Somewhere randomly, something went wrong. Whether it was back in the Garden of Eden, or if it was at the point of the first tantrum for not getting what I wanted. Whenever it was, something went wrong. Something made it into my personality, so that I could not in anyway, possibly be perfect. This is not supposed to be a design flaw, but a chance to redeem ourselves in our own lives, and how we interact and react with others.
How does this make our lives easier? Surely everything would be easier for everyone if we were all perfect?
Perfection is something we can always strive for, but rarely achieve.
Being me is a rather hard. I'm a perfectionist, so that my friendships stay together. I get worried and paranoid that I'm going to hurt someone by what I say or do. Or annoy someone by a passing comment, or by something that I do different to them. It's a lot to keep up with. I don't make stable relationships easily, and normally it's with people who are REAL. As in, the one's that make mistakes, and are open about it. The one's that live their lives not giving two hoots about what other people think they are doing. My problem is, I seem to find everyone else shallow.
I've been wondering about aspergers in women. There was an online test where I was in the mid range for having aspergers. The test asked you questions about social situations, and how you understood things and up to 22 was normal, from 23 to 31 was slightly higher than average autistic traits, and 32 and above was showing a high degree of autistic traits. I had 30. Yeah. Go me.
But seriously, I had been suspecting this for years. My friend has said I cannot have it, because I'm nothing like her boys and husband. To be honest, how would a female with Aspergers be different to a male? It's so darn hard to recognise! There are so many things that a female does differently to men. But in all honesty, I feel I just want an excuse to put down the fact that I am so different to anyone else. My biological father is weird, and unsociable. not because he doesn't try, but he doesn't understand that he is so arrogant in what he says. He doesn't understand why what is funny to him isn't funny to anyone else.
My family have always thought I was weird. I didn't fit into their social group, I rarely opened up how I felt or expressed my opinion. I was always going to be wrong anyway. I can still remember when for my 15th birthday, my mother asked me what colour lamp I wanted for my birthday. It was a joke. Everyone in my family knew that I was orange everything. Orange t-shirts, pencil cases, wall paint, etc. So, whilst standing in the middle of Target, my mother is looking at me, jokingly waiting for me to say "Orange", when I turn around and say "Blue". I have NEVER lived that one down. From then on, my mother would randomly think about this very moment, and would on-the-spot turn to me, smack me over the back of the head and comment, "You got the blue one". From then on, I made my own choices. If I was going to get smacked over the back of the head for that decisions, I may as well made the decisions that I want to make, and deal with it.
From making my own decisions, I developed my own taste. I became picky about my clothes, and the colours I like. I hate red and lilac. I refused to wear them, buy pencil cases with those colours on them, lunch boxes, you name it. I think the least used coloured markers out of my connector pen collection are both the lilac and the plain red. Who knew that one little change of mind would lead to such a picky person to buy gifts for?
When buying me a gift, one should know that I buy things for practicality. I don't generally buy someone else an ornament or other, because it has no obvious use. It's just not practical! So as much as it's annoying that I buy boring things, like facial scrub pads in a new brand that I love, or a spiral notebook with your name etched on the front with it's intent labelled underneath, or even a set of headphones that are wireless but ugly, it's because they are useful, and I don't think you'd ever buy it for yourself. In terms of a gift for me, money will suffice, because I'm always after bookcases, I'm always after new notebooks, hairties and candles that smell like vanilla. I love getting new things that I want, or need. It makes me feel like even though I can't buy everything that I want, I can survive on the little necessities that are pretty. But even then you may never know what is right...
My mother still gets notebooks and pens for my presents. Although, now that we are not necessarily speaking, I get red ones. I wonder if I am supposed to be happy with the effort, when I know full well that the media pouch pocket from Smiggle with her much-loved owls on the front is a way better gift that she had attempted for the same Christmas? Does that mean that I should stop trying too? Seriously, I'd prefer the $10 that it would have cost to buy the red notebook and it's pen. Even if it was $5!
If a mother is willing to put the effort into a relationship with her daughter, does that show that all things lead home? Or does it live much to be desired?
