brightrosefox: (Default)
"Imagine being born into a world of bewildering, inescapable sensory overload, like a visitor from a much darker, calmer, quieter planet. Your mother’s eyes: a strobe light. Your father’s voice: a growling jackhammer. That cute little onesie everyone thinks is so soft? Sandpaper with diamond grit. And what about all that cooing and affection? A barrage of chaotic, indecipherable input, a cacophony of raw, unfilterable data.
Just to survive, you’d need to be excellent at detecting any pattern you could find in the frightful and oppressive noise. To stay sane, you’d have to control as much as possible, developing a rigid focus on detail, routine and repetition. Systems in which specific inputs produce predictable outputs would be far more attractive than human beings, with their mystifying and inconsistent demands and their haphazard behavior.
They call it the “intense world” syndrome.
The behavior that results is not due to cognitive deficits—the prevailing view in autism research circles today—but the opposite, they say. Rather than being oblivious, autistic people take in too much and learn too fast. While they may appear bereft of emotion, the Markrams insist they are actually overwhelmed not only by their own emotions, but by the emotions of others."
https://medium.com/matter/70c3d64ff221
brightrosefox: (Default)
'Reborn' by Laura Sava (anotherwanderer.deviantart.com/)
'Mirabella' by Rachel Anderson (www.silverstars.us/‎)

Two forms of my own story character, Asha Clara Night, my strongest, most individual, most personal fiction character.

These paintings. Completely different images that look almost exactly like incarnations of the same character of my own subconscious creation Women who look almost exactly like the dreamself I am becoming in my dreams and visions.

Laura-sava-Reborn

Rachel Anderson Mirabella


She was in my dreams last night and many nights before. I haven't decided exactly who she is yet, but in my dreams her name is Asha, meaning "desire, hope, hopeful; life; alive; she who lives." Which says so much, so so much.

She is another dreamself, not a spirit guardian, but much closer to my Self than my other characters (Alicia, Serena, Ananta: my spirit guardian coping mechanisms for epilepsy, memory loss, insomnia, sleep problems, [Alicia], chronic pain and fatigue, depression, anxiety, physical disabilities [Serena], neurology, neurodivergence, autism, total mind-body connection [Ananta].

Asha seems to represent many internal things about my emotions, my heart and mind, my rhyme and reason, my logic, my science, my creativeness and creativity, my power, my energy, my beauty. If she were to reveal herself as a guardian, she would be for emotional states, creative thoughts, desires, loves, patterns, ideas.
Asha is definitely powerful in a way I always wanted to be since childhood: Fae and and Elemental Mage and Neurodivergent and Autistic Witch and Quantum Magic Scientist and Story Crafter and Shape Shifter and Magic Librarian and Magic Keeper.

Asha seems to represent my deep, obsessive, compulsive wish and desire to be one of the psionic-mage superhumans in my stories, to take over for be when I feel failure and self-loathing and terror and panic. I think Asha may in fact be an actual entity, one who communicates outside instead of simply speaking into my visions, dreams, pain flare withdrawings, anxiety attacks.

All I know is that Asha was in every dream last night and throughout the past several sleeps, long detailed intense dreams, and she quoted Kosh. She spoke in a soprano version of my voice that could sing. She was always here She is always here. She has always been here.
I think she was with me since I was a baby. In different forms, in different species, with different names, in different imaginary beings, in different fictional characters. She was made of fire. She used to be a phoenix, a unicorn, a dragon, a star, a nebula. I know Asha. I know Asha in the way I hope to know myself.

The thing is, Asha has a fully active voice when I am completely conscious, aware, awake, functional, and stable. She didn't completely create herself, but she grew and evolved over my lifetime in her own way as a character in my subconscious. She took ideas I worked with and wove them into her personality, behavior, and mentality. My disabilities are hers. She stayed and changed and grew with me like a permanent piece of my spirit. Asha also represents my fluid sexuality - I often visit her in the place she calls home and we make love, representing my desires for love and orientation.

She lives with Alicia in the Wonderland cottage, but she freely moves about my brain more often. She shapeshifts into elemental energies, she moves around my hippocampus and amygdala and temporal lobes and cingulate gyrus and thalamus and auditory cortex and somatosensory cortex and parital lobe and the back of my brain.
She has altered the Wonderland cottage to be something else entirely, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, two office rooms, a large entertainment living room, a large kitchen, a basement. The outside build would contain concrete, cement, hemp and limestone, bamboo, steel. The glass windows are shatterproof. The doors are hemp-lime and timber. That must say something about my mind's inner workings. Especially since the main reason for hemp being illegal is due to its threat to corporate patentable synthetic fibers and wood and paper product industries, while the medicinal drug potential became subject to false claims and fear mongering alarm campaigns until the original industrial potential became buried under the alarmist anti drug campaigns. Part of me probably knows how powerful this is. Medicine from nature itself and the human brain itself is usually denied and seen as worthless.

Asha represents that part of me that firmly supports the controversial balance of traditional pharmaceutical medicine and nontraditional botanical medicine.
Asha is my activism and advocacy. Asha is the fire that moves my belief in the combination of synthetic drugs and organic drugs. Asha is the phoenix in me that rises after every defeat, every failure, every attack, every oppression, every attack and assault on my truths and faiths.

Throughout many names, faces, back stories, lives, personalities, and individual growths... she has always been Asha Clara Night. And this is how she asked me to look so I could see that there is beauty deep and shining.

I must find and thank the artists for these images, since I found myself taking these pieces of artwork and subconsciously turning them into incarnations of my own fictional character.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151978626835684&l=17dde55bf4

Asha may well be the character in that second novel after all. It won't be this Asha, my Asha; just a version, a more humanized incarnation I can bring out to show the public. This excites me. She could help me write it, just by living in my mind.
brightrosefox: (Default)
So, stuff.
My body and brain have been up and down in normal chronic pain ways, and now that I'm medically on the autism spectrum with Nonverbal Learning Disability, my doctors and therapists can focus on more specific treatments for the sensory and communication issues, and I no longer feel I need to justify why I do so many weird and fucked up things that make people angry. I'm not gonna use any of my disabilities as an excuse, because I find that revolting, but I will merely say, "Look, I'm super neurodiverse and I have issues, so just hang on a minute while I get my brain in order, okay?" I don't think I have ever been neuro-typical.

I've been venting on Facebook more than LiveJournal, which i find backwards, but I have so many friends on Facebook who are immediate and who know exactly how it is. I refuse to leave Livejournal, since it has been my home since late 2001, so I plan on writing here more and more, copying between here and Facebook.

So, I have been in a major depression episode for several weeks now. It has been quiet and lurking, like a huge tar pit, and every so often a creature rises with flashing claws and strikes and I break down and my insides begin screaming. It happened last night, while Adam and I were eating the rabbit stew he had slow-cooked. I randomly, suddenly began sobbing in heaves into a napkin, and Adam placed his hand on the back of my head gently - it's a gesture he does to Mikey to let Mikey know he is there and to guide Mikey in his blindness, and he's been doing it with me ever since we met. Adam began massaging my neck and shoulders, and then I began gasping and rasping "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry..." and Adam asked "Why?" and I gestured violently at my body and rasped, "THIS. I just... I just... I can't. I fucking can't. I can't even eat a whole meal with out..." and I sobbed again and he held me and held me, and I cried about how broken I was and that i was a horrible housewife and how I couldn't do the things he needed me to do sometimes, and he said, "Honey, it's okay. You are so important. You pay our bills, you make the appointments, you keep the house from exploding, you remind me to take of myself. I bring in the money. I may break my back doing it, but you're already broken and it isn't anything you did, and that's okay. It's all okay. Everything is okay. I love you."
We had moved to the couch, and I cried and cried while he held me, and Jupiter came over and sat like a sphinx on us and purred with his entire body and we pet him and scritched him, and the creature in my brain faded.

Adam needed to wake up around five in order to go to his IT/AV shop in Virginia and then to New York for a job overnight. We went upstairs and prepared his luggage and had sex that comforted me and made me happy with the afterglow jokes, and then later, Luna came over in one of her precious rare moments and settled between us on a small pillow to purr us to sleep.

I still have this weird lump in my throat from... so many things. I still need to print out that form that my new psychologist needs for insurance and such, and on Friday, our second appointment, we may try hypnotherapy. I'll tell her about the spectrum thing just so she keeps it in mind. I think we'll get along just find.

I sent back the forms to get Medicare Part B, and once I'm enrolled at the end of the year, I shall enroll in Part C with Aetna, and then things should be cheaper for me. Next week will be the dentist and then the pain physician.

I still need to eat more.

And then... and then, there is this. Found and shown to me by the magnificent [livejournal.com profile] naamah_darling, it is the absolute ultimate expression of what I've been calling The Spear Theory (as opposed to the spoon theory).

Always. Forever. I am my shield and these are my spears. Because spoons can only do so much. The spear theory leaves me scarred and shattered and covered in the blood of my pain monsters. And after I recover and refresh there is a new set of shiny spears waiting to be hurled, broken, stuck in the bodies of my pain monsters, and repeat.
And as I rest and recover, spoons are there to help feed and nourish. But there will always be more spears.
I am a pain warrior. A warrior in an old way.
http://internal-acceptance-movement.tumblr.com/post/61136577036

And Naamah's thoughts:
http://naamah-darling.livejournal.com/633319.html

It is too perfect.

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