In Absence of Memory – Treasures

I was very, very young when I got my first jewellery box. Like many young girls at the time it was a smallish box, covered in satin and when you wound the “key” at the underside of the box then righted it and opened – a ballerina appeared, spinning, as the music box played a familiar tune. Mine had a very delicate tutu. I wanted to be a ballerina back then. I even took a few lessons.

Over the years the jewellery boxes have come as birthday presents, as Christmas presents, from friends and relatives alike. They’ve been small, they’ve played tunes and not – they’ve been grand and had many sliding drawers and doors with glass that opened and closed. And they’ve been simple too, an eclectic mix but all loved for many different reasons.

(all the pictures in this entry will open to their fullest size in a new window when clicked)

Jewerley box

Jewelry Box – Simple on the outside but on the inside…

I don’t quite remember where ↑ this ↑ particular one came from, and I don’t remember how it got to where it was when I pulled it from the depths of a clothes drawer that hasn’t even been accessible in a very long time. But as soon as I saw it a few days ago, I yelled out loud and hugged it.

Treasures revealed

Treasures revealed

And when I opened it? Oh my, how can I explain the collective sensory explosion that took me over? My eyes unable to rest in one place for more than a few seconds…is that? Oh my! I haven’t seen that since? When did I see that last?!

It took me a few minutes to even touch anything inside. I felt an almost reverence towards the chaotically placed contents. I wanted them to rest a bit longer in place before I went to stage 2 of sensory exploration – touch.

Bunnies and FlowersKey chains and bracelets

With each touch of a necklace, a brooch, obviously 80’s earrings, I was granted access to pieces of myself that I didn’t even know were lost. My memory loss has been a bit of a mystery to me. Not how it happened, that part is perfectly understandable though it’s taken me a while to really see the extent of it which is also understandable.

Necklaces

Necklaces! I made the Dream Catcher on the bottom left side.

The mystery is in how I am not as panicked as I thought I’d be. I had a spectacular eidetic (also known as photographic) memory most of my life. I was always worried about what it might be like to lose it. But it turns out you might not stress what you don’t remember, or at least that’s what I’ve come up with so far.

Watch

From a trip taken to Prince Edward Island in the early 1990’s this watch became a constant companion for many years. Lennox Island First Nation is a Mi’kmaq Community located in Malpeque Bay off the northwest coast of PEI.

Always looking to see the big picture this has come just when I needed it. What plagues my memory has after 3 (of course) years started plaguing me in many other ways. I have no problem saying I have Epilepsy, I’ll tell the story of how that came to be but I have yet to accept and understand it. Impatient with my lack of progress my  body started forcing the issue on its own about 2 months ago with the return of seizures in the form of Simple Partial. 3 (ha!) days ago (I really do NOT mindfully plan this stuff) I have (wait for it) 3 Simple partial seizures in 12 hours.

I wish I would have written down just how much I messed up a sentence (spoken) yesterday. When I was asked to repeat it and I “heard” what I said I decided to laugh instead of cry for how scrambled my brain is right now.

This picture has the least amount of items and carries some of the largest meaning

This picture has the least amount of items and carries some of the largest meaning. (L-R) I helped to design the Pin to represent the Hubbards Area Lions Club Cenotaph in 1985. A simple “P” pin from my Grandparents when I was quite young, ticket stucb for Van Morrison concert 1998, a pay stub from the late 1980’s and the key to my first ever car, a 1987 Toyota Tercel.

My creative process however remains a near mystery to me. This started out as me taking 1 picture to post on twitter. The creative process is intrinsic to who I am and through it I heal, I grow, I change when change is called for. Not always easily, mind you. Rarely in fact.

Granddad Treasures

My Grandfather’s Treasures (l-r) Sears, Lions, Legion, Lions and Navy.

The simple box contained a treasure trove of memories that span decades. The far back reach of that span is what makes this discovery particularly appreciated right now. Many of these objects take me back to a time before I was married. After 23 years of marriage you get a wide view of things. Marriage is not easy and rarely properly prepared for. With so much of my 46 years wrapped up in this union (been together 27 of the past 30 years) and with so many of my memories lost or maybe just missing, I don’t have a lot of me any more. And when I go back that far to find me? That kid was diagnosed as Manic Depressive by the time she was 15. She was in a lot of trouble, very little of it by her intended guidance and mostly just a fight to survive moment to moment.

Earrings

An eclectic collection of earrings – I yelled out loud with joy seeing some of them.

Touching, seeing, smelling, these pieces of my history is like a belated birthday gift from someone who you thought forgot – but it was just lost in the mail. It’s allowing me to colour in shaded pieces of my past that have been greyed out for a while now. Gifts from the past that have become gifts once again. Their meaning and personal wealth, doubled. They aren’t worth anything monetarily which makes them priceless to me. The attachment strictly emotional and if physically lost now tucked away safely in my heart and soul forever.

Brooches

I sat back and looked at this assortment and all I could think was wow. Apartment keys, Grandmother’s brooches, the elastic bands to my braces for my teeth!! Guitar pick, bracelets, lost marbles 😉 Key chains. What a gift this rediscovery this has been.

I akke the effort for you

This entry is dedicated to Stella Young. Through her Tedx talk I found my way to writing this entry, which is something I’ve wanted to do but just couldn’t let go of that last bit of fear.  Thank you Stella. Rest Peacefully ♥

 ⊕⊗⊕

Why has “this” ↓ not been named yet?

You are losing an online argument and the person makes a spelling or grammar mistake. You grab at the chance to take a swipe at your opponents intellect by pointing the spelling mistake out and….

YOU MAKE AN ERROR AS WELL.

The percentage of this happening must be darn impressive!

I don’t play those games because I’d always lose and in observing these exchanges of communication I’ve become acutely aware of how mean people can be about spelling and grammar.

A few years ago I found a really great article that deals with literacy privilege.  Literacy privilege?  I know, right? That uncomfortable feeling though is what we need to push past to have a better understand of the life of others.  And when I did that I found all sorts of great information and learned more about accommodation and how to strike a balance between myself and others.

Here’s the link to that article.↓

⊕ Literacy Privilege: How I Learned to Check Mine Instead of Making Fun of People’s Grammar on the Internet

I woke up today and worried about the fact I hadn’t written anything here in a while. It’s a lot of work and I have been especially drained. Ever since the EEG at the end of March I have been having Simple Partial Seizures.  I didn’t understand what they were for a few weeks and then when I did I went to see my family Doctor and things went from there. I’ll write about that experience in a separate entry.  They are under control now though, I should mention. Just under 2 weeks seizure free but it was daily, so much better.

(edited to add: had more seizures after the publishing of this article. As of June 29th, 2015 I have just over 3 weeks in. Really hoping this is the start of another long run of seizure free living.)

I’ve really come to understand that I have no control over my creative muse. Today’s turnaround from “what could I wrote about” to here is quick even for me 😀

I did something today on facebook, spontaneously. (and not) Not because I’ve thought about doing this many times and spontaneously because, well, that one is self explanatory!

There are several comorbid (occurs together but can occur separately) conditions on the Autism Spectrum. Mine started to be picked up fairly early, considering where I live and the information available. Epilepsy developed later in life, though I am seeing where the signs and some symptoms have been there for years.  The 2 I am going to write about today are Dyslexia and Dyspraxia.

The comorbid conditions to the Spectrum are really what cause most of it not all of the problems we have. This is where the struggle lies. This is why more and more “voices” of older Autistic adults like myself in the community are asking people to move past awareness and onto acceptance. Please!

So today I opened facebook and started typing about this issue and part way through I realised something. I wanted to finally show you a part of me that I go to great lengths to accommodate others for. I started to wonder, what if I allowed myself to be accommodated? What if I didn’t correct the visual effects of Dyslexia and Dyspraxia for others all the time? Would I still be understood? Made fun of? Will it lighten my load just enough to make my life just much easier? Only one way to find out.

Please know that I do not expect or am asking that my particular set of learning disabilities or issues be the only ones to be accommodated or the standard for anyone else. Some people cannot read words written without some attempt at correction or without punctuation because their brain doesn’t allow without tremendous effort, if at all. I’m no more deserving of accommodation than they are. I’ve just lived in such shame for so long about this and I don’t think I or others like me should any more.

Here’s we go…

Ive thought about doijg this fora vwert long time. Eahc time I do, or start I get too scared. Each tme I show who I rruly am it hurts me more than it jhelps me in teh outside world, so I keep it to myself.

(I’ve paused, this makes me fel such shame and I’;m tire dof feleinghame)

There are sevral co=morbif conditions on the Autism specturm and I have my share,. But teh 2 I’m hightling here are duyslexiua and dyspraxia.

Yes, this is ehat it looks like beofr eI make it so YOU can undrtsand me. Not only do I struggle throuhg this, I then have to corrct it all and hope i find most of it. This is what teh words that make you laught and cry look like before you read them.

Soetimes I dont; even know what I was trying to say.

Sme days tis is much worse and some days beter. This is a medium day.

On hard days I get angry and cry. I eranse it all and you never knwo wat I wanted to say. O hard sdya not only do i have toruble trpying, I have troreubel verbally communicating too.

Communicatiin is many, many things. It’s not just vernbal, or written and those who only acept those as lefitmate foems of summunication are harmign those of us who nees to communicate in other ways as well.

I works hours, sometimes days at the written thigns I share. You can;t see the effort I kae to reach YOU – so today U am givign you asmall poeek into my pecturm world.

Ironivally, those of us who have the most diffuculty with the norms of socirty works the hardest to accomidate those who don’t really needs it.

I want thyat to change.

If you think less of me after this, it’s a meansure of who youare as a persion, not me.

I’m mot correcvitn this – you figire it out – you expericne a small, small part of what it is like to be me.

 I akke the effort for you – can or will you make it for me?

(Facebook says yes! The amazing respone is why I decided to bring it outside of that platform to this one.  Thank you for your kindness!)

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