face blindness

Posted on in Autism

I have a terrible time recognising people’s faces. I don’t know if I’ve always had it, or it developed later in life. I can recognise people from photos really well, but if I see someone IRL out of context I might think ‘that person looks a bit like xxx’ and not give it a second thought. Or not even clock them.

I’ve had it where I was talking to someone for ages and then the next day they wore a different tshirt so my context had gone and it was only when they spoke and I heard their voice that I recognised them. My voice recognition is strong at least – I saw someone I hadn’t seen for 20 years and wasn’t sure if it was them, and as soon as I heard her voice I knew instantly. And then worried she had recognised me and thought I was ignoring her. But no, she knew exactly who I was but hadn’t clocked me before. Maybe she has the same thing ;)

Last night I had the opposite, where someone looked quite like someone from work, and I was convinced for ages it was him but why was he ignoring me, maybe he was annoyed that I’d found his secret place to dance. Is it him, isn’t it him? Couldn’t work it out. Had to keep persuading myself that it wasn’t. And then at the end of the evening I heard his voice and instantly then saw his face differently somehow, and could tell well of course it wasn’t him, his face looked so different.

It’s the reason I like to friend people on facebook, so that I have visual reminders of what people look like.

I’ve just done a web search and discovered it is common in autism. Well, best categorise this post an autistic one then!

Maybe it’s a reason why I struggled in the playground. I know when I was in secondary school I would recognise people quicker than my friends, because I was looking for the way they moved and their mannerisms, instead of faces, but I was shortsighted and didn’t wear my glasses all the time, so put it down to that. When I was younger I didn’t identify people by the way they moved so much.

Certainly explains why I have a need to know who will be places that we go. I met the other half in central London the other week, was needing to be out and he was meeting friends. Once I knew they were a group I didn’t know then my worry about who was going to be there vanished.

 

end of life

Posted on in Spiritual

One of my clients died recently. When I first met her, she was spirited and sweary, would often have conversations about her life and the crazy things she and her husband got up to over the years.  She gradually deteriorated over time, so slowly that you didn’t always realise things were changing until you looked back and realised what she used to be capable of and now wasn’t. In her final weeks it was a struggle to get her to eat anything, her favourite food became corned beef (I do not know if it always was a favourite) and so corned beef sandwiches and corned beef hash became a regular feature.  Her muscles were breaking down and her bones were becoming uncomfortable.  She was unable to follow a conversation, but was still responsive to some things (opinions over certain people, running jokes with her husband) so you could see she was still there underneath it all.  She was sleeping more and more.

The last day that I saw her alive I had the honour of caring for her. Myself and a colleague cleaned her and moved her onto an inflatable pressure relieving mattress, and while she was not visibly awake I talked her through everything that was happening. It felt like looking after Tansy again, when I would respectfully tell her everything that was happening to her as I was carrying it out. There was a nervous energy in the room when her husband left, and it noticeably relaxed and became happier when he returned. I was able to tell her husband this, I don’t know if he was able to take it in. As we left I had the urge to go and say goodbye, I could hear she was awake and talking to her husband, but I didn’t.

The next day, she came and talked with me. I was washing up and suddenly felt her presence, she told me that her soul was at peace and she was leaving, and thanked me for everything that I’d done. At this point I was unaware that she had already died, I didn’t learn this until the next day. I guess this means her soul hung around for a short while after she passed away. She died in familiar surroundings and her guides were there waiting for her, so it did not take long for her to understand what was happening. My heartspace is growing as I write and think about her. I think it was a good death, at the end.

Much love.

psychopomping

Posted on in Uncategorized

I got this funny feeling today. One of my clients is feeling close to the end, she’s been feeling that way for a week or two, but today I just knew. Her husband said she asked yesterday who the man was at the gate, and when he said this I had an image go through my head of someone standing waiting for her, biding his time. No rush, just whenever you’re ready to come with me. That kind of feeling. And when I mentioned this, he said he’d seen his dead mother walk past the foot of his bed. And he doesn’t believe in ghosts. I said it felt like souls were coming to help her transition across. And every time I talk about it I get tingles across my head and back. Just now they went down my legs.

I guess it’s just a matter of waiting to see when she’s ready to join the ancestors.

 

RSD – an example

Posted on (Updated on ) in Other

Less than 24 hours after being reminded about a condition called RSD  (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) I find myself in a situation where I get this triggered within me. Coincidence? I think not.

I was at a barbecue where I didn’t know anyone, and was driving so had no alcohol shield to hide behind. (I had taken some vegan ribs that I made a while back that were taking up room in the freezer. This is relevant for later. ) My social anxiety was going haywire, so I had an energy drink as stimulants often help. I was seeing danger everywhere, worried if I would mess up conversations. I successfully navigated a conversations about babies and breastfeeding, but ran out of steam. I attempted to engage with some other people but struggled a little. The energy drink helped, but not quite enough, so I had a small glass of wine. The anxiety began to melt away, and then further melted when someone arrived who I had met a year or so ago and been friends with on social media since, and knowing that we had a bunch of things in common began to get talking.

By the time I finished my glass of wine I was feeling very relaxed and sociable, and despite not having any further alcohol became very chatty and engaging with a number of people. I reached the point where I felt like I needed some food, and asked for some fire so that I could cook what I’d brought. So far so good. I began to get a little impatient with the flames and may have put my burgers and ribs on a little before the bbq was ready for them. Or I could just have been distracted, this is entirely plausible. I have never been great at cooking on a barbecue. So, some of the ribs got a little scorched. Never mind I thought, it will be fine. Popped them on a plate and tried one. Not as good as I remembered them, maybe it was my cooking or maybe they don’t freeze very well. Several other people tried them and found them to be amazing. Ok, maybe I’m just being hypercritical. And then, after most of them had gone, a young guy whose energy had made me feel uncomfortable earlier tried one on the suggestion of his vegan friend who had thought them great.

it is entirely possible that anything which came out of his mouth would have made me feel bad if it were directed at me and my creations, given how I felt at seeing him. But, it turned out he didn’t like it, and even when I made excuses that they had got burnt he didn’t say oh ok, I’m sure they’re great if they are cooked better, he still made horrible comments about them, telling me that I shouldn’t have bothered. Now, I’ve had nothing but compliments over this recipe for years, my other half adores them so much he remarked that they might have been why he fell in love with me. (In jest; he’d fallen for me before he tasted these, however it may well have cemented the deal.)

Anyhow, this one comment from this complete stranger made me feel like I wanted to leave. Now. He’d attacked me personally, by criticising something that I had created. Stabbed me in the gut and twisted the knife.  I hated how he’d made me feel, every time I looked over at him the feelings came back, even as I tried to push them aside. I left that area of the garden and found a hula hoop to move with. Someone complimented me on my hooping, and asked me to teach them how. I was firmly distracted by this person showering me with compliments. (I’d expressed that I’d not done it in over a year, she was amazed. I could hardly remember any tricks, and the ones I could were sloppy. She didn’t see the errors and stood in awe.) And yet every time I glanced over the stab in the gut came back. This, I realised, was the sort of comment that made people stop doing something that they love. This is the sort of person who has the power to make people question their worth. And I was determined to not let it happen to me, in this instance. I tried to push it away.

I told my boyfriend about the incident, he didn’t understand how I was struggling with this inability to let it go. He reassured me that my ribs were great. Shortly afterwards, the guy left. I breathed a sigh of relief but no, the feeling was still there! Dammit. I pushed it away.

Later, when we got home I was still annoyed about it. I tried visualising the situation, imagining what I could have done to make myself feel better. This is a technique that has worked for me in the past. I imagined becoming a fierce version of myself, telling him that he was an unkind mouthy little shit and needed to be taught some manners, but sigh, that didn’t work either. Though it did make me feel a little better. My boyfriend couldn’t work out why I was still bothered by him. Even though this is the sort of thing that affects him too.

So, the next day I was telling my colleague about the incident, still feeling the yuckiness in my gut trying to escape, and then talked with her about the possibility that the reason I was still holding onto it was in order to write about it, so that I could re-engage with my feeling at a later point. And then, when I got home, I realised that they had gone away. So, not sure if I’ve managed to capture the essence of how I felt, only time will tell. Perhaps it is a lesson for another time.