17Mar27 Art Organisation post and Actual Blogging

Yo, so beyond the ongoing Financial Crises of 2016/17 academic year (no, I’m not a student anymore, I’m a graduate now. But this place’s lease is on an academic year calendar, so we liable for rent until June) I’ve signed onto a crap ton of art trade – contest posts.

Art Organizing

So for my reference and yours, here they are all

  1. http://precisemoon.deviantart.com/journal/Art-Contest-500-in-prizes-EXTENDED-655804867
    I’m gonna draw Louise in a cute chibi pose AFAIK / AFAI can think of)
  2. http://cutesia.deviantart.com/journal/100-WATCHER-CONTEST-OPEN-CHANCE-TO-WIN-PTS-669355760
    Prob do 2 for this one. One for Emi and one for Alice. I work Digital, and depending on time constraints, I might do full-body or just portrait (which I take to mean “indicative of the character’s personality” and / or “a view from head to above or below bust”)
  3. http://comments.deviantart.com/1/646954474/4355806221
    I will draw Edith to the best of my ability! Will be the most straightforward of my tasks, as they’re probably the closest to my usual. Still! CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

Huh. I could swear there were more than that? Eh. Whatever. Better off with less work on my plate.

Story from Last Time

Hi, I’m Devon. I’ve not forgotten about the story I was going to tell in my last post that then got way too long, so I cut it short. I spent the whole time building up this metaphor to accurately represent how I viewed the situation (and multiple times have similar such situations arisen).

I can’t remember which misunderstanding and huge emotionally traumatic distress I was going to discuss (I seem to cause a lot of them and / or they seem to keep happening around me due to other’s inaccurate and cruelly unrealistic expectations of me – god/s forbid I actually be right about something, ah? *breathe in, breathe out* Anyway) But let’s say it was … let’s go with just this last one.

(Nevermind this paragraph. I tell the whole story because I got into it. Enjoy! / Learn!) [I’ll do details next time (yeah yeah, cliffhanger / tune in next time but I genuinely am hungry and did mean to finish this art thingy and start editing the video, so. Plus that was before I started the metaphor in preparation for *telling* the story!) but the quick and dirty is:]

TW: suic*de mention and brief discussion, anxiety and depression symptoms briefly discussed, possible BPD / EUPD demonstrated.

Part A

  1. I am autistic. I will repeat this until the day I finally die.
  2. I am sensitive. Being bullied, harassed, and generally Sticking Out like a Sore Thumb will do to that to ya.
  3. I am more emotionally intelligent these days, and can recognize when someone’s behaviour upsets me more than I can tolerate.
    (you can probably start to see where this is going already)
  4. Not everyone cares to remember that I am autistic,
    what being autistic means, or that

    ‘not taking a disability as an excuse

    is actually just ableism.
    Except it’s been disguised as

    ‘I don’t see a difference !!1!1!’

    Again, full unpacking and break down (heh heh. Cuz I’m mentally ill, see?) in the next post. This is just to put something down so you’re not still waiting from whenever I last wrote.

  5. People, apparently, tend to assume the worst of me.
    Which would be upsetting if it weren’t just frustrating and disappointing.
  6. Now, combine all of these elements into the setting for a scenario where I, apparently, fuck up by asking not to attend a function
    where I know one individual (see #3) will be.
    How dare I, right?
  7. Notice there was no incoherent ranting about how this #3 person was awful, terrible, needed to die, or whatever the fuck.
    Literally just “I am not capable of handling their behaviour at this precise moment. I would like to not go. Maybe next time.” Thazzit.
    Although for the Interlocutor’s hemorrhaging neck at this point, I am loathe to forget that I was unclear. Apparently.
  8. Following a very short “Ah, I understand, I’ll see you later” type exchange, cue ShitStorm of Thankfully Could Be Worse But Still Isn’t Great proportions.
  9. Because, apparently, I was being rude*. And, apparently,
    asking not to go to a function
    where I know I will be unhappy, therefore I want to avoid it
    is tantamount to character assassination. (Ignoring of course, the next point)
  10. I won’t use exact words, to avoid being … unfortunately those exact words would be very helpful right now.
    But the interlocutor who relayed my messages (it was a private chat, btw?) to #3 person told me: they thought that I was being two-faced (by being honest?) and cruel (by talking to the interlocutor, who was the event’s host, FFS).

    It made sense to me not to ’cause a stink’ on facebook by renouncing my event invite without discussion.

    Aaand my discussion went public to the person it was about, regardless. Of course.

  11. So person #3 rages at me in a public chat
    – very understandably, I might add! No one likes hearing that someone doesn’t like the(ir behaviour. Them / their behaviour, for speech readers) –
  12. And the interlocutor point-blank refuses to take ANY responsibility for triggering emotional distress in both person #3 and me.
    And my partner, who was away and then had to deal with all this bullshit out of nowhere, to a lesser extent.
    And anyone else in the public chat WTF’ing really hard at this spontaneous explosion of anger and obvious emotional distress.

Turns out I was going to tell the whole story today. Ah well. I’ll split it into parts for readability because block text sucks.

Part B

  1. Next day, still nothing. Interlocutor talks it other with my partner and still admits fuck-all.(No Apology. Obviously.)
  2. Still maintaining their tarnished White Knight status as “They who shall never give in to Evil ™!” and that I was being unreasonable for daring to say anything negative about person #3 at all.
    (Cuz Interl’r and p #3 were good friends which a) I didn’t know, and b) didn’t affect the fact that they were still the host of the goddamn event shootmenow.)
    When how tf else was I supposed to answer “Why don’t you want to come anymore?” and “What about them causes you not to want to come anymore?”
  3. A literal secret agency spy would struggle to avoid answering such direct questions. I say autistically, displaying my autism. *Cough autistic* *cough* *COUGH*
  4. My memory gets a bit hazy at this point, but I think that night, or maybe it was – yeah, I think it was the same night, I tell Interlocutor it’s all their fault.
    (because there is factually no way around it. My messages were intended to serve as clear responses to the direct questions they asked regarding my nonattendance at their event. Their ignorance and refusal to understand autism is not my fault, but they made it my problem.)
    It goes about as well as you’d expect.
  5. Between metaphors, analogies, similes, and pained, PAINED communication, the anxiety of Just How Much [the interlocutor] Doesn’t Get It causes me to feel incredibly upset at the onset of a probable panic attack or anxiety or something.
  6. They White Knight ™ away, Respecting My Boundaries So Hard!!11! and
  7. relay this, again, to literally everyone who asks.
    Which, for once, may not have been a painfully dumb-ass move. Speaking personally, for my reputation in said group,
    it probably alleviated some of the presumed “OMG she’s such a biiiitch” (sic)
    (cuz I doubt anyone’d call me they or he. Seriously: variety, people. Spice of life)
    to have a record of trying to solve the damn problem. Again. Some more. Like I was trying to do anyway. But whatever.

So I haven’t reentered that discussion with them (singular: Interlocutor or plural: either of them, though I haven’t spoken to person #3 directly since the Public Chat Debacle) and I’m not particularly looking forward to it, should it ever come to pass. It probably will.

Because I can’t afford therapy after Tuesday (can’t afford therapy regardless of Tuesday’s session) and I can already feel the soul-sapping weight of debt, the DWP, and general ennui start to bear down on me.

But y’know. “Life isn’t fair”, right(?) </sarcasm>

Why the monikers and paraphrasing, instead of names / nicknames and quotes?
Quite frankly, I don’t need the ajada.I’ve asked for help online and it did not end well. How dare I talk about traumatic events for me, right? Bloody injunction without any goddamn courts’ involvement at all!
(even with totally obscured names? Like, I called them Person A and B etc., so IDK WTF their problem was. I was, again, literally just asking for help because I was autistic and upset. They eventually got angry with me in a private room after I’d written them a letter and cried afterward. Again, muddled. I heard muddled memory was a symptom of PTSD in some people. I’d get that checked out, but y’know: defunded NHS. — This was in A Levels.)

Point is, I’ve repeatedly been told that my behaviour is ‘unacceptable’ to others, when it seems perfectly acceptable for others to harass me. It’s unfair as shit.

Why include the story at all?
Because I just said I won’t be able to afford therapy. (Again, can’t)
And while I’m buying groceries on a credit card, this blathering-on stops me thinking about how to induce death without chemical poisoning
(notoriously low ‘success’ rate, apparently. Not that I’ve been researching or anything. Although if I had been, I’d tell you options are incredibly limited, especially here in the UK / Europe. I’ll cut it there.)

By the way, the juiciest part of this story isn’t the story. It’s the fucked context in which I was yelled at — for being myself and trying to accommodate others’ comfort by removing my potentially problematic presence from an outing I would not enjoy. Or, in the case of the A Levels example, I was yelled at for

  • a) describing an incident with a ‘friend’ that escalated after he insisted I pick up his money after he (accidentally) threw it at me and I (intentionally) threw it back. Except I’m a good shot, apparently, and hit his face. This was not the first time someone had thrown something at me, soooo…. y’know.
  • b) realizing my other ‘friends’ never asked how I was or if I was okay, and generally ignored me after that. Even when ‘friend’o (friend-oh for speech readers) started ranting about me loudly at surrounding tables.
  • c) posting a letter I’d written to the deputy head (vice principal) online, asking for critique / if I’d said anything wrong.
  • d) some point after this, the online stalking and creepy messages started. Cuz, y’know. That’s how mature people resolve conflict, right? You go right up to them, and store information over an extended period without their knowledge or consent, and eventually explode in anger at them while they’re still confused AF and come to realize they’ve been duped by their ‘friends’ far worse than ever the original issue with the whiny, clumsy kid.

God(s) for-fucking-bid an autistic person DARE mention that their COMMUNICATION DISORDER be even possibly relevant to DISORDERED COMMUNICATION.

Therapy. I would like money for therapy, please. More than food or rent (I do have a place to go, but will still be liable for rent up thru June), I need therapy. I have so much — Anyway. Again. Next post. The context of the above stories will be revealed in detail.

Thanks for Reading,

Mx Dozana (I’m Devon, nice to meet you)

Post Script. That donate link again is https://paypal.me/MxDozanaArt. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask / offer the link if I didn’t need it.

Alternatively, if you want my art for your money, you can commission my services or patronize my Patreon.
PM / DM me or comment if you want more info about why my finances are in such a mess. (Spoiler: the government hates poor people, students, disabled people, immigrants, and non-Tories. Uh-oh, I finally won the lottery(!) </sarcasm>)


Author: mxdozana

Autistic Physicist Artist AD(H)D'er. Person who lives in the UK. I am anxious, depressed, was dx'd OCD as a kid but who knows if I still meet the criteria now. I like anime and video games, as well as cats, Zelda, Elder Scrolls, science, neuroscience, math, linguistics, art, cats, music, and cats. ... Cats are my thing.

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