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.”

====CLICK!!!!====

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.

Trapped

                                                               Written May 22, 2017

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.

This Is my Situation & Why I Don’t & Cannot Do Any Better Than I Am Doing To Cope With This Life

Written April 29, 2017

I honestly do not know how much longer i can go on like this….

I am Autistic and physically disabled, and i am doing my honest best that i can do to cope and get through each day….and it is getting harder and harder to go on like this.

When Connie goes home each afternoon, the sun is still shining, and i am all alone with no place to go where i can enjoy these long evenings—–i have no pretty views to look at in either my front or back yards—-just the ugly yellow tin buildings all around me—-and i have to listen to painfully awful loud bass and hot rodding all day long—–so, i remain cooped up inside, and i turn up my TV and music and fall asleep, because there is nothing else to do.

I am also all alone on Sundays, housebound, unable to go anywhere, do anything, and no one comes to visit me…..

I may have three brothers, three sisters, seven nieces and three nephews….but all of them, with the exception of one sister, and my mother, have nothing to do with me….there are no offers to be Facebook friends with any of them, and i am barred from calling them or emailing them…..i am also actually blocked by one sister and one sister in law.

Growing up, i was raised to be terrified of my own father, and i was ganged up on all the time by my normal brothers and sisters, always hounding me to be the normal neurotypical i was not.

I got told time and again—i would never have friends, never date, never hold down a job, and never learn how to drive. Over and over again.

I lived at home with my parents till Dec. 1987 when i was 27 1/2 years old. At which time, i moved to my own small apartment that was in back of a bigger house that was rented by two kind old ladies, a mother and daughter who took me under their wings and gave me the confidence to really be me for the first time in my whole life.

I grew up having few to no friends all through school. I grew up bullied and being made fun of. Both at home, and at school. I grew up knowing my father hated me because i was so weird, so different.

I learned to cope by developing my inside world made up of imaginary friends that i would make out of certain roads, highways, and electronics—-and i still do that today. I also turned to TV and music and pen pals. And eating.

I made friends with the two speed radar trailers that were here last year. But those got taken from me. I am still waiting and hoping fervently the police will put the nice one back here, the one that had the nice red “SLOW DOWN” sign. Then i would be able to feel safe enough to go outside again, because those speed trailers had that affect on me, of actually making me feel safe to be in my own front yard.

I have my mom to talk to via phone. Connie comes for several hours six afternoons a week.

But the rest of the time—-i am here, stuck in this house, unable to go anywhere, and no one visits me.

If Connie is unable to come i sometimes have one sweet local friend who will get me my dinner and sodas—–otherwise—-i am all alone with only my internet and TV and music to keep me company.

I used to love it when i could drive and escape up to the ocean to sit and watch the waves, and go sit in certain restaurants where i would make friends with some of the wait staff and visit with them.

I used to love the long evening drives i would take when the days would get longer, where i would actually drive all the way up to Cambria and back.

I don’t have that outlet anymore.

I had to move to my current place in 1992, where i have regressed again because of the mostly cruel nature of the people who have lived here and who work here in some of the nearby businesses—-this has had me in a constant state of stress since 1992—-and this has affected me profoundly by me gaining lots of weight—-and then the lymphedema happened, as i was run out of my bedroom by even more cruel next door neighbors my mother rented to one summer who would smoke in the carport and blow it right my way—–

So i began having to sleep sitting up on my living room sofa, with my legs down on the floor—and my TV turned up loud to drown out the outside noises of the loud bass and hot rods and bullying noises. That caused the lymphedema in both of my legs.

I eventually stopped driving and became a shut in because it got harder both physically because of my legs, and mentally for me to get out of my house by myself.

I have been relying on in home caregivers to take care of me now since 2012. Before i found Connie, i suffered, literally, through a string of caregivers who were mentally, emotionally, and financially abusive, with three in particular, Little Jess, Sh, and JuJu being the worst.

I also suffered at the hands of a man who was supposed to be a friend and ally, but who would get mean with me every other month, and then he finally turned on me for good, which devastated me, and caused me to have horrible nightmares……on top of my Tiffany (another mean neighbor) nightmares, and nightmares i still have to this day about my father and family.

My caregiver Sh would routinely knock down my dreams and goals and yell and scream at me and belittle me. One day, her yelling and screaming reached epic proportions, as she drove me two whole miles down to my bank, yelling and screaming at me the entire trip down—two days later, she walked out on me, turned my next door neighbor against me, turned my friend from Bakersfield against me who used to come here to take me up to the ocean—-and she called the cops on me to try and have me hauled off to a long term care facility. Actually, a mental facility.

In the summer of 2015, Connie and i took a one month break, and i suffered with two more abusive caregivers, who also took money from me.

My reactions to so many things are deeply intense now——- because again, i am mostly all alone here when Connie isn’t here. And the PTSD and fear of being bullied, made fun of, rejected and abandoned have not gone away and are still very much a huge part of me.

This is why i am often in ultra sensitive moods.

This is why i often take the things people say too personally and too literally.

I still have days when i don’t know whether Connie is being serious or is joking with me.

I still have great doubts about myself and even still have internalized ableism.

I tend to still push people away out of my fear that i will be hurt, bullied, made fun of, and rejected yet again.

It is hard when just getting up puts me straight away into a battlefield—-in my own home—-because of the way this neighborhood is.

So, if i have fucked up days, please forgive me, and please forgive me if i misunderstand and misinterpret the things people do and say. I am very good at putting up walls—-don’t let me do that—-don’t let me push any of you away.

I am happy and proud that i am Autistic. Because this is me. This is who i am.

I just wish more people would understand why i act, react, do and say the things hat i do. It is out of fear and fear of being abandoned and left to fend for myself by so many in my past, even family when they all moved out of state and left me here.

I have a heart. I care. But i am hurting deeply inside 24/7, mainly because my biological family has actually seemed to of discarded and disowned me because of my Autism. And that is what hurts the most of all.

Hoping this posts with the paragraphs this time……why i put the lines in between paragraphs—because this didn’t post right.