Tag: Frustration

Muffled Screams

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Holy crap on a cracker, I haven’t done this in a very long time. And perhaps it would be a good idea to reinstate this practice, whenever I’m about ready to explode, like right now. Where is the next available pillow for me to scream into?
Okay. Deep breaths. One thing after the other…
I just started cooking, because my mom is not feeling well and wanted to relax on the couch for a while. But she is not happy unless she can criticize me once per day. She just can’t help herself. It took less than 10 minutes, for her to come into the kitchen to “check up on me and to see what I’m doing”. It’s always the same, and it riles me up to no end.

…”Don’t you want to do this first….”
…”I would have done it like this…”
…”Why don’t you try it like this, it’ll be better/easier…”
…”Why don’t you use this instead…”

Oh my days! Just quit micromanaging me! I’m not cooking for the first time ever today. Gawd.
Does she think that I’m incapable of doing anything without her supervision or guidance? At the same time she wonders, why I’m so hard on myself, always aiming for perfection – and failing miserably, of course. Thinking back to my years in America, I miss my independence and my freedom. No one told me anything, it was up to me. The good, the bad, all of it.
Yaaahhhh, I know. She is elderly, I should have patience with her and overlook moments like these. The issue is, that this is not a due-to-old-age problem, it’s been like this for as far back as I can remember. You know what? Sometimes I miss those few thousand miles between the family and myself. They are so much easier to like with a lot of distance in between. Sorry, it’s the truth.
Alright. Now a nice big spoonful of Valerian and I shall get back to “neutral mood” right quick.


After All…

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…She Was Correct,

and who would have thought that? Well not my mom, apparently…
It is an ongoing issue between the both of us, that she questions nearly everything I say. No matter if I read something, had a conversation with someone, or draw from my own life experience. She won’t believe it, until two to three other people tell her the exact same thing, or she hears about it on TV. You know, I try to keep calm on the outside. But it drives me bonkers inside. What is her point? Does she think her daughter is a notorious liar? Of all people she should know, that I’m terrible at “telling tales”, and therefore gave up even trying.
Most recent example: A few months ago, I read an article about feeding birds and the best types of feeders. It was stated, that a classic birdhouse, while adorable to look at, is not hygenic. Due to the fact, that the little visitors can get inside and leave their droppings among the seeds, others may end up getting sick. It was suggested to use feeders with just small openings instead.
After reading the article, I purchased one of those feeders. When I brought this topic up in conversation, the response was something like this: “And straight away you’re in panic mode, believe everything you read and make the suggested changes. Yes, it can happen and the birds could get sick, but what are the chances of it happening”?
Now just the other day, in one of her evening shows on TV they discussed this very topic. And what do you know? The very next morning she said to me: “Oh, you know what? You were actually right about the bird feeders. They talked about it last night on TV. Do you still have that other bird feeder for me to use, so that I can take the birdhouse down”?
Honestly, I’m getting to the point at which deep breaths, counting to five and all the “om’s” in this world won’t help anymore. Does my mom think I make up stories? What would I achieve by doing that? I should not let it get to me, I know. But it does take a toll, increasingly so. Most of all I can’t help but wonder, what that says about our mother-daughter-relationship in general.

More Important

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Good golly, one more negative thing today and I am going to scream in frustration.
After months of back-and-forth drama with regard to my basement storage- and hobby room [no thanks to my brother, the jerk], I finally gathered all my courage today, to start creating handmade books again. Because it’s been quite a while, I pretty much have to start from scratch again and was afraid to begin for the past two weeks [due to possible failure and resulting discouragement]. But today was going to be the day, until….
Simultaneously, I wanted to sew a little pouch according to a video tutorial I saw on pinterest. Even though I should know better by now, I asked my mom to show me which fabric I can use to give this little project a try. It most definitely didn’t end with the selection of materials to work with. Oh no, she took over the entire project, she always does. And if I dare say something, she gets upset and accuses me of being ungrateful, for not accepting the offered help…. And of course she wants to force her ways on me, all the gosh darn time. I explained more than once, that I wanted to try what was being shown in the video. Every step of the way was commented on about how it should be done “correctly”. To cut to the chase, once this dang pouch was completed, I was upset and had no desire left to start crafting. I should not let this get to me, it’s my own fault. She means well, yeah I know….all of it. Truth, though? I hate being micromanaged. Don’t tell me what to do, honestly. Just let me try it. Let me fail by myself. Let me learn. Ugh! But, ungrateful bitch that I am… You know what’s funny? To this present day she [and pretty much everyone else who knows me] wonders, why I don’t believe in myself and my abilities. You know the sad part about it all? When I was in America I learned self confidence. Friends and co-workers believed in me, encouraged me. Everyday life, with all its ups and downs, taught me that I am capable of so much more than I would have thought possible. I was well on my way to being a lot more self confident, to try new things, test my abilities. Unfortunately since my move back to Germany I’ve been regressing to being my mother’s child, in desperate need [her opinion] of micromanagement.
Sometimes I can’t help but cry, when I think about how far and hard I fought my way forward, about everything I learned, with lots of tough love, but also without anyone by myside to take over. I was independent, managed every aspect of my life alone. Some choices were questionable, with the outcome not being in my favor. But hey, you live and you learn. That’s the way life goes.
Sometimes I just want to get in the car and leave. My heart just screams for a place, where nobody knows me, where I can live on my own terms, make decisions and mistakes, and just be myself. But it’s not going to happen, because just like all of you I was raised to be a good kid and do what’s right and expected of me. Once I calm down again I realize, that the remaining time with my mom is limited. So I call myself to order, and to be more forgiving and thankful for the time she sets aside to take an interest in what I do, or her willingness to teach me another way of doing things. It’s a damn pouch, for heaven’s sake, and not truly that important. Tomorrow is a new day, another opportunity to begin crafting again. I wrote about my frustration, the grumpy mood has been wrestled to the ground successfully, and now it’s all good again.

Social Circus

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Okay. It is high time to win the lottery, to buy a private island and put D I S T A N C E between the other people and myself. The “art” of socially interacting seems to be a lost cause for me at this point, it’s hopeless. I’m damn near done trying, to put it bluntly. Misunderstandings are among my greatest struggles, when interacting with others. Yes, I know that autistic people [most, if not all of them to various degrees] run on a different operating system from that of the neurotypicals. Still I’m convinced, that communicating clearly appears to be a problem overall. It starts within the family. If they would just say what it is they truly mean or want, instead of hoping, that I get lucky and read between the lines correctly for once, our daily lives could be a bit easier. What’s this all leading up to? Another episode of me attempting social interaction, featuring yours truly: a misunderstanding. Because it kept me up most of the night, being disappointed in myself and frustrated, I’ll write about it now, hoping to get it out of my system…

It started with a WhatsApp message from our neighbor lady. She told me, that she would like to join us for our evening dog walks more often, beginning Sunday night. What she meant is, that some night after Sunday she wants to walk with us. What I understood is, that she wants to join us on Sunday night and other evenings going forward [yep, I’m guilty, and don’t I know it!?]. After exchanging some details with regard to the time and route, I thought that we’d meet up on Sunday night for our first walk together with the dogs. And yes, I was looking forward to it, because usually it is very enjoyable. There were no more messages after her final response, being “Okay got it. Thanks”. Sunday night, at the mentioned time, she was nowhere in sight, so I walked across the street towards her house. She was outside, watering the plants. And you guessed correctly, I was confused. She looked at me and said, almost accusatory “I’m not coming with you guys tonight, I just got home”. Oh, right! And I should know that, because…..? Am I her personal assistant? Do I run her daily schedule from sunrise to sundown, knowing where she is and what she’s up to? What the fluff!? Whatever. My mom told me to let it go, knowing full well, that wasn’t going to happen.
What peeves me so much is the fact, that most often I get blamed, because I’m the autistic person, who misunderstands everything, all of the time. They never consider the possibility of not having communicated their thoughts and intentions clearly enough. Just blame the “odd one”, who doesn’t grasp the concept anyway, and the whole annoying topic can be dismissed.

Once and for all, I very enthusiastically want to encourage all of you neurotypicals to get one fact through your thick skulls: being autistic does not equal being stupid!

It’s so damn easy and convenient for you, to blame the other [socially challenged] person. But self reflection never hurt anyone, especially when you know, that the person you are having a conversation with struggles with social cues and the ability to “read between the lines”. Internalize, please!