Tag: dsm 5
Testing Day 2! Yes, I am Different
Zoom style micro difficult team meeting due to invisible air intruders that can not think but can kill those that do. After over an hour of testing, I was told to prepare for part 2. This for the ethic within to be sure that what was certain is secure according to statistics in a manual of the 5th kind. Spoiler alert at the end of the second test, first day… “do not stop going to ASD group online.” Ahhh! Ok. That is to say that though the testing needs yet another day, that I am already eligible for the label that I already had. To wit, I am Autistic again. Well, not really but due to the DSM 5 spectrum theory which practically eliminated…uh um, integrated the Aspie category into the same spectrum with Autism and PDD which definitely fit me. Both the Aspie and PDD. A long story that is due to my blue genes. Well, maybe not blue but I am genetically modified to think how I look. Different.
Day 2 will be to see what specifiers will be issued and for follow up to redesign the treatment plan for future face to face fun. That is to say counseling on how to be abnormally acceptable to society. Supposedly I am anti-social though not asocial which means not much for society. The “anti” social in my case is that I see society but disagree that it’s norms are for me. So, maybe I am slightly, somewhat, a little bit different. Be that as it may, I still say that laws are like lines that encourage people to color within. I just wonder who designed the lines in the first place. Perhaps the crayons were better designed to color outside the circles and shapes. Perhaps lines were drawn as lazy guides, given by some invisible system, controlled by alien life forms to force everyone to be just like them, whoever they may be. Who says that run on sentences are wrong? Just because of commas, or perhaps just tooo long to keep a thought collected. Why should there be three words for two, too, and to? Why do two of the three have three letters. I like 4 in three as written above. Yes, I am off my meds! Yes, just slightly different. Thanks for asking. The task is to manage without management. This is not advice. I am convinced that I must reconvene the medication management experience expeditiously. I am convinced that each pill has a string. Each string is a line. The lines are what I am supposed to stay in. I am wondering, who drew the lines in the first place? Definitely not the first to ask. However, I won’t know. I must go. I wanted to be clear minded for the test. Then I received a kiss from a manic mindset. Second test part 2 by the professionals is less than a week. I must retreat until then. Until then I have ASD without any lines or specific specifiers. Until then I won’t go outside, not until the inside lines up with the lines on the street. The lines that someone unknown drew who passed the test of day 2 with out any specifiers.
Social/ Emotional Reciprocity Error
Undiagnosed for years due to linguistic semantics that professionals still debate about. We wait around in waiting rooms for eyes to watch for ours. Play this game. Seems insane. Seriously? The symptoms I wrestle with are not found in simple table games and eye contact. I have contacted the pain of strain trying to maintain a straight face. Like fried ice cream, masks cover the mental melt down. The frown is not me, as much as the smile is contrived to fit the scene. Just ask me, just ask how I feel when I leave. Why depression leads the way home from social scenes. Really it’s another semantic due the pedantic gathering of experts with expectations that we are all different. Yet, judged by everyone who is not the same. Drained! Drained from the rain of sounds and lights. Drained from driving down a new street with out stop signs. They Beep! The horn honks a new meaning that green lights means Hurry Up and wait again. Red means rest from the rare radiance of roaring traffic. Yellow! Hmmm. So yellow. They told me, “you speak so well”. I thought of this at the yellow. I waited for the yellow again. It’s not a sin. Unless you ask the men behind me who are in a perpetual hurry to get to the next light. I was also in a hurry, a flurry to get home to sit in the freezer and reframe my face. Turn on the melting pot for stew. Everything is different there. Everyone stops to stare at my MPAs. Too much to hide. Energy seems to be a distant diet that I can no longer afford to consume. A diet that is beyond the capacity of the expert chefs. Much like the criteria for social emotional reciprocal relational fictional responses that I gave. It worked. I am OK. The only question now is why is the ice cream melted in the pot of stew?