The War

People routinely remark at how I manage to stay calm and composed, especially during times of heightened stress. From shepherding over 150 youth through the local mass transit system to teach them its fundamentals and flaws, to recovering from a highway crash that left my then-partner in a wheelchair temporarily, I am known to be the one to have around during a crisis.

This is borne, largely, from having to fight my own private battles, every day. Mornings exemplify this. I wake, and almost immediately am hit with wave after wave of thoughts - usually inwardly negative - that I have to fight through. As I walk to the shower, it's like a landmine-strewn field, each step tentative, wondering if I can manage this battle, this grind. Pushing through the doubt, the uncertainty, that I am subject to / subject myself to, is exhausting.

By the time I arrive at work, I am exhausted. I have already faced demons, battled thoughts, and survived the landmines of despair. Only then, can I begin my day, battered, bruised, beaten - and yet, somehow, still standing. 

This is my superpower. And my kryptonite. For it allows me to take the larger things in stride, knowing that the battles I have fought are worse than any that I may face Outside.

Journal - Oct 16,, 2025

 Sometimes, I just need to talk. I don't need advice, suggestions, pity, fake comfort, so I figure this is a good place to let my voice be heard. If no one ever reads these, well, who really cares?

Today is a mmarginally better day than yesterday, or frankly most of this week. At first after my folks' outburst, and walking out of my birthday, I was ok. It allowed me clarity into just how destructive (intentional or not) my mother has been throughout my life. But as time went on, this crystallized into a deep, almost incomprehensible pain at being abandoned by one's own parents. Even at 47, even with our troubled past, this hurts.

Add to this my sense of abandonment by people who I once thought were close friends, and I find myself in a dark place, struggling to find my way in this world, struggling to find people to care - and, wondering, how much of the problem is ME? That's the scariest part. People often tell me I'm kind, generous, giving, and I DO feel I am those things. But what about the rest? Humans are pattern recognition machines, and I am the common denominator to all these issues. Maybe I am Just A Problem, and need to accept that I'll never have anyone around who cares, who shows interest or compassion. Maybe I'm just too fucked up, maybe I'm too autistic, maybe I'm just too dumb. I don't know. All I know is, living in constant emotional pain, is not living. At this point, it's barely surviving.

But.

I have been here before, oh so many times. Even as a kid (back when autistics were labelled "weird, stupid, ignorant, rude, antisocial" (and one wonders why we prefer the Autism banner)) I struggled to make friends, watched people in my circle date while I struggled with basic humman interaction .. but I don't WANT to be. I want people to WANT me around. I want SOMEone to message me and say, hey, I haven't heard from you in awhile, let's hang out. But, that's not my fate. I am fated to be alone, in this life, and I have to find a way to find some small measure of joy, while I'm still around.

Somehow.

Ramblings of a weary soul

 I'm 47. That alone should be worth celebrating, as I never expected to make it out of my teen years alive.

I was what we now call Autistic (specifically Aspergers). back then, this is what I was called:

- Stupid
- Weird
- Emotional

To those who wonder why people choose the term Autism, they don't - but it is a far cry better than the labels we used to have.

I found out I was on the spectrum when I was 43. At first, it was like an awakening, finding out that the reasons I struggled socially, and in other areas of life, was because I'm autistic, and struggle to understand the nuances of human interactions. What wound up happening was that this was subtly used against me. People withdrew, people treated me differently. NOTHING about me had changed. And yet, everything changed.

I find myself, today, alone, in the purest sense. I have no partner. I have no friends I can really open up to. I have no friends I can hang out with, or talk to. I have no one to go to the pub with, watch a movie with, none of that. And last week, I lost my parents. Not to an accident, but to the words "Screw You", uttered by my mother in public before storming off. My father sat impassively, waited calmly for the bill, paid, stood up and walked out. Not a word said. Though, that was the norm growing up. I worked for him growing up, and on the drives to and from work, he would say ... nothing. No small talk. No casual chit chat. Nothing at all. It was to the point where if he cleared his throat I would jump, wondering if he was going to talk, and what he would say. 

Looking back, my life has been defined by my loneliness. In school, I was picked on, bullied and beat up, while classmates watched on, rivetted. At home, my father mocked my earring, and my mother tried her best, until I got to my teen years when she seemingly gave up on me, pivoting to caring for my sister instead. I did have a couple of friends growing up but even they kept me to the perimeter. I remember once my whole social group went to Toronto for a concert - and yet, I was not invited.

I don't know why I focus on little details like that. They serve to remind me that people just don't want me around. It happened again recently, where someone had invited me out, told me they couldn't make it and cancelled, but not even 20 mintues later were posting on social media about going to the event anyway. It felt like a betrayal, a final nail in my social coffin.

I desperately yearn for a voice, a shoulder to cry on, SOMEthing to help me with the burden my life has become.

YungBlud

 Ever since Back To The Beginning, we have all been hearing a lot more about YungBlud. I personally have fallen in love with his latest album, Idols, and it's on my regular repeat list. His lyrics speak of deep pain, but also offer hope, something that is largely lacking in this world, and in my life as well, if I'm being honest.

I've also seen a LOT of talk about how he's "Riding Ozzy's coat-tails", how he's a fraud, just doing what he's doing for the attention. I am here to say ... so what? IF he is not genuine, then damn, we need more frauds like him. He portrays himself as someone who cares - TRULY cares - for his fans, the way Ozzy did. If it's an act, I really don't care. I have heard and seen nothing but outstanding behaviour from him, from helping folks get into shows, insisting that prices be reasonable, by being PRESENT when on stage and in front of fans .. he secretes love the way an Olympian secretes sweat. His love for people drips from him. You can see it in his smile. You can see it in his body language, how he interacts with people, how EASY it is for him to interact with people.

If YungBlud is fake, then let's all practice his brand of fakery, and remember that "Maybe it's not too late. To learn how to love and forget how to hate"

Pain

 In need of a safe outlet, I post here.

The emotional pain I am feeling right now, is too much. Every day feels like a struggle. I "celebrated" my birthday a couple of weeks ago, and pretty well every plan I made, fell through, for various reasons, leaving me feeling alone. I then had a dinner with my parents.

We sat down at the pub, and started chatting. My mom was going on about their new condo, which hasn't even begun construction yet. I tried to get a few words in - talk about my trip this summer, talk about my plans to maybe one day MOVE to Europe - but they weren't interested, in the least. On top of this, every time I'd respond to a quesetion from my mother, she'd snap and tell me how I SHOULD have responded. I got frustrated and told her bluntlly that conversations mean I am entitled to have a response, or to ask a clarifying question. But each time I did, she'd say "That's not the answer I wanted". After 45 minutes, my mother stood up, said Screw You - loudly enough to be heard by others - and stormed off. My father, sat there not saying a word, got the bill, paid and left. I haven't heard from them since. I reached out to my sister to let her know what happened, and she has left me on unread.

I'm terrified to reach out - to ANYone - to talk about any of this. I don't know who I can trust. In a world where even my own parents can't stand me, why should anyone else care? 

I've carried this pain for a long time. A very long time. Even as a kid, I didn't feel valued by people. I try, and I try, and I TRY. I give of myself to others, consstantly. But there's no one around when I need someone, a hug, an ear. I don't even know what I want out of life anymore. Human compassion. Belonging. SOMEONE. I can't believe how empty life is, right now. Empty, and without any meaning at all.