Depression Mirror

I tossed away the soap but stood on the box to look in the mirror. Too many spots on the glass face but the image was not there. In some sort of serene gaze all I could do was stare at empty air. The mirror began to drip with liquid glass that reflected yesterday’s movement.
This is what it is to feel depressed. Not always the sinister drought of levity but a profound emotional emptiness with the emphasis on nothingness. If this mirror could talk, it would walk away to a place of grace where smiles grow naturally like yellow lilies on a moving blue canvas.
If this mirror could walk it would speak of powder blue roses with yellow stems and a sign made of thorns that says “do not pick.”
The amount of money to purchase honey shows that many have ignored the sign to adorn their pots for moments of decaying life. Life that drips away like water down a mirror after a hot shower on a cold night.
The mirror was so accurately accustomed to conversing with the wall that my image was completely ignored, as per chance I wanted to explore the reference window of reflection. Maybe I am not in the mirror after all. Maybe I am standing before the wall as is the custom.
This is what depression feels like today. The wall paper appears to have been worn by the very light reflecting from the mirror. How peculiar. So busy staring at the wall in the mirror that I missed me. So in like mind the mirror only shows the walls eroding errors and not the beautiful being it once was, or perhaps is. So depression is the reflection of a mirror looking for the light that has long gone. Still I see the wall because of the light in the mirror. I see the mirror. I needed the soap to wash the spots. I will use the soap box instead. One day I hope to see me.

Autistic Adult Content

Adults who are Autistic each are unique if I may keep this simplistic. Simplicity for the sake of brevity. I met a man with Autism who was nothing like me. We had so much in common. It was a joy to witness such individuality. So majestic was the voice like a song in the office of minds. Of course they heard a gut wrenching scream as he melted down like an over worm circuit board. One too many changes for him is my guess. He filled the room with his cry for assistance. Fortunately, I stayed to myself in this chaotic display of academia. My thoughts at best rested upon the fact that this was par for this course. Then I retreated into the seat that was allotted for such abnormalities. He is an Autistic adult. He is so unique. He is nothing like me. We have so much in common.
She is Autistic as well. Different day but same place. She was prime for the meltdown of a life time. She waltz in the office with such a willingness almost to offer the receptionist a kiss. Our eyes shook hands for a brief distant hello. She dashed to her chair as if her name was on it. Immediately she began to stare at the cracks in the floor as of to determine their original form. The circuits were getting worn. Then after a few squeals and a squeak she invited her chair to enter into the conversation she was having with herself. I felt her look my way. I looked back as we had our second conversation in absolute silence. I immediately investigated the cracks on the floor in front of her to ensure they were still ok. They were. Her and I are so radically different. We had so much in common. In a few moments her private life wanted to go public. She was whisked away by the voice down the hall calling her by name. That’s when her clothes no longer felt comfortable. She took them off. I didn’t notice due to the constant screaming. Those who have degrees after their name felt the temperature rising. They noticed me. Told me that many changes were going to happen immediately. Lights and sounds. Men in uniform are coming. I was invited to leave. I obliged.
Home now, as the TV was left on. There is a guy there who is definitely nothing like me. He is definitely an Aspie if you ask me. His thoughts are so sound and even profound. He left me a clue in the shirt. A few too many wrinkles. I see the signs like the stop sign at the end of my street that I often run. Not on purpose of course. It just disappears into my thinking. Most would stop for it anyways. Most would iron out the wrinkles to go on national television. He was not very keen on answering questions outside his expertise. I knew it. That man is so unique. He is definitely nothing like me. We have so much in common.

Focus Frame Drains Dry

Small walk ahead. Small talk avoided. Shift in schedule takes a shift in consciousness to progress. But I digress to the topic of focus. Focus takes an inordinate amount of energy. To refocus takes some hocus pocus and not fewer than a few days to reclaim the train. Therapy session today is why I am always drained. Drained due to trying to maintain focus on topics that disappear without effort. Like cooking to maintain good health. Like those investment ideas to generate wealth. Like that shower seems so far away so not today. Here in lies the conflict. If the brain wants to stick to a topic, not even I can remove it. Not without effort that was for the next several days. So then I sit in the state of deficit for thoughts to return from break. Thinking drains like wine from rusty lanes. Trains of topics without tickets ride by. I scarcely have time to wave bye. When the thoughts of how to energize actively drain. When the thinking itself is the strain. This is where I find it difficult to maintain. This is where I am today. So I walk away from the rusty mind. Hoping for a sip of the sublime at some time up the road.

Tough to focus

Just Breathe (A short breath story)

The huge hallway was initially so wide. Then she entered in from the last office on the left. The bathroom at the end of the way is now guarded by this hulking she devil that’s so gorgeous and pleasantly petite. Eyes immediately dropped with the water weights of wear and shame. The hallways walls silently began to waltz inward towards the guardian of the room for powder. Tom could hear her serene steps grace the over worn carpet like drops of candy sunshine on a sandy beach in the fall. This hall now accents her entire small frame of mind as she spoke… “Hi Tom” as she barely missed the kiss of elbows. Unaware that he didn’t even speak back, Tom hurriedly stumbles into the restroom for a moment to lean upon the wall for support. The whoosh of the flush initiated another mountainous rush of adrenaline. Kip the first shift security guard appears suddenly with a huge smile! “Bet not go in that one for awhile” he says very proudly. Tom attempted to smile but the recent trauma was overtly detectable. “What’s wrong with you Tom? Did you see a ghost in the hallway or somethin?” Followed by another gush of joyful laughter. Tom replies in a minute monotone manner “No, I just felt a little ill is all.”
“Well Tom, just breathe!” said Kip ever so confidently.

“Ummm that’s what I do. That’s what we all do. I have been breathing since birth actually but thanks anyways.”

“No Tom not like you always do but breathe rightly. You see I used to have a whole kip of anxiety like you. I recognize the symptoms. My wife suggested that we see a breathing coach…”

“Ha!” Tom interrupted. “A breathing coach! What pray tell is that.”

“I know the feeling of skipticism as well.”

“Did you say skipticism?” with a smile to big to hide.

“Yes, there always a good way to use Kip, anyways, I was reeling initially but I kipt an open mind. Sure enough only after a few months, not only is my anxiety better, I am much more clever. I sleep better as well. Tom perhaps you should give it a try. What do you have to lose except maybe a few awkward moments from say that pretty lady in this here corner pocket office.”

“Is she coming!?” quipped Tom.

“No, not into the mens room. Relax Tom, just relax. LoL”

“Honestly, I just don’t know how…wait did you just say LoL? Kip no one says that, you can type it in a text or chat or you actually laugh” said Tom trying to fight back a smile.”

“Yeah but you almost did lol, anyways go on.”

“As I was saying, I just can’t relax anymore. The score seems to keep running up and I seem to keep losing out. Office pressure, dating pressure, oh sure, I graduated college only to fail in the office space. This race is out of hand and I can’t stand to keep losing.”

“Then breathe Tom, just breathe. Lesson 1 have you ever tried LSD?”

“Heavens No!”

“Relax Tom it just means light slow and deep. I heard it on a podcast on that metube channel.

“Exactly how I am breathing in this toilet room after your zoom conference on the porcelain porch.”

Kip bursts out in laughter… “ that definitely was a kippy but seriously try this…breathe only in the nostrils…and consciously breathe light, slower, and stomachy”

Tom smiling “I think you mean diaphragmatically”

Nope, I mean just with the belly. Just try it for two weeks and then after that I bet you feel a whole kip better. Pretend that you are always in the bathroom right after a kippy and breathe that way always. All will soon be skippy.

“Ok, sounds harmless, and nothing to lose right…so you say LSD huh?

“Yepper, and watch your anxiety fall away like your sweat leaving your forehead a few minutes ago!”

“Yet, another Kip joke but I can only hope that you are serious about this.”

“Oh I am, it really pays kipidends.”
“That was even close to dividends” says Tom with a chuckle, he continues “Well buckle up, we are going for a ride on the breath. I hope this works as it’s all I have left.”

“Kip up and giver an old school try. Dem Yogis peoples have done this for long time. Those navy diver seal teams also use this type of stuff. Best of all it only cost what you have plenty of…time. Speaking of I need to get back on the grind and secure these here premises. I will be in my office here again right after lunch tomorrow if need more Kipvice. Stall number 2 LoL!”

“Yes, indeed Kip, LOL back at you, and Kip, thank you.”

“For what? I just wanted to help is all.”

Well mostly for just being you. I am actually going to dive in. I have done some research historically but never gave it much thought. I guess now is the time.”

“Well you better start now cause look who is coming down the hall!”

Heartbeat of Anxiety

Heartbeat of Anxiety

All sounds seem well. Synchronization with society in the melody with just a hint of ambiguity. But the deep sound so profound is the stepping of prehistoric fears approaching. Perhaps just a neighbor returning a letter from the carrier but the theme seems so much scarier. This uninvited terror stares up from the frozen shadow. So strange to say hello to a face. A face dripping with thoughts of small talk which present as fierce as a titanosaur. The shoulder of safer shores ignores my heartfelt plea to draw near. This danger of inclement neighbor makes its way with wings of a windstorm. The carrier delivered the letter to the wrong box. Such a horrendous error of traumatic proportions. This face with wrinkles sprinkles a sly smile in order to return the undisclosed contents to its rightful addressee. That’s me. How could he? In such a time as this when unseen phobias fly through the breeze to infect the gut with irritations and misery. This maskless man carries contaminated contents and appropriately approaches with serene steps not fearing what I am thinking. Nor I he, but I me. It’s not the tall task but the small talk that lasts for endless seconds. Why? Because that’s what neighbors do. Just not me. This time he will see. I am confident that this is the last meaningless meeting for me. It’s not me but anxiety that spoke. I heard something that resembled a joke. The icon on his shoulder made a noise like a hyena. I used the smile as a cover to get away. It’s safe now. Maybe next time. Maybe next year. For now, the meteorological reports that the entire earth is calling for more anxious patterns. I hear the footsteps like my heartbeat. It’s near.

Quite the Manic Night.

Quite the Delightful Night! Wow!

No need to medicate as all things seem great! Shhh! I know, just one night. Tonight my soul takes flight in the bliss of a manic kiss. From room to ruminate to the ability to reminisce. This is what the typical day will play for the norm who do not live under storm clouds. Where crowds gather to scatter the thoughts of playful delights. Coherent words like heart rhythms take wings and wade out of sight. Wow!
I wish to keep this like air with a fist. Like yesterday after the wounded wrist. Wow!
Sorrow makes way in just far enough to say “this is how everyone feels everyday.” For me tonight. Where did you put sleep? I asked with sincere opportunity. Sorrow was gone before an answer and without a final greeting. Wow!
My sweet sorrow, why do you tease me and leave me. I wish I knew how to miss you but I bow my head and bid you adieu. At least for one night. The night where I find peace in a state of mind. I hardly recognized the calm winds of the moons dance. I can gaze at the suns shadow without the inner trance. One more glance of this cold night sky before I lie down in serene habit. Wow!
Such beautiful quietness. Dogs are so joyful to bark deep in the night with sounds of protection. The courageous car shines headlights as it crawls on all four legs to the stop sign for a soft sigh. Wow!
How wonderful the smell fall leaves that fell from a breeze a week ago. Look at all of this! Is this what I miss? Is this where I live?
No, but yeah! I live here but only for a night. The night that depression took a day off. Wow! I just might fully engage and even write. With no idea what to say, I decline the pen and pad and decided just to feel glad. No writing for me tonight! Just another Wow and call it a night of unique delight.
I must go for now. History just texted experience and offered me a group chat. Strong recommendations to open the Sunday square and swallow the contents. Somehow I know they are right. I know I have been here. Still, something else just feels right. Sunday pills, I ask and say please, just one more night.

Testing 1-2-3 Experts Beware!

Scheduled for yet another test. I guess this is the best way to find the divergence. Common sense says that this is getting out of hand. Common hints portrays this is in the plan. One more test just for assurance. Perhaps the test givers are seeking to see if they have OCD. Perhaps this has nothing to do with me. Perhaps this is just to test the test itself. Needless to say that I conveniently agreed to such rigorous rhetoric out of sheer curiosity. Personally I have already taken the aspire to be an aspie tests nearly ten times. Fortunately the sight saved me time by averaging the scores in each time. How very clever. I endeavor to take it again when the mood swings in that direction. So I am not complaining about yet another screening about this ever looming label that haunts me.
This I will say in defense of the play of testing, I am more than a little frustrated with the style of questions. “You do not like to eat in crowded restaurants alone” type of double negative traps. Wait, no I do not, so I agree…wait I disagree…No, I don’t but what do I agree to!?!
In lieu of this recent debacle I propose this:

Dear Test Creators,

Just ask me what you want to know! Thanks!

Honestly the asking double negative questions acts like a sedative on my mind. Spending more time on the question than the answer. Seems silly to have a college degree but get confused on what a simple test is asking me. Also, why such specific questions? Seriously! Sure, I love to watch slow running water. But what if I didn’t!? I also like to watch this candle flame shape shift in the wind. Why is that not on there? What if I did not like slow water but fast!? Am I not an aspie because of this ultra special, very specific question? You only have 50 or so questions to determine my label, so please make the questions more general. Yes, I did love train sets as a kid but that is beside the point. I also loved race tracks! What if my dad didn’t work for a rail company? What if I didn’t live on a street where I cloud run outside after every rain storm to watch the water run down the street!? Then I guess I would not be nuero-diverse. I would be a very untypical type of character that buys rib cord blankets just for the feel. Hey! Put that on the next test! Why not? Then I would not have been missed. I would not have been misdiagnosed. I would have been found so much sooner and realized that this abnormality is actually normal.

Ok, sure, I will try to create a test myself. No need to complain without offering to obtain some sort of solution. Sure, I will create a prototype of…let’s say…10 questions. Then you experts can intuitively go from there. Of course this is not to be expected anytime soon. This missive has consumed an incalculable amount of energy already. In conclusion, make a new test. Ask only what is necessary for general consensus. Keep the questions simple and positive, no need to try and trick the tester. If you need to spot a fake, then take time to get to know them. It’s better to counsel 1 malingerer due to a simple test than miss 1 Nuevo-diverse because of tricky, extraordinarily specific, ultra long, not negative, test questions!

Yesterday Is Tomorrow

Change is a must when not to change is the enemy of better days. Yesterday stares at the future wondering what could be. What should be. Trust that the process out of this mess is, as far as I can guess, truly necessary. It’s scary how many are growing stagnant. Older but not wiser but any means. The seasons seem to predict that constant effects are needed to promote new causes. Just because I feel safe in misery does not mean the risk outweighs the means. The committee speaks in community forums about scores of individuals on disability doing nothing.
Nothing!
Truly the process to help process this mess is better than this. Seriously! No, I am just being facetious but with a word full of tongue in cheek. Let’s speak as those who are in the know. We know that yesterday is not gone. We know tomorrow is already here. We know that if anyone is reluctant to change that it is all the same. I can predict the future. It looks just like yesterday without any change.

The Changes of Change

like a deer waiting for the fall

Off to a mountain type rocky start to the finish of a play. Playing with vibrations that transport swifter than an all terrain vehicle. Getting back to normal is a fallacy for the insecurities of fall leaves that ride the winds. They never see the tree again from the same view, only a few may stay awake long enough to notice anyways.
Why are such unmoving, but living to give by the sea type trees so bountiful? They seem to play every time a breeze visits. So stable. So able to just be. Alive and unmotivated to move beyond what the roots authorize. No surprise that they last past the blast of the winds. This tree that my little i does see has been around to see more than me. Perchance, just a glance and he has seen those who made me and escorted me into the scene to breathe. Same chance that once only this type survives, a time when this very tree will see those who read from me. Those from eternity that earth is yet to see. The deer pants and does a dance for the fall of minds. Hunted like a prey. Sought after like for play. Life and death in the tip of the arrow. Buckets of bullets pierced the winds, vibrating the leaves as the tree shook with pain, while the watcher took aim. Cheers! Another death. Someone earned a trophy for the wall case. More leaves fell. The water grew silent in view of the violent vibration of blood on the ground seeping towards the roots of the trees. Tonight we eat. Tonight we sleep. We sleep with the leaves that fell last fall. We eat with the deer that fell last night. We dream of the trees that witnessed the blood. Let me be like a tree. Let me be like a deer. Let my mind rest from the vibrant run of the vehicle that crosses all terrains.