Tag Archives: Autistic Acceptance

I Don’t Want To Be Alone Anymore

From two Facebook posts i made just now……

Post One

I had a VERY weird dream while i slept. it was a nightmare, in fact.

I dreamed that i was alone here. Connie had gone home. It was night, but strangely still light outside, and it was overcast, misty, and wet outside. In fact, the outside had the blue tint of dusk settling in when it’s cloudy and overcast.

Suddenly i saw a group of cars crowd outside where the appliance shop used to be, and all over the street. Then i heard a gunshot, followed by someone yelling in pain. Then another gunshot, followed by another yell from that person, who had a male voice.

I got scared, frightened, but couldn’t move out of my chair where i was sleeping. I was literally paralyzed in fear.

I finally managed to get out of my chair and use my computer chair to block my view so no one from outside could see me, and i tried my best to call 911. I got a male presenting dispatcher, but could not hear them.

Suddenly, one of the bad men came into my carport and began to banshee yell and kick the outer security door on the door to my middle room. He kept kicking the door and yelling. Then more of them came right into my yard.

I tried again to get 911 on the phone and couldn’t even get my words out.

I awoke from this dream at 11:32 PM, to find that my small alarm clock was blinking. Which meant i must of had a power glitch while i was asleep. My clock on my answering machine was fine, and my DR showed no interruptions in the recording of the two newscasts i record every night to watch when i wake from my after dinner sleeptime.

I have come to the conclusion that i don’t want to live alone anymore.

ESPECIALLY NOT HERE in this neighborhood where i do have neighbors who do NOT have my back at all….but neighbors who are mostly all either the type to not get involved, or they are the mean ones who torment and bully me.

I at least want to live where i have nice neighbors surrounding me who are the kind who will adapt me and actually look out for me, while i still live in my own house. Then it won’t be so bad living in my own house by myself.

I am ALL alone tonight, and yes, i am scared right now.

Post Two

I am really having a bad night tonight. My TV reception began cutting out, searching for satellite signal was coming on, TV screen pixelating and freezing,—-and it isn’t even stormy here—-AT ALL!!!!

It’s fine now, not doing it anymore—– but yeah—after the nightmare i just had, and discovering that my power had glitched while i was sleeping, well, everything is spooking me right now and yes, i AM all alone here, isolated with no one nearby in this neighborhood to call if i have problems—yes, i could call Connie if i have real problems, but i don’t want to ruin her sleep just because tonight i happen to be scared and need someone here to be with me because i am just scared.

I just don’t like how i am feeling tonight.

I want to cry.

I really do want to move where i have nice neighbors around me day and night who will care and look out for me. I don’t want to live in this aluminum hot rod and mean bully alley anymore.


Being Alone At Christmas-My Story In Posts

I am so not okay. A deep Christmas depression has set in, bc i am all alone today.
I hate it that i am all alone.
I hate it that none of my siblings even bother to send a measley Christmas card to me, let alone call me.
I can;t take the loneliness much longer…..
My sister and her family, one of the two with whom i am estranged from, moved to Idaho in March 1991.
My mom and dad moved to Idaho in April of 1996.
My other ex-nice sister moved in with my parents with her daughter, one month later.
My baby brother and his family moved to Idaho in 1996 as well.
My nice sister moved to Arizona in 2001.
My eldest brother moved to Idaho in 2004.
His daughter, my niece, moved in with them a few years later.
I have one brother left here in Santa Maria. His two grown boys live in Fresno and Bakersfield.
None of them except my mom and sister in Arizona, acknowledged me this year, and they never do.
my other ex nice sister used to email and talk to me all of the time too.
But now, even she has turned her back on me, bc she says her health is now so bad, my meltdowns would kill her.
I so wish with all my heart, another nice family would adopt me.
I cannot stand the loneliness i feel today on this Christmas Eve.
If you are reading this and you know of someone in your neighborhood who is a shut in and who will most likely be alone at Christmas, please go visit them, bring them dinner cookies, or just you so that they will have an actual person to talk to.
To all of you in my family who are afraid to interact with me because i may just have one of my meltdowns,  please know, for one, my meltdowns don’t just come out of the blue. There is always a reason for my meltdowns.
But none of you seem to even want to get to know your sibling/aunt. To find out that you don’t have to be afraid of me. That my #Autism is not so scary. To find out my being Autistic is not a bad thing. To find out that i am not wrong, a burden or damaged goods. I am just #Disabled.
That is why i told my story online. So all of my family would read, understand, and their hearts would soften. I also told my story so that others would understand that we Autistics have real stories to tell. That we are not the “behavior” problem you may think we are.
I invite you to Google Neurodiversity and #ActuallyAutistic. Google a blog called Autistic Hoya. You will get to know why i was the way i was as a child and teenager growing up in the Fields family. Maybe you’ll discover the sister/aunt you felt you never had in the process.
I want to add this to my blog….
I don’t always know the right words to say to a friend who is hurting, but by God, if i ever say anything that makes any of you feel invalidated, or like i am silencing you or being dismissive of you, PLEASE call me on it!
I know the holiday season can be, and is rough, even unbearably rough for many people, and it is for myself. I just want to let you all know, i hold you in my space. I witness your pain, and your hurt, especially if you are all alone, and maybe your family has shut you out. I witness you, and i validate that pain and hurt—-it’s not you, believe me, because you matter to those of us who are your true friends—-it is on those who made you hurt, those who made you feel excluded, dismissed, silenced and unheard.
I love you, my friends. I really do, and if you are hurting tonight, i am offering you hugs.   
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Holidays!   

An Open Letter To The US House Of Representatives

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Dear US House and Senate both,

Re: Tax Reform Bill

My name is Melissa Fields. I live in Santa Maria CA. This is my story.

I am 57 years old, and #Disabled. I am Autistic and also physically disabled due to debilitating hip, back, and knee pain, plus chronic lymhedema on both of my legs. In addition, I have a large lymphedema lump on the inside of my left thigh that is literally larger than the size of a basketball. It is every bit as firm as a basketball too. This greatly limits my mobility.

I am disabled by many Autistic sensory issues, to certain types of noise, touching certain things/foods, harsh lighting, certain music, and being around people when they are rude and unfriendly. I am also disabled because I can barely walk and badly need more than just my quad cane and walker to get around. I also have issues with executive functioning.

I have never been able to work at a job my entire life because my above disabilities have prevented me from being able to secure and keep a job.

I have lived on SSI, then Social Security Survivor’s benefits my entire adult life. In addition, I also depend on both Medicare and Medicaid for my healthcare, and in home caregiver that comes to help me six days a week.

In addition, the Olmstead Law has allowed me to be able to enjoy living in my own small cottage. My Section 8 Public Housing Assistance helps me so I can actually afford to pay my rent each month. A CARE discount that I get each month also allows me to be able to afford to pay my monthly utilities. I am proud that I have been able to live on my own without much undue hardship for the past 30 years of my life. Before my lymphedema got bad, I even drove and had a car from 1990 till 2012.

I am writing this on behalf of myself and all of my friends in the Disability Community who, like me, either cannot work, or who are going to school or through Vocational Rehabilitation, in an effort to gain employment.

I am writing on behalf of my Disabled friends who already are working, but still need help with healthcare, necessary medications, mobility equipment and personal care so they can keep their jobs.

I am writing this on behalf of all veterans who have fought for this country who need services.

I am writing on behalf of senior citizens who depend on Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, Housing, and other vital programs that help with their quality of life. And yes, I fall into this category now.

Please don’t let this tax bill become law the way it is written. If it does, you will be forcing all of us who are poor, Disabled, elderly, etc. into grave undue hardship, homelessness, and death. Many will have to drop out of school, and stop working, and those of us who cannot work, who depend on our social safety net for our very survival, will be plunged into utter devastation and despair. Many of us, like myself, have no family to help us if this should happen.

If i don’t have personal in home care, I will cease to live.

Please. I urge you to think of the millions of real human beings this tax bill will be hurting. Please don’t cut Medicare and Medicaid. or Housing. Or tax those of us who can least afford it.

I am all for tax reform—but only the kind of tax reform that is truly just and fair for ALL of us.Me on September 27, 2014-2

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!!!

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..


That is exactly what my entire afternoon was like yesterday.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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


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.


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:


“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.”




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.


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.


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.


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.


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



CW: This is not a fat shaming post. This is a Melissa health post, because i am perishing.

I slept all day today, and had nothing but nice travel dreams where i was traveling, by airplane, to the East Coast, and in the latest dream before waking up at 4 PM, i was traveling to Bloomington Indiana, a place i did once visit back in July 1983.

I so wish i still weighed at least 175 lbs again, with no leg problems, and could get another car and drive again—-and even fly places to go see my FB friends. I don’t need to be reed thin, just at least back down to between 175-200 pounds. That would get me back to a better place physically- functionality wise, to where i could do all of those things again. I know it would help the lymphedema in my legs too.

I want to repeat again: I am not fat shaming by saying what i am saying. My body is shutting down. I am shutting down. I can no longer function like i need and want to because i weight about 350 lbs now, and i have bad back, knee, and hip problems, as well as the lymphedema on both legs—-AND the huge lymphedema ROCK on the inside of my left thigh.

The lymhedema was caused by me not being able to sleep laying down anymore, but sleeping for 8 years, from 2004 to 2012, on a badly broken down living room sofa that bore into my left leg and thigh, especially. I would sleep sitting up, with my feet on the floor, which is bad for leg circulation.

In addition, i have always been, and sill am addicted to junk food to help keep me calm because of this hellish street i live on, stuck day in and day out, inside this house, because i never feel well enough to get in the shower so i can get out and about and get my hair colored anymore.

Having so few people actually care about me in real life—-(i do have my mom, one nice sister, Connie, and my Facebook friends, but no in real life local friends or family support other than my mom and one nice sister)—-has worn me, and my body completely down.

In addition—i have to endure day in and out, unbearable loud hot rodding and thunder bass noise right in front of my house on a street where the speed limit is 25 MPH.

I never get to go anywhere anymore because of my physical circumstances. It is even now hard for me to keep doctor’s appointments. It is getting harder and harder for me to even want to get out of my soft comfortable life chair anymore.

I am depressed all the time now, and don’t have the will to live anymore, so i am praying daily that either God lets me win the lottery so i can escape this toxic neighborhood, or for God to please take me—-because i cannot bear the way things are any longer.

I am an Autistic adult and i feel trapped with no way out of these circumstances.

I Am Autistic—Say The Word


One afternoon in April, i was upset, so i wrote a series of Vaguebook posts, and because i write when i am upset……and i mainly write to educate the general public about what it is like to be a middle aged adult who is Autistic so people will understand, get us, and accept us, i want to compile my vaguebooks all into a blog post.

What is it that helps flowers to blossom and bloom to all their glory? It is not yelling at them to grow already, and standing over them and forcing their peddles to unfold when they aren’t ready to unfold. And to be callous and cold with them. They need patience, actual warmth and affection, to be slowly and lovingly cultivated, and they need water, sunshine, and food.

For me, it is not being harsh and critical of me. And cold and callous. For me, i grow when i know i am truly accepted and when i am okay to be me. When it is okay for me to say “I am Autistic.” When i know my feelings, both happy and sad, and the ones that are painful too, are truly validated.

I don’t write to be mean and covert. I write whenever i cannot verbally say how i am feeling.
Post One.
“Trigger warning for the word stupid and the R word—and for also graphic depictions of child abuse
There is a valid reason why i have a chip on my shoulder as an adult.
It comes from growing up being told and made to feel
like i was all wrong all the time, every day, 24/7
that i didn’t have a right to my opinions
or to to say what i felt that how i felt, and i,
was just too weird
everything i ever did or said was
wrong, stupid and not good enough
being called the R word all the fucking time,
not just by the schoolkids but even by my own siblings
being silenced, muzzled, and having my feelings,
and me, always dismissed, invalidated and erased
being treated like my autism was/is a behavior
or that i use my autism as a shield, crutch, etc.
being told wrongly so that i was just a
lazy, spoiled, and selfish rotten brat,
when so many things
were and still are difficult for me to do
being told also wrongly so that
i never appreciated what people did for me,
when i did, but just did not know
how the fuck to show it
knowing my own father actually hated my guts
for the way i was even though i could not help the way i was
because i was BORN Autistic
imagine if you will what it is like
to go to school and have no safe zone there
where you can be you and
you cannot get away from all of the scary sensory stimuli
and you cannot be you or get away from
all of the unwanted scary sensory stimuli at home either
because your you is too wrong, too weird, to matter
you are expected to, forced to act a certain way,
and if you don’t, you are yelled down, scolded, and BELITTLED
all you can do is just go to your room all the time
because that is at least a little bit of a safe zone for you
always being talked over and interrupted
when i try to talk and express myself
yes, they did that too
and then they would interrupt
to finish all of my sentences for me,
not knowing what i was REALLY going to say
close spaces, having to be forced to endure being kissed,
or having to stand too close to others in a line
being beaten on my legs and buttocks growing up
beaten so hard it left welts that would raise up and bleed
having my hair and ears pulled so hard my head hurt
loud men yelling especially when angry
and my music–when i can’t even listen to my rock music
because the family music is country,
so i have to listen to that or i get in trouble for that too
a fear so bad i used to have to always
memorize the station my dad had the car and family radio on,
so he wouldn’t find out i was listening to the rock stations
my dad, brothers and sisters always pissed,
always irritated with me
i have bad flashbacks to all of this all the time
so that today, when anyone can present to me as angry,

even if  they aren’t, i am hypersensitive to it

i still take what people say and do wrong all the time
because of all of the hurts of my childhood
because i think i am being chastised and muzzled yet again
I have Complex PTSD thanks to what i went through
then losing my independence again,
losing my ability to drive and do for myself
after having my independence for 25 years,
where, 22 of them i was able to drive
has brought me back to how i felt as a child,
and that is how i feel now,
like i am that child again who had no rights
and now i feel as if don’t have any rights again anymore…… “
Post Two
“I am not abnormal.
I am Autistic.
There is nothing wrong with me
or the word Autistic.
I say the word.
People need to say the word.
Post Three
“My special interests are not obsessions or addictions. They are my coping mechanisms and there is nothing wrong with me having these special interests.”
Post Four
“I write and tell my story so that people will understand.”
Post Five
“When i yell because of the noise outside it is because that noise is actually causing me pain. People yell when in pain. People yell and cry when they hurt.”
Post Six
“When i say that i cannot do something it is because i truly do not have the ability or the spoons to be able to do that thing.
It is not that i don’t want to do whatever, it is that some things i lack the ability to do. Sometimes i have the spoons to do some things. Other things i never have the spoons for.
Please understand and accept that.”
In closing, my Autism is not used as a shield, crutch, nor do i mean to use it as a means to throw it in people’s faces. I often do not have the words available to me to be able to articulate what it is that i want to say, especially when i can sense i am not being heard.
So, out comes the word Autistic. And i cannot hide my Autism, or take it on and off like it’s a coat.
I don’t write to bad mouth people.
I do not write about my family to bad mouth them either.
I write because the family abuse happened. Because i want to let others know they aren’t alone, and how to spot the signs of abuse, and i want my family to finally read what i write and say “OMG, i did do those awful things!”
Because i have no family to turn to, and my mom and one nice sister are both financially unable to help me more than they can, i am in a vulnerable situation where if i do not have my caregiver to help me, i am literally left to fend for myself—-and i have been left without caregivers in the past—–and that was so terrifying for me that it has caused me to become even more hypervigilant about making sure the people i love and who matter to me, always understand and get me—-so they won’t throw me away too,like so many, many others have done.
I live in constant fear of this, and when i have any disagreement with my friends, i instantly go into a panic mode so severe, thinking they’re angry, and hate me, and it often makes things even worse.
I wrote this into a blog because sometimes i can put things better into words by talking, but other times, like now, i can do it better by writing it. That has nothing to do with anyone but my own spoon level at the moment. I have not had very many spoons ever since the election, to be honest. Yes, i am extremely scared about the current state of our government now, too.