had when he was around kept growing.

He didn't pay rent, or food, or alcohol, or basic supplies like soap. I provided everything. All he had to do was wash the dishes and occasionally look after the dogs. Not even picking up poop, merely just letting them in and out. For four years. There was no end in sight. And his temper tantrums got worse and worse. Till one day he stopped apologizing.

He broke a rule that he had to agree to when he moved in. Don't change the environment of the shared space. He could do whatever he wanted in his room and bathroom, just not the shared space. I learned early on that I need total control of my environment and my lovely J didn't care so it works for us. But the roommate made a change, it triggered a meltdown for me. I apologized and he chose not to apologize but had the audacity to tell me not to have meltdowns near him. In my own house. That he doesn't contribute to, that he broke a rule in, that I asked him to leave the shared space during said meltdown. He walked into the shared space and screamed at me. Then had the audacity to blame me for him screaming.

It was at that point that the spell broke. This person was my friend but I was not his friend. I was just an ATM to him. It broke my heart. I had never been so betrayed before. He had broken promises to me, but they were tiny. He promised he wouldn't complain about a specific food item, and then he kept complaining about it. I didn't think it was legit that he didn't think of me as a friend. But after that incident it was clear. I was an inconvenience for him, but he didn't want to change his life.

He left the house finally. And my anxiety, migraines, stress levels, even shitty sleep got instantly better. I was internalizing his drunken screaming so much and I was playing along with his mind games so much and it was crushing my mental health.

A week later I had a nightmare. In it, a terrible event happened to him and he was once again forced to come live with us. I spent the rest of the dream trying to kill myself.I Inever truly realized just how scared of him I had become until that nightmare. 

But we have peace now.

My house is once again my safe space. My husband and my dogs are calm and happy. I thrive in taking care of people, but I have learned my limits. My mental health is now a priority for me.

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

My Bangs / Those Hair Dangles

 I have worn my hair in the same way technically since elementary school. And by that I mean, I've had a few hair styles, lengths, but I always have bangs, and since middle school hair framing the front of my face. 

I remember being very difficult as a child whenever I was forced to get my hair cut because I would flip my shit if they cut my bangs wrong or didn't frame my face. No matter how many times I told them just my long hair DO NOT TOUCH my bangs they. always. fucking. touched. my. bangs. It's like no one cares what a child says if they disagree with the child. I didn't have enough words or understanding to be able to fully articulate why, just that they always cut them wrong and they were wrong and it was BAD. Out of sheer frustration and anger, I studied very carefully the one hairstylist that didn't piss me off, and learned how she cut my bangs. I bought my own hair scissors and have been doing the front part of my hair ever since. I don't get my hair cut professionally much anymore, maybe once every few years to take care of split ends but I take very good care of my hair. I dye my hair too much not to have learned how to keep it soft and healthy. 

The reason I need, NEED, my bangs is: I don't have a face.

I don't know what my face looks like. I've been trying for years to explain this but this is as best as I can do. I have partial face blindness. I have a really hard time recognizing people. After years of regularly seeing someone I can recognize them, and after a really long time of knowing them, I can hold an image of their face in my mind in memory. But I can never do my own. I just, don't have a face. I look in the mirror and I see a shape I am used to but once I leave the mirror I cannot hold that image. I know my hair though, and that familiar shape of hair mixed with a surprise of color is how I manage to get rid of the whooshy feeling when I look into a mirror. If I wear a headband and push all my hair back though, like for wearing a face mask, the whooshy feeling is there, at the edges of my thoughts. Luckily face masks are only for ten minutes and you don't need a mirror after application. But pictures of friends or selfies, I don't always recognize me. I usually get by this by remembering context and the other people in the photo, but mainly I can find me by my hair. My hair style is very unique from everyone around me, this has worked for years. 

My poor husband puts up with me so much. Because one of the Rules is: he has to give me multiple warnings when he gets a hair cut or shaves his head or changes his beard. Multiple warnings. He's come home from a haircut without proper warning and I've had a full on meltdown/panic attack each time. It terrifies the ever living shit out of me. I don't know why. Like, I know it's him because who else would be this tall man walking out of the garage but it's wrong. And wrong is bad and scary and it is no good. 

I had a rude roommate who loved to torture me. He would shave his head or beard without warning then walk around the living room a bunch to show it off because he knew it would freak me out because of the previous panic attacks. He'd go out of his way to make us see the new haircut. And I just had to stand there and silently take it or flee to my bedroom. If you ever criticized him or explain something to him he would insult you and then go loudly throw up a bunch in the bathroom. It was a very toxic situation that I am glad to be free of. 

So this is the best I can explain as to why I wear my bangs this way. I know it's confused/bothered people for years. I love my mom for defending me and just letting me be. This is going to be a common theme. Why it took so long to recognize the 'tism, because at home I was allowed to be. And it was really nice. 

Monday, August 10, 2020


 When I get really really really sad, I lose my words. This has happened all of my life. 

It's like a tar has attached itself to my jaw. I am unable to open my mouth. My thoughts continue, lots of sentences I want to say but I just don't. I'm not quite sure how to describe it. I can make noises if I push myself quite hard but, it makes me hurt inside when I do. 

It's never been a problem growing up, my family was wonderful. I was never pushed to talk, maybe it was a mix of my mom being just as depressed as I was, or me being known as 'quiet', but I don't think they even know. I was always allowed just to escape to my room or the office. 

During school it was an issue because kids and especially teachers, they can be really mean. When forced to speak I would echo someone else's words, usually a TV show. But these echoed words were just echos and not necessarily my thoughts. Sometimes I've said things that I actually completely disagree with. These incidents haunt me. But, the nice part about being an adult is that I have absolutely no contact with anyone from my past so it is easy to bury these memories. 

Work is actually a non-issue regarding this. I work for a company that is based on the internet so most of my communications are done via instant messenger. 

It happens a lot less now that I am older, I can recognize the taste of depression and work around it. My husband is the greatest person. He'll let me not speak, he'll let me make a noise or point, or use the limited sign language we know. (We have a goal to learn ASL). Other times, he recognizes when I am extremely sad and in my own way. Like, I can get fixated on one thought over and over and he can help un-stick the gears and move me to the next thought. Usually this is done by being silly, laying on the floor with me, tickles, or our ridiculous arguments.

Side note: ridiculous arguments are a good thing. Our relationship was founded on him being the only person that could keep up with me when arguing about silly things. I love logic, and thinking logically, and he can be so illogical and it makes both of us jump through hoops trying to win. It is utterly fabulous. 

Another side note: sometime I can text, sometimes I cannot. It can be really overwhelming to try and translate my thoughts into words. I think in pictures. 

I used to absolutely hate this about myself. I thought I was broken and worthless. I tried to hide it but that only made the problem worse. I don't mind it so much anymore. Now that I don't fight it, it actually really helps during the sad times. I'm not quite sure how to explain why, or what it does, but maybe one day I will. It just feels nicer to not talk than it does to force me to talk. 

Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Something different! Again!

I've started and stopped blogging every few years or so here, and with each iteration I've changed the title. I like thinking back on these titles and realizing they summed up different phases of my life. 

The Ambiguous Anajo - An emotionally shut down teenager who was confused on why she didn't fit in with the rest of the world

The Animated Anajo - A young adult who found love and started to carve out her own place

Well, I can only remember those two. But, new phase, new title. 

This new title, it is just as significant as my previous titles, but a it has an extremely different emotional weight to it. And this new phase/direction, will have an extremely different emotional weight to it. 

There are words and thoughts that I have learned to never say out loud to people. But! That was because I thought I was wrong or broken and for the past 29 years I've been trying to hide the fact that I was broken. Now I know though. 

I am not broken. In fact, eighteen side commas later, I am incredibly average! In about the eight months since I started researching and 'embracing' this, I've seen complete strangers list out every single one of my 'bad thoughts' and my 'bad movements', and other complete strangers comment about their own. 

You hear about 'the wonders of the internet' and how good it is at connecting people. I've never been good at connecting to people. I had one best friend growing up, and as an adult I have less than ten people that I can share anything with. Honestly I never expected it to be so high, I am quite proud of myself. But, finding these strangers who share these weirdest aspects of my life, it's a feeling I've never felt before. I am not great at describing my feelings other than good, bad, angry, sad, happy. But this is one of those happy feelings with a hint of sad and a dash of anger. 

I am not broken. 

I am autistic.

Thursday, December 31, 2015

The Office!!

I took some time off work and finally redid the office in my house! I have had tan walls since I was 18, moving from apartment to apartment, but now I have a house... Now I finally have freedom from tan!!

The office had become a dumping ground for our random shit and place to hide shit when people come over.


Random shit, notice how it is easy to step over, therefore easy to ignore.

My desk on the left, his on the right. Notice the printer is on those rickety wire shelves.
Printing stuff was an interesting process.

The closet. Don't judge me.

Ugh, boring ceiling!

The ceiling fan - surprisingly awesome!

 Doing the things!

Taping and cleaning

Clearing stuff out!

Starting painting!

Ceiling is now black! We've got glow in the dark planets with the sun in the middle.

 ...I couldn't help myself...


Going in sections around the walls. Top layer is black.

Second layer! Two parts black one part blue.

Third layer! Two parts blue one part black.

Wall!! I am not too good at blending but eh

Hard to convey but the black parts sparkle!
The aftermath



Moon clock! It glows in the dark!


Wall shot!


(Wednesday was mostly going through shit and throwing it away and/or donating it)

It screws into the wall! Whaaat!
Ignore the baseboard. But now I know how to tape so shut up. 

FJ's Desk! And what is that over there?

Oh yes, look at that closet!

My desk!

Fancy adult shelf, because I adult sometimes.

End result!

Yes we have recliners, get over it.


And now, relax-time!