Monday, July 27, 2009
If you're happy and you know it...
Friday, July 24, 2009
Dimples and Dreams
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Just a spoon full of sugar
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
I'd thought we'd found a harmony
St. Evodius: Whence, therefore, are evil things done by men, if they are not learned?
St. Augustine: Perhaps it is from this, that man turns himself away from learning, that is, estranges himself from the fact of learning. But whether this or something else be true, this surely is evident—that learning is good, and because it is derived from [the verb] to learn, evil things can not be learned.
Bats in the Belfry
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Pit of Despair
St. Augustine: Perhaps it is from this, that man turns himself away from learning, that is, estranges himself from the fact of learning. But whether this or something else be true, this surely is evident—that learning is good, and because it is derived from [the verb] to learn, evil things can not be learned.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Birds of a feather
Friday, July 17, 2009
In the Doghouse
Friday, July 10, 2009
An Apple a Day
Stephen Wiltshire's memory for details that aid in his being an artistic savant might be partially explained by his autism.
If Derek's blindness and Stephen's autism were taken away, would their quality of life be benefited or harmed? If they would be harmed, would it be ethical to treat them for these conditions? Who decides?
In the deaf community, no treatment was available and an identity of being deaf emerged. One had to accept that this was one's reality and would remain so. In combination with being unjustly connected with insanity or mental deficiencies, those who were deaf could not function within the larger community because the larger community rejected them. It was only through schools like Gaullaudet University that deaf students were empowered to become fully functioning members of society. There, they learned deaf culture among their other studies to learn to be proud of who they were and the great people through history who were deaf, who helped shape a community they could belong to with pride, and their own language--American Sign Language.
With the advent of cochlear implants, controversy arose. Was deafness something needing to be fixed? Was a parent denying a child his heritage if the child was removed from the deaf community by becoming a hearing person? Were those with cochlear implants traitors? Some high schools and colleges began removing ASL from their approved foreign language credits. In some circles, the treatment for deafness led to the deaf community being expected to fully integrate and not maintain a separate culture. Many (most?) in the deaf community did not and rejected any calls that expected them to do so. They said they didn't need or want to be fixed--there was nothing wrong with being deaf.
Following on its heels, autism diagnoses are on the rise. What is widely established as an incurable syndrome that must be accepted as one's reality is now being challenged with people like Jenny McCarthy claiming to have cured her son of autism through intensive therapy.
Did her son have autism? Was it caused by vaccines as she believes? Should she have tried to cure him of it? Are some or all forms of autism curable? Numerous treatment models, adaptations, diets, modified vaccination schedules, and other ways of trying to treat autism have arisen, but enough information isn't available yet for any consensus.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Putting the A in Anonymous
Thanks to that teacher, I know that there's a website where one can print off a cheat sheet that appears to be a coca-cola bottle wrapper and I know that the prefix a- means without, as in amoral, atypical,
So why is my anonymous blog looking rather onymous? Elizabeth and Andrew are chosen names in honor of Eliza and Andrew Johnson whose marriage had some of the traits of my own. I thought it sounded better than calling myself Mrs. FiveEggsIn and my husband Mr. FEI. I briefly considered more heavenly namesakes such as Nicholas and Thérèse, both saints known for their anonymity, but decided that I had a long way to go before I could connect myself to them in such a public way. I figured one of the worst US presidents and his sickly wife were something we could do better than, so Andrew and Elizabeth it was.
Elizabeth, Elspeth, Betsy and Bess,
They all went together to seek a bird's nest.
They found a bird's nest with five eggs in,
They all took one, and left four in.
I hear tea tree oil is good for that...
Instead of wallowing in the extremism of others and allowing it to further drag me down, I decided to do a little exercise about how we, like most people, don't fit the stereotypes. It is like cleaning the mold from the shower grout of my mind without any of the cleaning or the insidious fungi! Hover your mouse over the questions and after a moment the answers will be revealed. See if you can guess where we conform to the stereotypes and where we break the mold.
- Which of us is more likely to spontaneously suggest a change in plans?
- Which of us is more sociable?
- Which of us talks more?
- Which one of us would notice things in the house all being just slightly out of their place?
- Which one of us is more likely to initiate a conversation with a stranger such as a store clerk?
- Which one of us would be happier with a predictable menu of the same foods each week?
- Which one of us would get frustrated if there were too many sounds going at once?
- Which one of us is seen as more approachable?
- Which of us would be more likely to get complaints from a superior about poor communication?
- Which of us would be more likely to say, "I'm sorry."
- Which of us would be more likely to say, "I love you."
- Which one of us would be more likely to offer kisses or cuddling to a sad child?
- Which one of us is owned by a cat?
- Which one of us would be perfectly fine with having dessert for dinner?
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
"But he thinks you're attractive, doesn't he?"
A friend was confiding in me her struggles with body image, compounded by her husband's struggles with purity in his thoughts. She said to me, "I know that's just the way men are wired. Isn't your husband the same?" I hesitated a moment, trying to find a way to be honest while simultaneously meeting her desire for support before deciding there was no way to do both.
"That doesn't happen to be one of his particular struggles. He'd be more likely to notice the keychain a woman was carrying than the skirt she had on." I added a lighthearted laugh in an attempt to keep the conversation casual and moving forward, hoping to convey through my tone of voice and body language that I did understand her concern even if I didn't share the same circumstances.
"But he thinks you're attractive, doesn't he?" she said with some incredulity, apparently more worried about my body image at this point than her own.
"Oh yeah...when he thinks about it."
The conversation quickly trailed off, replaced by superficial banter. I knew that it would have been one of those bonding moments that bring women together had the discussion gone differently and I silently mourned the loss of commonality and friendship. I don't discuss my husband's differences with acquaintances both to respect his request and on principle (I have plenty of weaknesses of my own I wouldn't want him bringing up in casual conversations), but the kinds of conversations women have around me rarely address my marriage's particular struggles anyway. I imagine my friend felt more alone than ever, wondering if she was the only woman concerned about her husband finding her slightly-larger-self attractive at the end of the working day in which he was surrounded by a seemingly endless supply of thin, young women in heels. Since weight isn't something I struggle with, she politely implied I wouldn't have a clue what she was going through and hasn't brought the topic up again. What she didn't know is how much I could sympathize. The feeling of worthlessness, unattractiveness, and competition with "the other" that is created when a woman wants to feel loved in a way she can understand is something I experience regularly even though my husband doesn't have roving eyes.
On any given day, I could walk right in front of my husband buck naked and be completely invisible to him and totally ignored. The few times I hinted at his lack of interest in me or my life, I was told that my husband must be gay, must be having an affair, or must be involved in a gay affair. The marriage counselors we visited had no idea what to do with us. One called my husband an "odd duck." No one could relate.
"The other" I compete with is my husband's latest passion. This week that would mean he'd notice me if I were carrying a box of oh-so-difficult to find .380 bullets but in the past it has been anything from his connections to his family-of-origin to entrepreneurial ideas and anything you could imagine in between (before our marriage, his passion was me which is why he showed so much interest at the time and was able to woo me off my feet), but it has never been another woman (or man, for that matter) that I was romantically competing with. How can I be so sure? I asked him.
In a series of short and direct questions, his answers of no to every one means if he has ever had an affair (which I doubt), it is buried so well that I am not going to discover it. While my husband has a natural skill for answering what was asked and not what was intended, and because of his literal take on words he is adroit at talking in loopholes if he desires (meaning our entire conversation can quickly focus on the implications and definitions of particular words if I don't stay vigilant), he is unlikely to outright lie.
My friend went home and told her husband yet again about her insecurities. He assured her that he thought she was beautiful, hugged and kissed her, held her hand more, spontaneously praised her, and overall spent time and effort showing her his love. The next day, he was back to the demands of a high-pressure work environment and was ignoring her need for frequent flattery for the most part, but she was buoyed for a while and able to communicate her needs and fears effectively. I told my husband about our conversation and how isolated I felt in not being able to relate with other women. He nodded his head and said, "Mmmm..." in agreement, never lifting his eyes from his plate or giving any other indication of concern or support. He didn't touch me all that evening until he leaned over to kiss my forehead to say goodnight--one of the few times our routine includes physical interaction. It was a little underwhelming so I expressed my frustration and desires on how it could have gone differently to his expressionless face. Getting nothing, I said, "I need you to hold me." He happily obliged, wrapped his arm around me, and was snoring in contentment, happy with the perfection that was currently his life as I laid alone in the dark and cried.
Starting Out...
I also need to respect my husband's privacy and his legitimate request that I not put him in uncomfortable or potentially compromising positions by discussing the fact that he has Asperger's with those in our life.
The compromising medium is to start this blog and to hopefully discover the blogs of others who are making similar journeys through it so that I may learn and laugh and grow in love for my husband among them.
Sometimes I appreciate the joys of living with my husband. Loyal, passionate about what interests him, intelligent, slow to anger, usually well-researched, adventurous, practical, patient, curious, and observant, he also has the most adorable dimples and a fire that fills his eyes and knocks me off my feet when he's inspired.
Other times, I feel like we live in different universes and I wonder if I will ever know what goes on inside him, or if there even is anything more than what I see, and I am tempted to despair. While I tend to be intuitive, introspective, communicative, nuanced, and working in a realm of people and perceptions to see the gestalt or the "big picture," my husband is quite the opposite. Add in a house full of people and pets, in-laws worthy of the movies, random forays into new hobbies or pursuits, a shared passion for our faith, and a burned dinner or two and you have our life.
Love, look at the two of us,
Strangers in many ways.
Let’s take a lifetime to say,
“I knew you well . . .”
-The Carpenters