To my ex’s next girlfriend

Searching for peace. 

 

La version française de cet article est à retrouver ici.

It has been four months since my husband and I split up. My house is not yet sold. My ex-husband still leave there with half of our furniture. I drop my daugther off there every two week-ends. Every two weeks, I ring the bell of my own house, I say hi to my ex which sounds weird. When I get into the house, I feel like I am a stranger to my own life. I have a glimpse around and can recognize some familiar pieces of furniture, the doormat on which I used to wipe my feet after a hard day at work. Then, I firmly hug my daugther while automatically saying « see you in a couple of days, sweetheart » and I get back into the car. I drive away from my dream house, away from this fairy tale that I built brick by brick by means of huge efforts and hard work: a happy family, warm home, financial comfort, deep and inconditional love. After many weeks, I get used to drive away my own house,  feeling this intense sorrow fading away while pushing the gas pedal.

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F**k Aspergers

Sorry, this post’s title is rude but you know what? This is my space and I just want to shout loudly: f*ck Aspergers.

Today is one of these days when I’m tired of being an aspie. Being autistic defines who I am, what I can not do (a lot). Having Aspergers makes me exhausted all the time…

That doesn’t mean I don’t accept myself. I’d just like to press the OFF button to turn  my handicap off and feel free to be without thinking ahead how to avoid a meltdown or a shutdown.

 

Today is one of these days I hate being autistic. That’s all I want to say.

Fake autistic woman

I’ve been diagnosed as neuro-atypical 2  years ago at age 34.

I am not gifted (neither intellectually nor in sports or arts)

I don’t have a memory like an elephant

I do not live in a glass bubble (actually, I live in France)

I don’t lack  empathy.

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