Author Archives: melissaautisticfields

About melissaautisticfields

Hi, i am a middle-aged autistic lady who lives on the Central Coast of CA. I love to draw, write, read, and also love all kinds of rock and alternative music. I love to travel, but haven't gotten to in a long time..would love to be able to see NYC, the East Coast and the Great Lakes states someday. I am writing a book about my life as an autistic, and i hope to get it published. I am not perfect, but i do have a deep faith and feel that without God, i am nothing.

I’m Still Not Okay–It’s Not Okay To Shut Doors On An Autistic Adult Who Needs Your Help

I’m still not okay.

Ppl don’t realize that when your job is to help others, to protect and serve, and you deliberately shut the door on someone seeking help bc their head is literally being blown apart by bass so sonically loud it may as well be inside of my house on max volume, that you may of just re-traumatized that person when they already have trust and confidence issues with police. Because of the way i’ve already been treated by so many police officers.

I want to move far away from this town, its police, its redneck politics!!!

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A Perfect Autistic Hell

Please imagine what it would be like if you were sitting at your computer, you were a 57 year old autistic adult, and you were housebound, unable to go anywhere because of your legs,and on the other side of the wall behind your computer was an eight foot tall giant round steel encased subwoofer bass speaker turned all the way up, throbbing and thumping like louder than hell thunder right overhead..

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That is exactly what my entire afternoon was like yesterday.

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That is what noises that are sensory issues to an autistic person are like. Especially when the loud subwoofer bass was used as a weapon to terrorize me by the bullies in the auto shop two decades ago, along with their loud souped up motors on their motor vehicles, just because they have always felt it a sport to do the things they know will cause me to scream and yell hysterically, and in sheer agony, because to see me in agony is sheer fun to these men. And it still is sheer fun to them.

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This loud bass that i had to endure and suffer with all of yesterday afternoon, was actually three blocks North of my house at a park—and even though a sweet young female presenting police officer went over to that park to ask them to turn that bass down, they turned it up all the more,and they turned it even LOUDER as they were closing at five PM yesterday afternoon. In fact, this bass was still going on at 4 minutes after the 5:00 PM quitting time.

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I spent my entire afternoon in utter agony because of this bass. This bass was just like being forced to have my entire head squeezed into a tight grip to where i feel it is going to explode from the thunderous vibrations going on right inside of it. My ears get turned into vibrating mini subwoofers.

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It was only after that sweet officer came to my house to let me know they would be taking care to see to it that it didn’t get out of hand again, AND that they were going to be shutting it down at 5 PM, that i calmed down somewhat.

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My mom and i both kept calling the police to get them to stop this awful noise. My mom even told them she was afraid i would end up having a stroke, because i was Literally. That. Upset.

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Finally at 5:04 PM, when it was even louder, i called again.

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Only this time, the dispatcher transferred me to the watch commander. My hell became horror when a lieutenant who does not like me picked up the phone.

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I made the mistake of trying to talk to him. I began by telling him i am autistic, as he knows, that i was scared to speak to him, because i heard he was mean, and he became angry right away, telling me:

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“Is this about the beerfest going on at the park and the loud music they’re playing? if so, it is closing down, and you will just have to sit there and put up with it till they stop.”
I told him that it was louder than ever, it was unbearable, and what it was causing me, which was PAIN.
His response: “I don’t care, we’ve already sent an officer over, and we’re not going to send another one. You will just have to put up with the noise till they stop.”
I asked him “Don’t you understand autism at all?”
He got angry again: “Look, i’m not going to sit here and argue with you—”
Me: “I’m not trying to argue with you. I am trying to educate you about autistic people and what it’s like—”
He cut me off: “I don’t need to be ‘educated’! I already know what i’m doing—-”
I said: “But i am trying to make more friends at the police dept.!”
Him: “I’m not here to be your ‘friend’! I already KNOW you, you have a long history of having problems at that address, and frankly, i have no time for your problems!”
Me: “Can’t you have any compassion? Police need to have compassion—”
Again he cut me off: “Look, i don’t HAVE to have ‘compassion’ on anyone, and i don;t have any compassion on you. I’m not going to do anything to help you. I am hanging up now.”

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CLICK!!!!

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I have been one hot mess ever since that awful exchange with that police monster—-which is just what he is. People like him, and dispatchers who are also shrill and rude, are the reason why we become afraid to call the police, or to even say hi to them and smile at them when we see them. It affects me on all levels, and deeply when people are rude, dismissive, shrill, harsh, and try to silence me and invalidate my feelings. I literally feel i don’t matter anymore when i get treated and talked to like that lieutenant treated me.

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People like him have no business getting promoted to police lieutenant, or being allowed to interact with the public, if they cannot have compassion and know how to treat others like human beings.

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The way he treated me and muzzled me and completely invalidated my agony, was nothing but inhumane, and it has caused me terrible PTSD flashbacks all night long.

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The Santa Maria Police Department should be ashamed of themselves for allowing their officers to treat the people they are hired to protect and serve like we don’t matter.

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They should not promote officers who are known to have a negative attitude. Period. Full stop.

Understanding Autism

Please read. For anyone coming to my blog for the first time, and who wants to understand me and other Autistic people, this is a must-read, from my friend, Alex Forshaw. 🙂 ❤ ❤ ❤

My Autistic Dance

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This is based on a presentation I gave to colleagues where I work today titled Understanding Autism. Although not a transcript, the text here is based on my detailed speaker’s notes.

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In this house – and outside too!

Thirty Days of Autism

In this house we do acceptance ❤️
… and we do acceptance outdoors as well!!

I have had numerous requests to create an alternative version of the “In this House” image, so that it works for those who related to and loved the message of acceptance, but are more connected and rejuvenated by being in the woods or wilderness or just generally outside.
Here it is!
Yay!!

Image : Text in a variety of font styles and sizes reads: “In this house we do parallel play – We give each other space – We have time to delve into our own interests – We unashamedly spend a tonne of time outdoors – We stim like it’s nobody’s business (’cause it aint) – We love each other for our authentic selves – Because in this house we do acceptance!!” (Watermarked: Thirty Days of Autism: Leah Kelley)

As always, you are welcome…

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Medicaid is a Disability Rights Issue

Yes, this!!!
Mitch McConnell and all his fellow Republican cronies need to read this and look at the pictures of these people……me and my disabled friends are real human beings.

We too live in America, which is supposed to be The Land Of The Free.

We have the same right to Life, Liberty, and The Pursuit of Happiness as all of those who want to decimate us by taking the only service we have that allows us to be able to live independently and be a part of the communities we live in.

Just because we cannot work, does not mean we should have to suffer and die.

We WILL suffer and we WILL die if Medicaid is taken from us.

To Mitch and Co. when you read this, i hope this helps you all to find your heart.

Running with Crutches

Nearly once a week a conservative “friend” of mine writes something along the lines of “Yeah–cut back on Medicaid! No one should be living off the system.” I usually hide these from my newsfeed because I feel my blood boil. I am on Medicaid. About a quarter of my friends are on Medicaid. We all have one thing in common: we are disabled and require personal care attendants (PCAs) for daily life. I am amongst the more independent (at least physically) of my friends; I only need a PCA for an hour a day. Many of my friends require 24-hour assistance. If they cannot feed themselves or use the bathroom by themselves, having a PCA is not an option; it is a necessity. For me, having a PCA costs $35 a day, but for many it is exponentially more. The heartbreaking reality is that some of them do not qualify…

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A New Appeal-June 2017

Myself in our yard-summer 1975

My current situation is a Catch 22 wherever i turn. Not enough money. Not enough money. Never enough money. So, i am stuck here, in a place i hate, a place that is a prison, and a torture chamber, and an endless daily nightmare i wake up to every single day.
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I am a 57 year old Autistic adult, who is no longer in good physical health. I now suffer from very limited mobility, and it now very hard for me to walk, get in and out of cars, i can no longer drive, and can no longer take care of myself, so i have a caregiver, which is pad for by Medicaid. I am now housebound, and only get out because i have a caregiver who drives a car that i can get in and out of okay. I have never been able to work either, so i have spent my entire adult life since high school, surviving on very meager government benefits to get by all of this time.
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I need my Medicaid, mainly for the in home care i rely upon just to be able to keep all of my basic needs met. Without Medicaid, i would go hungry, and be without a way to keep myself clean, and my house clean, and i would be without heat, hot water, and electricity too. I would be all alone, lonely, and stranded. I would be forced to go live out the rest of my life in a nursing home, because i have no family support.
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My mom helps me by paying for my TV service, internet and phone, plus vitamins—-but when my mom passes away, then i am completely on my own, and will lose those things—-things that keep me connected to the outside world. Things that keep me a little bit healthy. Things that allow me to maintain friendships within the Autistic/Disability community on Facebook and Twitter.
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I have no family support from anyone else in my large family, besides my mom and one other sister who lives way out in the boonies of hot dry Arizona. I won’t move to Arizona, because the heat will kill me, literally, because of my physical health condition.
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Here are some things that the sister who lives with my mom has actually been telling me, posting these, because this illustrates the lack of support i have family-wise, plus their cruelty towards me—-also why i am not free to just go to Idaho and move in with my mom—-this sister lives with my mom—-Trigger warning for ableism—-
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“Gem” one—-My sister—–“I understand and respect your autism. But, and not being mean, and maybe cuz I’m feeling my age now, I hope that when you say you’re getting on a bus and leaving that state that it isn’t here that you’re coming. Not that I don’t care, cuz I do. I would probably have a stroke now though–my health is now as brittle as a fall leaf on a limb and the first strong wind (your meltdowns) will blow me to smitherings (lol) (not really funny though cuz it’s unfortunately the truth). (I couldn’t handle your music either 😉 (really). I agree, though, you do need to be moved, to a quiet place/street, and Mom needs to sell (those houses)………..just don’t know where though. 🙂 🙂 :)”
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Then this long “gem” she wrote me, and sent me links to agencies that she knew i had tried time and again, that she and i both knew would not help me this time either….Trigger warning for ableistic bad mental health slurs, and for calling Autism a mental disorder…… :
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My sister again—-
“ I’m not fed up with you, I’m just 61 going on 70 real fast and feeling it healthwise. But the night time calls aren’t really that good for Mom’s health-sleep-need either. So I spent some time yesterday afternoon and this a.m. researching places where you might find someone to call dispatch for you during the night and the following three were the best I found, but I’ll keep looking if you want–just let me know:
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California Nami for one has all kinds of advocates
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The next idea is so “HOT/COOL” and the Santa Maria Police Dept. is really supportive of the Neighborhood Watch Programs and I’ll bet they’d love having one on (your street).–can’t you just picture the Neighborhood Watch signs on your street? 😉 I love it!!!!! I really love this idea!!! Your new neighbor, E, might really appreciate having this program on the street too 🙂
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Neighborhood Watch
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Now don’t get upset by the next idea, as I’m not referring to you as a psycho but they offer a 24-hour crisis phone number and isn’t your Social Security disability based on your autism which was categorized as a kind of mental handicap? Anyway check out the following too:”
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(She sent me a link for a local Telecare mental health daycare program that i used to try to get help from when i still wasn’t sure where i fit diagnosis wise)
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Gem #3 that she wrote:
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My sister—–
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“ The only reason our phone is on during the night is in case someone in our family, including you, has to go to the hospital.
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Please find someone else to call dispatch for you, like one of your Facebook friends.
Otherwise, we’ll have no other choice but to turn off our phone at night, or I’ll be the one going to the hospital 😉
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Then this, also from that sister——this too is full of ableism, so yes, trigger warnings—–
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“I thought we pulled **** St. off the market so you and Mom could re-think your options because things were happening too fast and you guys weren’t prepared? Renting *** is dumb because right now it’s “show-for-sell-perfect” and Mom definitely won’t have the money to fix it up again if the renter’s wreck it.
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Also, we need to consider Mom’s “huge” credit card debt. If Mom dies, her creditors are going to immediately look into what she owns that they can attach their claws/liens to. This year we took care of this home, but your residence is still something her creditors can possibly attach and force a sale on.
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You guys really need to sell *** St. and you need to move into something that’s secure “for you,” that is either your’s or where the money off the sale of *** St. has been set up for you so you’ll be okay for several years. The money won’t cause you to lose your Social Security or Medicare. You can win the lottery and still keep your Social Security and Medicare. Duh 😉 You’ll only lose your MediCal. Big whoop! No big deal.”
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(Ummm—-no big deal???? I’ll lose my in home care if i don’t have my Medicaid, JFC!!)
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She went onto say—”Another idea: In 11 months, on your next birthday, you’ll be eligible to live, “in your own home,” in one of the wonderful 55+ communities (and many are not that expensive).
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Mom & I have even been considering such communities. In those communities you won’t have to worry about children, wild teenagers, dumb hot-rodding 20 to 40 year olds, or wild noisy neighbors or parties. Those communities are regulated by associations to keep things “nice” and peaceful. The sale off of *** St. could buy you a place in one of those communities plus leave lots of money left over.”
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Then she proceeded to send me a link to a mobile home park that is located in a VERY unsafe section of Santa Maria.
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This house itself that i live in and the cottage next to it—my mom owns both places—-is a money pit that still:
*needs full re-plumbs,
*my bathroom needs to have the floor ripped up, and a whole new sub-floor put in, then new tile, and a new toilet,
*I am sure much of the electrical wiring is not up to code
*I badly need a shower that is truly accessible—my current tub shower is not, even though i do have a transfer bench—it is still hard for me to get in and out of my shower *It is on a raised foundation, so there are three steps to both my front and back entrance that are now hard for me to navigate
*Both houses also badly need to be painted both inside and out—– —–so, if my mom were to sell this duplex as-is, she will not be able to get alot of money from the sale, because it is a fixer upper.
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I have no views here, just a small patch of lawn, small patch of blue sky, then asphalt, concrete, and then rows of ugly tin buildings to look at. I rarely get to hear any birds singing. I see no pretty flowers either.
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I need a way to get out of here to a place where i know i will be happy and where i will have more local friends, and supports than i have here. I won’t be able to do this unless i can at least get a way to get these houses fixed up and repaired, so that my mother can sell them for a good enough price.
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Being an Autistic middle aged adult, i am in hell on all levels because of where i live.
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I badly need to get away from here because of the constant sensory hell i am in due to the daily constant, all day long up and down, down and up loud traffic—-people hot rod and race through here constantly, which IS screamingly and roaringly loud, and top of that, they like to amp up their car stereos to where the bass is atrociously thunderous.
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I have no real way to truly buffer this noise—–and it has worn me down physically. In addition, i have had a long string of bullies in both the businesses and residents, who have seen my meltdowns, and instead of having compassion, they add to it, by doing just what they know will trigger me, so they can hear my screams and cries of sheer agony.
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I would be grateful and content to live here if it was not for the loud noise, the bullies who are still here, and the fact that these places need so much fixing up.
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I don’t know where or how to fix this never-ending pit of hell that i seem trapped in. I wish someone would read this who would have the means to help me to finally be able to not just get away from here, but to finally be able to have a dream i have had since i was a child, of living in the New England area—preferably near some of my Facebook friends.

We Weren’t That Resilient

Yes. This.

Maureen O'Leary

In response to the bell ringing that kids these days aren’t resilient the way their parents were growing up in the Wild West of the seventies and eighties suburban American neighborhoods and schools: I call bullshit.

We weren’t that resilient.

Those of us growing up in the seventies and eighties were not tilling Victory gardens and whittling useful things out of sticks that we found on the ground. I know. I was there.

I can only speak to my own experience, and trigger warning, I’m not prone to nostalgia.

Yes, we played outside with the neighborhood kids until the streetlights came on.

It’s true we didn’t have iPhones. We weren’t texting or addicted to screens.

We didn’t expect our teachers to give us A’s.

We drank from the garden hose when we were thirsty.

And it got pretty Lord of the Flies out there in the neighborhood and schoolyards before the streetlights came…

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