Considering Suicide? Reasons to LIVE!

Facing suicide is just about the most serious thing you can do. You don't have to do it alone and depression is a powerful demon to face alone. So you definitely should seek help. If you found this post, you were likely looking up issues on suicide online. Please consider finding this an act of fate to intervene on ending your life. Give yourself the chance to read these reasons to live and take them to heart long enough to live another day or get help.

You are not worthless: Depression gets deep into your inner ear and tells you lies about yourself. That's what they are, lies. You are not worthless. Everyone has value even if they don't know what that is yet. You are valuable to someone else too, even if it doesn't look that way today.

Depression lies to you: As if saying above wasn't enough, it bears repeating. Understand this clearly; your depression is trying to kill you. Don't let it.

You will make a positive impact in someone's life: Sooner or later and more than once. You will matter in someone else's life. It's a simple reality. You just need to hang on long enough and keep fighting for your life. Do you have a child? Children look up to us for guidance. By living you can still make good with your child. By dying, you seal off all possibilities forever. You also never know who that stranger will be around the corner who would have benefited somehow by meeting you.

Nobody's perfect: While your depression argues these points in your head, remember that no one is perfect. We all screw up and have to come back from it. Sometimes, we change our lives forever, sometimes, we bounce right back. That's life, my friend. It's still livable.

Someone will have to clean that up: Basic logic says that someone is going to find your body. Someone is going to have to clean up the mess you leave behind. Even if you just take pills, your bowels and bladder will let go and leave a mess. Don't make this happen any sooner than it needs too. People die enough already without helping the issue. And if you have young children, why would you want your lifeless body too mar their young memories and nightmares forever?

You're creating expenses bigger than what you are already dealing with: Look up the cost of a funeral. It's not a fun prospect and you'll be putting that on someone else's shoulders. If you think your family's finances are bad now, why would you want to add this to the problem? Insurance? Nope.

Insurance companies deny claims over suicide: Even if you have a suicide clause of some kind, it's going to screw up your life insurance seriously. At the minimum it will delay payment to your family for months (even  years) and cause even more expensive legal issues while fighting their decisions. Suicide is not a one and done deal. You may be gone, but the effects of what you do will linger forever.

You have potential you haven't found yet: No matter what, you have potential for something good somewhere or somehow. You just haven't found it yet. Denying this just proves the point even more. You won't know it until you see it. If you die, you'll never get to find out. Don't let depression rob you of life's possibilities.

The pain won't end: It continues with those you left behind. Think you have no family? What about that nice neighbor you talk to or that guy at that little store where you get your coffee every morning. You might be someone else's ray of sunshine in the morning and not even know it. You will affect someone. And if you are religious, suicide is a sin. So whether we are talking about those left behind or the philosophical, the pain won't end. Which makes another excellent point;

It's not a good way to prove your religious beliefs: Not only will you not be able to tell anyone about what you discover, you may discover possibilities you hadn't considered. You'll have a hard time finding a religion (taken seriously) that tells you it's okay to kill yourself. If you're an atheist, it's still a terrible way to prove there's no God. Who would you prove it to exactly?

You may have to live it all over again: If you've ever believed in reincarnation (to follow up on the religious argument) you have to consider this. What if you have to come back and do it all over again because you decided to flip the off switch yourself? If you aren't enjoying things this time around, what makes you think a do over will be better? Maybe this is your test in life? Overcome it instead. If you believe in the Bible at all, you will know that God says you are rewarded for your suffering, not for ending it all. I wouldn't want to roll the dice on this possibility.

It will get better: If there's one thing human beings are famous for, it's the power to adapt. And logic dictates that things can't stay bad forever. If you are being bullied, life will get better. It will! Hard times will pass and new times bring new possibilities. If it didn't kill you when it happened, it wasn't meant to.

The world will not be better off: Nor will anyone else. Your death will not make an impact on the global state of the world. It will be a sad footnote and a local tragedy. Death does not make anyone better off. Statistics for crime, war, and domestic violence prove it. Suicide is a dark shadow, a smear on the world. It's not worth it.

It won't "teach" anyone anything: Except for how depressed you were. It's also a terrible idea for revenge. You aren't going to get anyone back for anything. All you'll do is what's already been mentioned above. No one is going to hear about your death and say, "Boy, that guy sure taught me a lesson!" No. They're going to shake their heads and wonder at what was wrong with you. Death removes you from debate. If you want to teach someone something, find a better way to do it. Find new success in your life and live in spite of your haters.

If you are considering suicide for any reason, please get help. Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.   This post dedicated to the influx of calls to suicide hotlines after the death of Robin Williams.

Setting an example for our autism youth

My desk area for Galaxy Zento

You might remember, a couple blog posts back, where I wrote to you all about my Galaxy Zento project and what you could do to help with the setting of that example. Well, you worked wonders, my friends and tripled the number of people I was reaching. That's not a million people or anything, but it was a record and I'm grateful. The record? 676 people reached. That's more than 5x the number of LIKES on the page. Thank you!

So today I want to share more about my experience growing up and my son's experience in comparison with autism. I want my experiences to give hope to families struggling with understanding their kids and hope to kids who aren't sure where their lives are going.

This is NOT to say that I have the final answers to anything in autism. It's not meant to give false hopes to anyone. But if you have no hope to draw on at all, where does that leave you?

When I was growing up I was considered to be one effed up kid and that's just the language that got used. During the divorce of my parents I vanished into a fantasy world tried to get others to believe that I had bionics like the Six Million Dollar Man. Today, my son is trying very hard to convince us that he's a star in outer space with super powers. The fantasy is still there.

My son and I collect together

I developed rituals before I was ten of doing things in even numbers. I had to turn lightswitches off or on twice, zip zippers twice, turn objects twice and so on. I felt severely compelled to do this and I don't remember thinking there would be anything but bad luck if I didn't.  I developed a stim of clearing my throat, just like my son does today. I had other stims too and sensory issues. I liked the feeling of some fabrics under my fingernails and cool surfaces were calming to me.

I developed trouble in school early. In my last article I explained that my son has gone through a spot of bad behavior, stealing back his DS when grounded and sneaking out of the house at night through a window with a six foot drop. Well. When I was 8 or 9, I was told to stay after school. I knew I would be in trouble at home if I were late and I told the teacher my father needed to be called. She said it was my problem. I asked to go to the bathroom. She let me and I snuck out of school and ran home. I destroyed letters I was supposed to deliver to my father from the teachers before that (only two days before) and had to stay after again. This time she said I was NOT going to the bathroom. However she left the room,  summoned by the principal and I was gone.

When the phone call came, I got the most horrifying belt beating you can imagine and sentenced to my bed for thirty days. I was to come home, do my homework on my bed, eat dinner on my bed and I could only leave my bed to go to school or the bathroom. I could have one stuffed toy. My father let me out of that punishment after a week. He didn't think I could handle the whole thing, but I never, ever did that again. I won't punish my son like that, but he is in a lot of trouble right now. The difference is I have a team of people to work with him and explain things and teach him. All the while he still gets disciplined. The point is, I had my behavior rough spots too. I had my ticks, my stims, and all the things I see in him today.

By the time I reached 6th grade, I had very few friends (there were 3 of us) and two of us were bully magnets. Before I went to Jr High (a total freaking nightmare) I was playing with kids 5 years younger than me. Just like my son prefers to play with kids either way younger or almost adults (sound familiar?). I didn't understand kids my age at all. It was a concern but not addressed very well, so continued. Those were the times. Now I'm hoping to keep him from being bullied like I was.

A painting I did for autism

Despite my life and all I went through, despite not having support for autism as kid; despite running away from home at 14; despite my random life that I will be sharing here soon; despite the fact that my medical health has gained deteriorating factors, I am still doing things. I still became a parent of four kids, I still have a part in their lives, I still held jobs, and now I'm still striving to do something, anything. I want kids with autism (who are unsure of their lives) and kids with bipolar or who are being bullied, to know that they can do something too. That is what Galaxy Zento stands as an example of.

You can do this too. You can take the accomplishments of your life and show them to your kids. Show them that it's not over until it's over and life has possibilities for them. Show them other people who do amazing things despite disability. It's not about being gainfully employed either, it's just about doing something that you can be good at. And that's a great start!

So thank you for sharing Galaxy Zento. I hope more of you will continue to "like" and follow the page. And when the first novel (The Chessmen) gets published, you'll hear about it first. Thank you!

Autism in the workplace

I'm going to use the term Asperger's for high functioning autism here because it's recognizable and familiar. I could say HFA too, but whatever. This is for those who are able to go out and seek employment. You know who you are.

This post is inspired by a comment a while back:

"I've got Asperger's syndrome and so will probably be re-diagnosed as now having mild autism. Since resources are limited, those with a supposedly less severe disability such as myself will likely lose what little support we are getting.

I've read many blogs on the subject and no-one seems to be discussing the fact that the needs of people across the autistic are so very different. Many people with Asperger's, myself included, are capable of living fully independent lives but need a lot of intensive and expensive support...especially in the area of employment"

First of all, we would do well to remember that our needs across all of us vary dramatically from one end of the spectrum to the other. That's why it's referred to as a spectrum. It's hard for us to do that sometimes because of our social blindness that trips us up so much. That same "social blindness" (as I call it- not a medical term) can really screw things up on the job.

Seeking employment with our conditions is a daunting task. Sometimes, as you try to explain yourself, (especially if you do it in an interview) you can almost see the interviewer rolling their eyes:

"Oh gawd, seriously?"

And you know you aren't getting that job. It's a nerve wracking experience to say the least.

So what do you do? Hide the fact that you have any condition? Sure, but then if things mess up somewhere and you try to explain it, you wind up with them either not believing you or penalizing you harder. I've had this happen personally. I've lost jobs because I thought I was following directions and they came around and said, "How could you do that!"  Employment is not such an easy world for those who have autism at any level. No, that doesn't speak for everyone. Some never have a problem, or at least don't look like it. Others with more difficulty wind up with unforgiving employers who have no patience.

And that's what we need, patience and often direct and literal instruction on the job. In todays financially stressed world, there aren't as many patient employers as there should be. So there are some things that we need to do the best we can.

1: Never give up looking for ways to be employed or self supporting.
2: Get career minded and seek schooling for what interests you most.
3: Seek out special programs in your area or state that may help you get training or work experience.

I know, not all of us can do this, and many will need help and guidance. That's why the rest of us advocates need to educate employers and bring this to the attention of our politicians and special programs. Employing someone with autism may take some adjustment and clear communication skills but there are rewards for doing so.

1: Detail oriented. We can be so detial oriented that, once we know our job, we don't vary. And we'll work hard to prove it.
2: Loyalty to company. Once we get into a company and work for them, we can be fiercely loyal to who we work for. We'll be ready to go to bat. We'll help with special projects (so long as we have clear instructions).
3: While not all of us can be awesome with the public (we'll sure try!) many of us can be awesome in behind the scenes project support that will knock your customer's socks off.

Now some final advice for you seeking employment. Something you need to ask yourself:

Are you responsible with your medical conditions? If not, that can and will get in the way of your employment opportunities.  For example, if you have bipolar disorder (severe enough to require medication) and you don't take your medication, you could have problems. It's one thing to be doing the best you can with what you have. It's another entirely to be irresponsible, commit crimes, drink, do drugs, or not take care of yourself. So, if you want to succeed here are a few things to remember:

1: Hygiene... go to work clean! Take showers, brush your teeth and hair, clean yourself and wear clean clothes. Use deodorant! Use soap! Do it everyday if you have bodily odor problems. As you get older you will find your body needs it more and more. Mine sure does!

2: Stay out of legal trouble! Don't get into illegal drugs, don't abuse any drugs, don't drink alcohol. Stay away from people who do these things.

3: Don't be lazy. Get out of bed in the morning, be on time or even five to ten minutes early. Keep to your schedule.

It is hard out there. We do need support. What's sad is that there are areas where we still don't get that support and my own story proves it. I think it's about time I actually share that story.

Internet support groups

It seems like you can't sneeze at your search engine without finding a support group on the net. You can find them for anything and at any capacity. Some are small like chat rooms and some social pages. Others are huge with website information, message boards, articles and more. Some internet support is done by a person writing blog articles, like this one. There are all sorts of variations, but what do you need to know in looking for a place to be accepted?

Isn't that what it's really about? We all want a place to be accepted and there are plenty of people who can't seem to find that place in their local avenues. Thanks to a lack of services in small towns or even some cities, the internet has become the go to place for support groups. The good about this is that these groups are easy to find. The bad is that they lack "in person" social experiences.

The most important thing to remember about any social group you join for support of any condition is this:  Everyone else has the condition too. If you join a group for autism, you have to remember that they people you are talking to also have autism and have the same pitfalls in behavior or social skills that you might have. The same thing goes for bipolar disorder. What's worse, words on a screen lack emotion and are subject to being easily misunderstood from what the writer intends. Everyone has extra sensitivity to something and stepping on toes or egos is so easy it's ridiculous. This results in flame and post wars that get people banned or completely destroy the validity of a support group.

Our conditions make us all unreasonable in one way or another and we need to remember that as we enter the support group setting. This is why live support groups usually have a mentor, therapist or doctor on hand to help moderate discussions and help with misunderstandings.

There are a lot of community groups that lack moderation. Places with no moderation risk becoming mosh pits of hostile behavior that do little for support of anyone. Some people like it, but few of them feel the need for acceptance. Rather, they just want a place to go for their bad behavior.

No one is immune to the power of misunderstanding on the internet. Even good moderators can forget that the person they are talking to has a social disorder. That, in itself, is the great pitfall of having a social disorder in the first place.

TIP: When a comment upsets you, STOP and ask yourself: Is this person really trying to offend me or is this a misunderstanding? Remember, you are in the same boat and this person likely thinks differently than you do.

TIP: If you can't get along with someone or feel they are truly attacking you, just block them. Sometimes there is just no way to help that person, no matter what you do and some people really are just there to hurt others.

TIP: Don't stay in hostile territory. When it's clear that the behavior of the group isn't going to be helpful to you, leave. Shop around, there are lots of groups out there and some are bound to be well moderated and much more friendly.

Being in a support group on the net can be a rewarding experience. Just try to remember how your disorder/condition affects you. However it affects you others will be affected similarly, better, or worse. We all have triggers and we all have the potential to "go off". Some people will have quicker triggers than others. By this rule of thumb, you can get along better with others and make your social internet experience that much better.

My neurological journey

Conditions are deteriorating. Things that remind me of that happen more frequently now. In the beginning no one could find any proof of the damage in my brain. I've researched websites to include places like the Mayo clinic and found that it's not easy to find the proof sought. It has to be drastic to show up on MRI's without a dye contrast. I was unlucky enough to have doctors who wouldn't run an MRI with contrast unless I was flailing on the floor. That compounded getting diagnosis accurately.

I even saw two neurologists and both of them discounted and dismissed me. The second literally kicked me out of his office only because I have bipolar disorder. He wouldn't hear anything I had to say.

In the mean time, I've consistently and slowly been losing my balance. I wear out faster than ever, despite exercise. I have vertigo over simple and slight movements of my body or head. And my cranial nerves hate it when I try to lift something heavy, even if I'm physically strong enough to. I faint or have a fainting spell. Coughing is dangerous, it will knock me out. Sneezing causes nerves in my neck and shoulders to react and stun me. It's called a brachial stun, used by police officers to subdue unruly suspects. And the contused nerves in my forehead hurt a lot and often. All of this seems to go hand in hand with my sensory disorder and make it worse too. It's all be gradual, but I can definitely tell the difference.

Maybe my problem was how the doctors in the areas I lived did things. The first time I spoke about this to a doctor here in Louisiana he set me up with a contrasted MRI. It came back as quote: "unusual". To that I say THANK YOU, it proves I'm not crazy or imagining things. I've talked to lots of people who have gone through this in trying to track their health and take care of themselves. It's a diminishing and dehumanizing feeling when doctors won't listen to you. Then it's a Godsend when they do. Maybe, now that I have an updated MRI that actually shows something, I'll have better luck with the new neurologist next month. Yeah that's as soon as I can get in and I have to drive fifty miles too.

In the mean time, my short term memory is crud. My coordination is worse. Last night, I was having a bowl of chili. I went to get a spoonful and slammed my hand into the steaming hot mixture instead. It dumped on my lap and scalded my hand. I can't tell you how much that messes with my head when that kind of thing happens. Two days before that, I spent an entire day in what felt like a narcotic fog. No, I hadn't taken anything stronger than tylenol. I was useless for the whole day. I didn't hit my head, or get sick. I was just fogged beyond belief. I've had to catch myself on doorways, walls, and getting up out of a chair is treacherous.

As these things happen, I find myself saying "what the hell?" I'm only 41. Didn't I have enough to deal with in my autism and bipolar? Or maybe it's something more depreciating than bipolar ever was. What if the bipolar was MS all along? I don't know, but sure hope to find answers soon.

I do everything in short intervals, even this blog. It sits on my screen as I stop and rest my hands in between. It's a struggle I won't give up, even if I eventually have to have someone else type it. If I can get someone (ha ha on that). Well, I will post on my journey more as it happens. Till then, be well.

(Do you like heroes? Please be sure to visit my Galaxy Zento blog, follow it and come to my fan page at: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Galaxy-Zento/233056856752787

Autism and stress

Question posed: What makes it so easy for people with autism to freak out?

On the surface, some may be offended at such a question. It's really a good opportunity to educate on what it can be like to live with autism or several other disorders that aren't plain to the naked eye. So, rather than get offended, I suggest sharing what stress levels are like for disorders of this kind.

First let's define stress in the psychological sense. First you may be interested to know that stress is a very subjective word and everyone has their own personal view of its definition. For the most part just about everyone understands that something irritating you is stressful and causes you "stress". There are positive and negative forms of stress as well. Everyone handles stress at least a little bit differently.

Another thing most people can agree on is that stress has its limits. You can only take so much of a "stressor" before you need to take a break. A good example of this is to think of exercise. Imagine picking up a five pound weight and bending your arm while lifting it. When you lift the weight you put stress on the muscles in your arm. The first time you lift it, may provide little stress. If you lift it a few more times, your arm may begin to get tired. The more you repeat the process of lifting and lowering the weight, the more difficult it becomes. This shows the limit of stress on those muscles. Eventually you will reach what is called "muscle failure" and you will have to put the weight down and let your arm rest.

In mental stress you deal with a similar style of limits, but different kinds of stressors. For example, think of your monthly bills. If you are having financial trouble or just on limited income, your monthly bills (electricity, phone, rent) may be a source of negative stress for you. Fear is another stressor, whether fear of losing your home, having your phone turned off. Fear may be of something real or imaginary.

One more thing that we can usually agree on is that, with enough stress applied, most things will break down in some fashion. That breakdown point is called a "stress limit". How many ways can you see stress limits in your day to day life?

Here's an idea; when you sit down to your next meal, pay attention to how you feel while you are eating. When you feel hungry, that is a stress. So, you eat your dinner and towards the end of it you start to feel full. Feeling full is a stress limit on your stomach. Whenever you breach a stress limit there is always a consequence. Overeating will make you feel bloated or sick, for example.

Now, lets consider another area of stressors. These are stressors that you face every day. They likely mean nothing to you at basic levels if you don't have a disorder. Environmental stressors, like odors, temperature, sounds, weather, traffic, and even other people bombard you every day. Your typical person learns to filter most of these out as they go about their daily routines. Even these stressors can be too much for you though. When you are tired and trying to sleep at night, you don't want to listen to your neighbors stereo rattling your windows.

So what are your stress limits? Well, consider your stress level through the day, like a weight scale. Take into account that all forms of stress add toward your personal limit. If you get enough rest and are of good health, you should start out your day with low stress and energy to move forward with. As you go through your day and handle work and various things that pop up in life, these will add in their own way. By the end of the day( which is different for everyone) you feel tired and need to rest for your next day. This can also change based on how much stress piles onto you in a short amount of time. That is the clincher.

With disorders like autism, PTSD, MS, Bipolar and various sensory issues, the limits to stress are not necessarily less. Instead, the senses and mental limits take on their full limit faster than with other people. In autism, the brain may not filter out all the stressors like typical person can do. Thanks to that, if you have autism, your stress limit in your senses may be maxed out before you even get your day started.

Having senses too high or low in sensitivity creates high demand on anyone. It makes your interactions and reaction with the world around you chaotic at best. That also creates frustration which adds to the stress and then you're even worse off than before. Then other people lose their patience with you (as you are likely also doing for yourself) and guess what? More stress! And, chill out doesn't work.

Improvement can be found in practice for some, but it depends entirely on the person and how strong their disorder is in them. Just like lifting that weight. If you do it every day or even just every other day, your ability will increase. You will be able to lift and lower more times before you have to stop. Some levels of our disorders will not allow for this. Take Multiple sclerosis for example. As a progressive condition, it takes away from what your body can tolerate or do. The practice may slow it down, but it it's strong enough, it will overcome your best efforts.

Because all stressors lend toward your full limit (yes some can be rested from in short periods), people with disorders reach lost limits much faster. Some are always at their full limit. If you were at your full limit on stress like that, you might find it easy to "freak" too.

Autism: What they want you to know

Recently I posted a question on several autism Facebook groups and my own Facebook page. The question was: What do you want people to know about autism? The answers not only provide an educational view but demonstrates varying views of having autism. I'm going to go over some of those response here and I hope you find them enlightening. As always, feel free to leave a comment (comments moderated for language).

Answers:

-Autism is treatable, not contagious, not the end of the world, not a death sentence: From mild to severe, autism's comorbid effects are treatable and manageable (though to varying degrees). Parents of children with autism want you to know that their children are under medical management and not going to drop dead in the middle of some grocery store or park. In the same light, if you are a parent of a newly diagnosed child, it's not the end of the world. Learn about autism and research it heavily. It's one of the best things you can do. Finally, autism is not contagious. No one is going to turn autistic by being around someone with autism. I don't care if he or she sneezes on you directly. You may catch a cold, but not autism. So there's no need to snatch up your kids and flee the neighborhood park on sight of anyone with autism.

-People with autism can rise above their challenges: Even some children or adults with severe autism may surprise you. While there are people who need help for the rest of their lives, there are just as many (more in fact) who can do all sorts of things. There are lots of children who are in mainstream classes in school, capable of dressing themselves and learning complicated tasks. So, just because someone has autism, it shouldn't be assumed they'll do nothing for the rest of their lives.

-Don't apologize to us: One parent pointed out the annoyance of people sympathizing with her as if her child were already dead or lost forever. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that" is fairly insulting. As a stranger you don't know anything about the person you're sympathizing for. How do you know they need it? How do you know how they even feel about autism? They may be managing perfectly well and only told you for sake of education and understanding. I've had this said to me over my own autism and I said "Not needed, it's my challenge and I live with it just fine".

-Autism doesn't stop because of age: Several parents want you to know that autism doesn't mysteriously go away because of age. It doesn't stop because someone turns 6, 7, 16, 21, or 60. While a select few have treatments that can effectively bury their autism, most will always have something that shows. Many will continue to need certain supports or treatments their entire lives. Remember the above as I say this, though, because needing support or treatment doesn't mean you're a total invalid.

-It needs to be managed, not fixed: People with autism, who area able to communicate this, want you to know they don't need to be fixed. As above, autism is treatable with various support, training, and even the occasional medications. While needs vary by person, it doesn't mean they are broken.

-We have feelings, are still people, need friends and social interaction too: It's also said that just because someone is non-verbal, doesn't mean the don't understand you. There is a movie called "Mozart and the Whale" where the main character is a man with Asperger's who runs a support group. He says in the movie, "We actually want to socialize, we just suck at it". Again this isn't typical for everyone, but it's fairly true by my experience. So, keep in mind that, just because their condition can isolate them, it's doesn't mean they like it or want to be that way.

-It's an invisible disability: It's not a fad, over diagnosed or over blown. Not everyone is disabled by it, but some are and some severely. Just because you don't see missing limbs or deformities, doesn't mean they have no struggles or aren't disabled. Most people who make the insulting observation: Well you look normal, are forgetting something. I have yet to meet just one person who says this who is a doctor. People with autism or even bipolar, don't want to hear about how normal they look. They find it belittling of their struggles and insulting. Having these conditions have nothing to do with how we look. We would like you to remember that.

-Too often mistaken for brattitude: While behaviors still need to be monitored, children with autism will act differently than typical children. They will behave in extremes and are usually delayed in maturing. That means an 8 year old may very well behave emotionally and socially like a 3 year old. These kids aren't being spoiled brats (in most cases), they are struggling to cope with the world around them.

-Autism affects the whole family: It takes a village to raise a child. That couldn't be more true with autism. Having to deal with an autistic child affects everyone in the household. Not only does the child need support, but the family does too in their own way. Siblings may get upset because they feel their autistic sibling gets away with more than they do. Adults may clash over support issues. It's not easy to balance an autistic household.

Finally, just two more. While I would like to post all of the awesome comments I got, I just don't have room.

-It's a manmade pandemic: I have to post this and call it to task. Remember what I said above? A pandemic is an epidemic of infectious disease covering large areas such as continents or world wide. So the comment is incorrect in the idea of a pandemic because autism is not contagious or infectious. It's not an infection. But manmade? That's entirely possible and even probable. Generations of exposure to major pollutants like lead, asbestos, chemicals, drugs, and yes, even mercury with varied environmental factors have damaged our gene pool (how could they not?). At this point, there is no single factor that causes autism, rather a collection of factors. So, did we do this to ourselves? Maybe.

-It's a gift not a burden: This comment struck me as important too. It shows that not everyone with autism in their lives thinks of it the same way. There are plenty of people who say "autistic and proud" and it doesn't slow them down much. They say they are fine in life and need no assistance or treatment. We do need to remember however, that this is not true for everyone. Not everyone feels gifted, is gifted, or can go without support. We need to respect each others feelings and realize not everyone is affected the same by autism. Also, just because you are doing awesome, doesn't mean everyone can do what you do. The fact of this demonstrates the autistic blindness to other peoples conditions that comes with being autistic. So please remember, not everyone feels gifted.

So, feel free to leave your own comments here about what you want people to know about autism. I had lots of great comments and I'm sorry I couldn't post them all.

And the bottom line, autistics are people too.

Mike Corey, musician with a message

When Mike Corey put a link for his music on my facebook page, I must admit, I almost deleted it. I don't allow marketing for much on my page and try to filter out any spam that turns up. This is the internet after all, the kingdom of spam.

I didn't delete his link, though. Instead, I clicked on it and gave his first song a listen. It's called "My mind so broken" and it has a very clear message. You can check out this song HERE.

The song is very clear about what it can be like to live with a mental illness or disorder. So I strongly suggest giving it a listen.

It's clear that Mike has a passion for his music. He takes that passion and embroiders it into his songs to help educate about conditions that are on the rise in our country and the world.

Around August of 2010 Mike was diagnosed with Bipolar, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD, and a social anxiety disorder. He is a recovering alcoholic and addcit (from his facebook page). This brought him the clarity of what you hear in those songs. Mike has actually been writing music and has had his passion since he was 15. Currently he is working on putting a band together and plays regularly at a resource center in Rockford, IL.

Mike volunteers in the Stars of Light Troupe and does some acting as well as singing. If you click on the "here" link above, you can read about it to the right of the profile.

In talking with him in messages I asked him what message he would give to youth struggling with these problems today:

"Do not be afraid and do not judge the people who can truly help you, such as police officers, therapist, judges, case workers and so on. They may seem strange or even mean but it may only be because you are not use to how they are. They only want whats best for you."

People who live with disorders, yet manage to help others and strive to make positive forwards in their lives, are a beacon of hope. It doesn't matter what kind of disorder you live with, you can relate. From what I've seen, Mike definitely can.

So give his music a listen and add him on facebook, I think you'll be glad you did.

Over the mountain, part 7

This is part seven of how I ran away from home at 14, over a mountain. Be sure to read parts 1-6 if you haven't already.

Going down the other side of the mountain consisted of large areas of flat land that steadily went down to other areas of the same. That didn't make it a short walk by any means. Pathways came and went and I couldn't trust their directions. So I did a lot of cross country hiking without paths.

In one clearing I came across an abandoned van. Yes, a motor vehicle. Rust covered it, but it's windows were all intact and darkly tinted. I couldn't help but get a creepy sensation as I walked around it and passed it on by. I didn't want to so much as peek in a window. I didn't have to wonder how it got there for long as I found worn tracks of dirt like random narrow roads. I thought I could follow them, but they often became overgrown with weeds and bushes in places and I had to change course around spots.

I made my way through a strange shaped valley area that caused me to climb up a hill in order to make my way down any further. The hill was steep and I had to lean on the narrow tree trunks that filled the area in order to climb. I still had my stick and suitcase, so my hands were full. I stepped onto the top of that hill area and came face to face with a cow. I couldn't believe it. I stood only five feet away from it. Apparently the side of a mountain makes good natural containment for cows.

It regarded me for only a moment and went back to eating the tall grass it stood in. I carefully walked around it and kept on going. I made my way down another steep hill of narrow trees and found myself in a large clearing. I could see a few more cows standing in a group some distance away. A large cluster of brush oak stood in front of me and in the near center of this clearing, but closer to the trees I just came out of. I casually walked around and saw even more cows. Then I saw the bull.

What's worse, he also saw me. He stamped and snorted and I remembered that I had on a backpack that made me stick out like a neon sign. I backed up past the sight of the brush oak and thought fast. How could I escape a charging bull? He hadn't charged yet, but I needed a chance. The hill I just came down. I could walk up it halfway where the trees were no more than a foot or two apart. In the middle of them I would have fifteen or more trees between me and the bull from any direction.

He hadn't come around yet so I ran into those trees and followed the length of the hill. It brought me around the other side of that brush oak where I might see him again. He was gone. So were the cows. I couldn't see him anywhere, but he had to be on the other side of the brush oak. It's the only thing that made sense. Past where I saw that bull, I saw a wire fence. Even at the closest I could get by staying in the trees, it was a long distance to make. I moved up to the edge of the trees and looked all around. No sight of him. I had to move, I knew I couldn't stay there. I was hungry, thirsty and tired. I couldn't be on the mountain another night. I doubt the bull would have cared for that either.

Slowly I stepped out and I started walking for the fence line. Not too slowly, I didn't want to waste any time. As I felt more confident I quickened my pace. I had a fourth of the distance left when I heard the pounding sound behind me. I only needed one glance and I really shouldn't have taken it. The bull found me and charged. I ran for my life. I didn't look back again, only wanting to get past that fence to safety. I hoped it was safety anyway. Thoughts of the beast tearing right through the fencing to stay after me flashed in my mind. When I reached the fence I slid under it in the dirt like a pro baseball player. I scrambled to my feet, dropping my stick, and kept right on running. I landed on a another path made for some vehicle and followed it around a bend before I finally stopped. The bull had clearly stopped at the fence. I no longer heard it's hooves thundering on the ground for me.

I gasped for breath from my hard run and looked down at the path before me. Lying in the middle of the path, sunning itself, was another rattlesnake. It was much smaller than the first one. It also hadn't noticed me. I shook my head, thoroughly finished with my mountain encounter and just wanted to be anywhere but where I was. I will say I still didn't want to be home. I didn't consider that to be home anymore. I decided I would find roads, and stick to them on my journey instead.

I walked around the snake and continued on my way. Hours later, I found myself walking on a paved road in front of a few houses. I wanted some water so very badly that I marched right up to a door and knocked. The lady who answered was only too glad to give me a glass of water. She asked where I came from and when I told her, she gave me an expression of shock. She offered to make me a sandwich, but I declined. I didn't want to be there for long. She went inside as I finished my water. It wasn't long after I handed her the empty glass that a county Sheriff's car pulled up.

I was taken to a youth detention center in Morgan, Utah; ten miles from where I started. It wasn't against the law to run away from home in Utah, but there were reports about me across the state. My father came and picked me up. We had a long, long talk about why I ran away. He tried to help me, to negotiate things in the house for me. But in the end, I still wound up leaving. Still, this is my story of my mountain journey. You might wonder how I survived it. Was it dumb luck or a guardian angel? I personally believe the latter.

Over the mountain, part six

By now, if you've been following, you know this is about my running away at age 14. If not, please see parts 1-5.

The air chilled and darkness covered the mountain. I shivered, balled up tight in the logs I found. I closed my eyes even tighter and prayed. It didn't get dangerously cold, lucky for me, but enough to be very uncomfortable.

I dozed off at some point but awoke to something scraping against my backpack. Something scratched and even tugged. An animal, and I froze. I didn't turn to see what it was. I didn't move at all. I hoped, since it went for my backpack, and not me, that I would be okay by being absolutely still. Even so, as a a child totally inexperienced in what I was doing, the event was horrifying. I don't think I could have moved if I wanted to.

The scratching stopped and it sounded like the animal moved away toward the water. I still didn't move. I dozed off and woke up with feelings of terror through the night. I cursed myself for what I got myself into and wondered if I would see the sun rise. And if I did get up and run, where would I go? I couldn't see a thing. I could run right off the edge of some other cliff and that wouldn't do at all.

Finally, I opened my eyes to the first rays of morning sun. I made it. Still cold and stiff from laying on the ground, I stretched out and started to move. I lifted up and immediately dodged back down again. On the other side of the log, where I lay my head, about three feet of snake emerged. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who thought it a good place to hide for the night. I slowly inched away from the log and stood up so I could see it from a distance.

The snake moved sluggishly, thanks to the chill in the morning air. I watched it slowly make it's way all the way out, from its angular head to the set of rattles at the end of it's tail. Yes, I spent the night with a rattlesnake. If it weren't for the cold, I could have been in real trouble. Being on the other side of the log helped too, I'm certain. Perhaps that kept it from seeking the warmth of my body.

I caught my breath and looked around at the ground, remembering my visitor from the night. Tracks in the shape of tiny hands by the water told me a raccoon was what came to see me. But why was it so interested in my backpack? Couldn't have been the bright hunter orange color of it. I put some good distance between myself and the snake so I could check my backpack. I felt hungry and then remembered I had put some food in the pack. No holes, so the raccoon didn't get in.

When I opened up my pack I got a nasty surprise all the same. The mason jars of fruit were broken. Probably from my long fall earlier. Smashed fruit and broken glass were everywhere. I had to dump out my clothes and the glass, everything. Then I had to shake out my clothes and the pack to get as much out as possible.

The pit of my stomach ached as I repacked. I was seriously hungry and had to make my way down the mountain. (part 7 coming soon)

Over the mountain, part five

Please note this is part five, if you've missed anything you'll want to backtrack to 1-4.

So I stood on top of that mountain, part of the Wasatch front, and surveyed what I conquered. Then, I looked down the other side. There was still daylight, why not head down the other side and see how far I got? I walked down a steep slope several yards. I came to where the slope glistened in snow. It stretched out downward so far I couldn't be sure of where it ended. I found a ledge to my right and walked out onto it for a better look.

It was easily as steep down as the rock slide I climbed, only much further down. Maybe even twice the distance. On either side, jagged rocks defied me to find any other path to take. Across the mouth of that steep drop I saw another ledge. It's then I'm sure my eyes began to play tricks on me in the growing shadows of the evening. With the sun setting in the West, the East side of the mountain began to grow dark. Out on that opposite ledge, I thought I saw bones, partially unearthed with some kind of skull. Was it human? I don't know. I had to try and go across to look. That meant stepping across that snow pack.

I thought, if I used my stick and dug my feet in like before, it would be easy to cross over and check out the mystery on the other side. The first stamp of my foot whipped both out from under me. I flew down the snow pack like a human rocket. I couldn't stop myself no matter what I tried. I couldn't get my heels to stop me or the stick. I'm sure if I could be heard up there my long sound off of YAAAAAAAA would have turned every head in town.

A pointed black rock grew in front of me and I soon realized I needed to steer. I put my feet out for it and when I hit that rock, it acted like a ramp and tossed me into the air. I came down hard, knocking the wind out of me. More snow and still sliding. Mercifully, I crashed into a thicket of brush oak. I gasped for air and turned over on my side. I hardly felt the cold of the snow for sake of adrenalin.

My little blue suitcase and stick were still with me. Slowly I pushed myself up from the ground. I stood, perhaps in a bit of shock, staring at the way ahead. I landed all the way at the bottom of the slope of snow. What seemed like a valley area opened up in front of me. Tall trees loomed all around. I looked up to the ridge. No way was I getting back up there. The bone mystery would have to sit for someone else. As I stared, I thought I saw someone on the ridge. I thought I saw someone making their way down toward the snow.

It was more than likely my imagination, but it snapped me out of my stupor. I grabbed up my things and made way into the trees. I walked until I couldn't look back up at the ridge anymore. But I couldn't see a lot of things, darkness grew.

I found a new little stream to follow, this time without any hindrances on either side. But I knew I needed to find a place to hide out for the night. That's when I found the little island where the stream separated and went around either side. On that little island was an arrangement of logs. I lay down and curled up in the corner of those logs, praying that they would hide me for the night.

In that, more than the rock slide, more than the snowy pitfall, I would know real terror. (coming in part six)

Over the mountain, part four

This is the story of my journey over a mountain when I ran away from home at 14 years old. If you are just hopping into this, you might want to read parts 1-3 to catch up.

I paused in the trees above the rock slide to empty my shoes. Sharp rocks got into them during my excruciating climb. Once I did that I surveyed the grounds ahead of me. No path to be seen, so cross country I would go. I had to squeeze between some of the little trees because the cluster of them grew too close together. In ten or twenty feet, I came out of them and could see an array of hills going upward. Huge rocks and brush oak dotted the mountainside.

Brush oak, what is that anyway? It's a twisted and gnarled tree-like bush. It grows kind of like a giant bonsai tree. Ahead of me lay a literal forest of them. They weren't thorny or sharp or dangerous. But they were interesting to look at.

I started my climbing hike. I picked out large rocks or formations above me as stopping points and didn't stop until I made it to each one. At each point I paused and gazed down the mountain. I marveled at the incredible view. At one such stopping point, with a long way to go yet, I looked down and saw the helicopter.

I later learned that it might have been patrolling for me. Everyone below was in a tizzy. My little half sister found my note and took it to my stepmother who called Dad. The helicopter didn't climb up toward me, but stayed at one level down by the base of the mountain. As I looked down at it, I couldn't be sure of its purpose, but I had no intention of being found.

By this time, I should mention, my pants were mostly dried out. That's a good thing, because the mountain still had plenty of snow at the top. I started coming across it in wide patches. In that, I finally found a trail. The fact that I no longer had the stream to drink from also started to catch up with me. So what did I do for water next? I ate snow. I didn't even think about the dangers of dehydration. I was just lucky enough to think of eating snow because I was thirsty. I got hungry too, but wanted to save my food.

You might be wondering if I at least used the smarts to take a jacket with me. I did. I put my feet on the top of the mountain without any more perils. I looked down and raised my hands up over my head and yelled. From the peak I stood on, the weather station crested another peak far across. I thought about going over to look at it, but decided against it for chance of being caught.

I know I told you I would let you know in this part if I got into more trouble. I did indeed. You see, I made to the top of the mountain at this point, unscathed. I still had to travel down the other side.

Over the mountain, part 3

So far, I've told you about two small obstacles I overcame when I ran away from home over a mountain at age 14. If you missed those, go back and check out parts one and two.

Making it over that waterfall had me no closer to climbing out of the ravine the creek ran down the mountain in. For that matter, the path couldn't be seen anymore above me. It had wound off another direction. So I followed the water even further in a steady rise. There were two more small water falls I had to climb over, but they were a snap compared to the first. It was warming up now but I had no idea what time it was. I didn't have a watch on. I managed to leave that behind. Always have to forget something right?

So I can only tell you that I followed that creek for long time. When I finally had to stop, the creek ended abruptly and high above me, into the mountain itself. As if that weren't bad enough, to my right stood a high vertical wall of earth, taller than a two story house. To my left and up to the point the creek vanished, an even taller slope of broken rocks and gravel. It made the slope I slid down earlier seem puny though every bit as steep. I wondered if I was trapped, right then and there, but knew I couldn't just sit there.

I climbed up a short embankment to get onto the slide of rocks. I found that, if I kicked my feet in hard and jammed the stick into the ground the same, I could slowly climb up. The rocks were all shapes and sizes, from gravel tiny to fist sized. As I slowly lumbered upward, any I jarred loose, tumbled down into the creek behind me. Every foot upward took painstaking measure and sharp rocks got into my shoes. Three fourths of the way up I could see a boulder, bigger than two of me, wedged into the slide. I set that as a goal, a place I could rest before making it the rest of the way up. I struggled and sweat dripped into my eyes, but I kept going until I reached that boulder. I sat on it with a sigh of relief and looked down.

The creek looked so small and far away and I didn't fully realize just how steep this thing really was. As I pondered that the rock I sat on moved. Apparently, my extra weight served enough to loosen it from the slide. It threatened to roll right over top of me. With quick wits I didn't know I had I jumped to my left and jammed my hands hard into the dust and rocks in a desperate bid to stay put. I looked over my shoulder and watched the huge rock pound its way downward. It sent smaller rocks flying high into the air and created a wide cloud of tan dust. It hit the bottom with an echoing crash.

My heart pounded in my throat and I surveyed myself for damage and losses. Amazingly, my little blue suitcase and hiking stick were up against my knees. I pulled out one of my hands to grab the stick. In that sharp gravel I expected to pull out cut and bleeding hands. To my surprise, not one cut adorned my fingers. I was completely unharmed. I grabbed up suitcase and stick and went back to my method of climbing until I reached the top.

At the top, a new bank of earth stretched out in an overhang with small trees growing from it. I had to reach up and over with my little suitcase and put it past one of the small trees. Next I reached to pull myself up and over. I did this, by putting my stick behind and across a pair of the trees like a pullup bar. Finally, with great effort, I pulled myself out of the ravine onto the side of the mountain more formal. Landscape like a friendly hillside stretched out before me. I took one last look down the slide of rocks and knew I barely escaped with life and limb.

You might think such a realization would make me find a way to get back down that mountain and give up this mad idea. But the terrain ahead looked so much friendlier. I couldn't get into any more trouble like that could I? I'll tell you in part four.

Over the mountain, part two

Be sure to see part one, prior to this very post. As stated there, at 14 years old, on the first day of summer vacation, I ran away from home in Kaysville, Utah. Rather than run away in any standard form, I decided to hike over the Wasatch mountain front.

I left off as a pathway fell away under my feet and took me with it some several feet to the creek running below. I couldn't help but cry out in surprise as I slid in a cloud of dust and dirt. I stopped abruptly as my feet found the large stones lining the sides of the little creek and I paused to catch my breath. I craned my neck to look up the steep bank to the rest of the path high above my head. I looked down at the creek, then back up again. I wanted to be back on the path, so I flipped over and tried to climb back up. No dice. The dirt was far too loose. I had no choice but to follow the creek up to find another place to climb out. The banks were steep and stretched high on both sides. There were large stones around the creek sides and it only sat four feet wide at it's largest points. It wasn't deep either, but frigid cold. I had no wish to be wet.

In part one, I neglected to mention I actually had a target point to cross over the mountain. At the top of the mountain sat a weather station, a white domed building big enough to see from far below. It made sense to me that a man made structure had to have some way up to it. Too bad I had no idea how to find that.

So I started following the cold creek upward. Downward wasn't an option to me. It meant losing time in climbing and it was a matter of time before it was noted that I was gone. I left a note behind, yes a note. And in it I stated that I couldn't handle the fighting anymore, that I was leaving and didn't want anyone to come looking for me. I even said I would kill myself if they tried. Yes, I was a very depressed and hurting kid. I truly didn't feel I had anywhere safe to turn between my stepmother and a year of bullying in school. Studies now show that our autistic kids (and other special needs) are bullying magnets. I know this to be true from experience.

But, back to the story at hand, I followed the creek and for some time, I had very little trouble balancing on the rocks and even managed to hop across to easier sides a few times. I did great until I came to the waterfall. It wasn't severely high, head level to me for that matter. But there was no way around it. The banks were straight up and down walls of dirt at this point, easily twice my height. It was composed of giant boulders embedded in the earth and the waterfall part was about three feet wide. No choice at all. I searched for handholds and foot holds. I tried to grab on to the smoothed ledges and put my foot up on another below. I pushed myself and promptly slid and fell backwards. I barely caught myself before crashing to the rocks and water behind me.

I admit a feeling of panic at this overbearing obstacle, but I tried again. I managed to reach up to a flat spot that I could set my little suitcase. I pulled myself upward with some struggle and cold water flooded my pants. When I finally got a foot up on the top of the water fall and pulled myself up, I felt quite a sense of achievement, but also of wet and cold. I had reached a new plateau, but still couldn't climb out of the creek. I grabbed my little suitcase and started along the creek again. At this point I realized something. I was thirsty. Did I bring along a bottle of anykind for water? No.

You guessed it, I leaned down and drank that creek water from the snow runoff. It looked clear and it was very cold. Regardless of any risk I took, it was pretty refreshing. Then I spotted a long stick that looked just right for hiking. I grabbed it up and jammed it against the rocks and leaned on it a bit. My father used to carve walking sticks and taught me how to check for one that could bear my weight. I used to whittle on my fair share with my pocket knife. It bore my weight and a stought smack against the rocks, so it got the job. And off I went, little blue suitcase in one hand, stick in the other, and bright orange pack on my back. And, compared to so far, I hadn't faced anything yet.

Over the mountain, part one

I ran away from home when I was just 14. It was a very bipolar and yes somewhat Asperger's thing to do. Keep in mind that no one knew my conditions back then. And I didn't just run away once, but the first time was the most major and life threatening.

I didn't just pack a bag an run away to a friends house. I did decide I wanted to go to my mother's house in Fort Pierce, Florida. But I didn't hitch hike, no I felt that would be too dangerous. Instead I thought I could walk the days, hide out at night and go the entire 2400 mile trip that way. And I started off by hiking over the Wasatch mountain front.

The Wasatch mountain range stretches about 160 miles from Utah's north border southward. The hike took me two days and I made it ten miles, up over the mountian and into the town of Morgan on the other side.

I left to escape my stepmother and her abuse, yes I was rather desperate and severely depressed. I felt no safe haven, so I left. But this isn't to get into the details of her.

I thought I planned it pretty carefully. I would leave on the first day of summer vacation, very early before anyone got up in the morning. Well, I had to wait for Dad to leave for work, he would be up the earliest. I had this little blue flower pattern suitcase and a bright orange hunters backpack. I put some clothing and what I thought were essentials into them. I took my yearbook, a few comics, pencils and a notebook. I also packed in some home canned fruits into the backpack. I didn't stop to consider that going over a mountain with glass jars wasn't the brightest of ideas.

I had most of what I needed ready to go as I lay in my bed and listened to Dad go through his morning ritual. I even heard his old white pickup rumble out of the driveway. Then I went into action. I gathered up my things and headed out. I was so sure that the shortest way to anywhere was a straight line and thought it would be quite an adventure in the process.

Getting to the base of the mountain took longer than I anticipated. The mountains are so large they make themselves look closer than they really are. But I got to them inside of an hour. Then I found paths to lead up through the brush oak at the base. Now it really looked like it would be an easy trip, after all, there were hiking trails. Hiking trails are a good thing right?

Spring runoff was still in full run, meaning that snow up top melted and filled little streams running down the mountain. They then feed creeks and small rivers out to the Great Salt Lake.

I came across a campfire at a point in the path that spread out to a circular clearing. It still smouldered, telling me I wasn't alone on the mountain. The black dirt path led around a corner of sorts and started to follow one of those little streams up ward. The path became narrow and the dirt loose. About twenty feet below the creek bubbled away. I looked up the path and thought it didn't look too bad and started along it. I made it about ten steps before the path fell away from under me.

Destroying Lives

In this post I want to talk to you about stigma and discrimination. These are just words, but they carry the power to destroy lives.

Stigma is a negative attitude toward any given characteristic of a person. This is often a broad and community issue fueled by discriminatory behavior of even a few and belief in untruths about those characteristics. Stigma is considered to be a negative portion of discrimination.

Discrimination is the treatment or consideration of a group by way of class or category rather than individual merit. It is the assumption that all persons of a particular class or condition are the same whether a negative or positive idea. Discrimination follows the ideas of stereotypes created by stigma in society.

There is an assumption that all people with bipolar disorder are dangerous or "crazy". The key to recognizing discrimination for what it is, is the broad and all encompassing assumption. The key is the word "all". It could be substituted with "every" or other similar words. This is how you recognize the falsehood that is discrimination. It is an unrealistic idea and belief in it hurts innocent people.

It just isn't possible for every individual with a medical condition to be the absolute same. Just like we have had to learn for race, religion, sex and age. So when are we going to learn?

I am going to use myself as my own best example once again. I worked in a career I loved dearly. I was an Animal Control officer and I was looked to with great trust and appreciation of my work for five years, until I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Suddenly, I could do nothing right. I was written up and threatened constantly with disciplinary actions. They were even taking steps to have me put before a comittee to have me even more punished and stripped of my rank. They even decided who they were giving that rank too, long before they got there. If you don't think that's ridiculous yet, try this; on my last review, a reason for me not to get a raise was that I was suddenly afraid of dogs. Never mind the hundreds of them that I had taken in regardless of their attitude or demeanor. Never mind that I handled some of the most dangerous animals the city had to offer. Suddenly and out of the blue, being afraid of dogs (which was not any part of city policy) meant I should not get a merit raise.

They lurked over my shoulder on the job and even took complaints they never would have given a thought of, to use against me. They accused me of being sneaky and trying to cover my tracks. Tracks from what? Oh they came up with all kinds of fantastic things. Things that you might take for granted on any given day, but may have been "construable" to appear against the rules.

I went to the Equal Opportunity Commission and it took them a full year past the time I had to give up my job. Why did I quit? Because my Union attorney said I was going to be fired if I didn't. The EOC did very little to actually investigate, they barely considered any paperwork I offered and didn't question a single one of my witnessess. They gave me a right to sue letter though. Very flimsy and gave me little chance of justice. After a year of searching, I found an attorney. We filed suit and after a great deal of paperwork a judge decided he just "didn't like it" so threw it out of court. See how they all line up for the same belief? Don't think so? How about the assumption that all city offices must be honest?

Yep, every single one worked in and lived in the same city and had practically the same beliefs. I was sunk before I even began. Now it's too late. I will never see justice. I suffered an immense breakdown before the discovery that I actually had Asperger's Syndrome which quickly explained everything they thought about me. Not that they cared, they didn't want a crazy person working for them. One of my therapists called what I suffered as "loss of identity". Now, because of them making all of my conditions worse with traumatic levels of stress, I will never work a normal job again.

Did I deserve that? Maybe I deserved a write up here or there, but not permanent disability. No one deserves that. So here I am, at my home in Wisconsin because I couldn't stay in Nebraska. And I can tell you that there are plenty who are treated this way for no justifiable reason who take their own lives. I almost did.

They are in my nightmares, to this day. Do you know that the laws on discrimination for mental disabilities do not accurately cover anyone who has them? You have to show that your condition actually disables you. Otherwise it is considered perfectly legal to discriminate against you and that is what they told me directly and word for word in Nebraska.

It's a good thing they don't do it like that for any of the other categories, otherwise you might have to prove that you are black enough or jewish enough to be discriminated against. Just an example folks. Think about it.

Education, it's the answer.