Am I a Monster?

Hi everyone. I’ve been struggling really badly once again. Nearly three weeks ago, I had an outburst that caused the second staff so far at this home to request to the team manager that she not be required to support me for a while. This staff used to be one of my three assigned staff. Another was a student and has since left this home to continue her education at the intensive support home I used to live at. The third one is still my assigned staff, but she only works a day or two a week.

With the staff who previously requested to not support me for a while, I’ve since talked things over, though she still refuses to be honest about the thing that got me to be angry with her, ie. her using literally every opportunity to assign me a temp worker. Because of this, I’ve felt like I had to apologize for my anger (which I see is necessary) but she wouldn’t have to apologize for or explain her behavior that upset me. With the current staff, I don’t have this issue, but I do mistrust her for having pretended to have talked it over then decided she couldn’t handle it anymore a few days later.

I realize part of the problem is my attachment anxiety. As a result of this, I mistrust people who try to come close and be there for me, because I know that if they truly knew me, they’d reject me. Which is, of course, true in theory at least: no-one in life is there for anyone else unconditionally. And, given that I sometimes don’t know who I truly am, I worry that I’ll be worse than even I can imagine if I let my guard down.

Of course, it’s also a self-fulfilling prophecy, as you can see from the fact that two staff in the past year have already rejected me. The current one even claimed she wouldn’t.

Even if I’m in the midst of severe self-doubt, I am (almost) certain that I won’t become physically violent if I let my guard down. The problem is that words hurt too, and I can unfortunately say quite nasty things even without meaning them. I mean, there’s been one instance, back at the intensive support home, when I hurt someone’s feelings with a literal personal attack: I said that it was her fault that she got hurt during a fellow client’s outburst. This staff never requested to not support me anymore. With the two who so far did here, my comments weren’t intended as they came across and, while they could literally be seen as hurtful, I didn’t mean them personally and had no bad intentions whatsoever.

I struggle intensely with this knowledge, that I don’t intend to hurt people but that I do it nonetheless. I also struggle to figure out a way to stop this. After all, they are not insults that caused these staff to reject me (though I called them both bad names too). If they were the insults, it’d be doable to erase these from my vocabulary, as I’ve mostly successfully done with certain other words. However, like I said, they were their interpretations of my comments about how they don’t know me that hurt their feelings. This is harder for me to process, as it means being aware of every possible interpretation of something I literally say. This is quite hard for me as an autistic person with virtually no cognitive empathy.

Besides, as I now realize, I probably have low emotional empathy too, as I wasn’t able to predict that the staff was just going through the motions when I thought we’d talked things over. She in fact supported me through an intense movement therapy session and I didn’t pick on her struggling at all. This makes me feel even worse than the fact that I didn’t realize at the time that my words were hurtful.

This low emotional empathy realization makes me feel like I’m a monster. Aren’t autistics supposed to have high emotional empathy? Aren’t psychopaths and narcissists the ones with low emotional empahty? I mentioned possibly being a narcissist to my wife and she denied I am. Then again, aren’t narcissists masters at making their loved ones believe they are the victim? Is all this my attachment anxiety talking, or is there some truth to the idea that I don’t deserve to be supported?

Coming Out Day 2025

Hi everyone. It’s once again been more than a week since I last touched the blog. I keep telling myself that I should write only to be distracted by other things once I feel able to write. I’m struggling badly, but I know my blog helps me feel connected to the world too. I originally intended to look at today’s prompt for #SoCS or to write a post for #WeekendCoffeeShare. Then my best friend pointed out that it’s coming out day today.

Though I was open about being queer when I first started writing online in 2002 and I was advocating for trans rights on my first blog on WP, I haven’t been very clear about my identity over the past fifteen years or so. Part of the reason is the fact that I’m still figuring things out even now that I’m 39. Is that even possible? Part of the reason though is also fear. I know some of my regular readers are Christians and I don’t want to elicit negativity from them. Then again, is having to deny part of myself in order to please others, actually a wise choice? I remember first starting this blog with the intention of writing from the heart and now I’m not doing that.

So, let’s get into it. With respect to sexuality, I’m mostly asexual but have experienced attraction to women. When I was a teen, I met a girl and felt the butterflies in my stomach, but I never met her again and honestly am to this day clueless as to whether my attraction to her was sexual. I’ve had other fleeting crushes but nothing that indicated I felt like I wanted to be intimate with anyone.

My partner and I are more best friends than lovers and neither of us ever felt any attraction to the other one. In fact, I remember letting her wait for four months when she disclosed she had a crush on me. A lot of our earlier “love” was based on societal expectations. Now that we’re clear about our queer identities, we’ve also decided we will no longer do anything we don’t feel comfortable with. That’s one reason we considered divorcing.

I knew I was asexual for many years, but felt like hiding it because of societal expectations too. Who cares about labels, I sometimes thought. Who’s going to check whether my partner and I have sex? Obviously, no-one is, but it often did feel like I was denying part of myself when I was pretending to be in a sexual relationship. In truth, I’m probably never going to be in a sexual relationship and that’s fine by me. Being emotionally very vulnerable, I sometimes even feel that I can’t maintain the expectations of a friendship. That’s probably why my wife is my only friend. I sometimes try to expand my circle of connections, but it’s really hard.

I do consider myself to be on the aromantic spectrum too, though that’s more complicated than the asexual part. I, after all, did and to an extent still do enjoy giving my wife heart-shaped polymer clay creations. It makes her feel uncomfortable, so I don’t do it anymore.

I still sometimes consider myself a lesbian based on the attraction I can experience. Because one of my fleeting crushes in high school was on a boy, I have considered that I might be bisexual or pansexual, but I’m heavily lesbian-leaning if that’s the case.

With respect to gender identity, I’m cis but somewhat gender non-conforming. I strongly identify with being a woman, which is clear from the fact that most of my online nicknames were/are gendered. I however don’t know how much of this is societal expectations once again and I do find my gender expression isn’t all that feminine. Honestly, in this case, I’ve stopped caring about labels, but then again I realize that’s a privilege too as I’ve learned to deal with the dysphoria I do experience. For example, I don’t have to worry whether my discomfort with my cycle is due to sensory issues, feeling too vulnerable or is actually related to my gender, as I take the birth control shot so no longer menstruate.

All this being said, being queer isn’t a strong part of my identity, but it is a part of it. I am glad I’m able to be open about it now, if for no other reason, then because it felt like I was constantly jumping through hoops trying to avoid being too open about the realities of my marriage.

September 2025 In My Kitchen

Hi everyone. It’s the last day of the month and I’m joining in with the In My Kitchen linky once again. Last month, I said I had a few plans for the first week of September and hoped the rest of the month would be active as far as cooking and baking went too. Well, it wasn’t really, but in addition to there still not being any clarity on when I can actually do a cooking/baking activity, it didn’t help that I was sick with probable COVID for most of the second half of the month. Anyway, let me share what I did accomplish.

First, on September 2, I cooked a pasta dish for this side of the home. I used roasted bell peppers, mushrooms, onions, garlic and chicken. I bought the roasted bell peppers in a pot, but later found out it’s relatively doable to make them yourself.

Then, later in the week, I made another bowl of overnight oats for myself. In the picture, you can see my special spoon. I usually don’t take pictures of my adaptive cutlery or other special tools, but actually why not?

Too bad I don’t think of creating simple breakfasts or lunches for myself more often, as I really wish I could contribute to my wellbeing that way. However, I also blame the day schedule, because I have “alone time” for thirty minutes before lunchtime and I cannot prepare food completely without help.

The next Saturday, September 6, I used my two-hour activity time slot in the afternoon to bake Biscoff blondies. My baking tray was a little larger than the recipe creator recommended, but the blondies turned out great regardless. Most of my fellow residents and staff had one with their evening coffee.


They were delicious but very filling. When, the next day, my spouse and I had two of them, neither of us cared for lunch even though I am usually almost insatiable.

The next week, I didn’t do anything in the kitchen. On the 18th, however, I celebrated two years at this care home, so I wanted to cook dinner again. That day, there was also the institution festival, so I decided to do the cooking on Wednesday the 17th. I made burgers for the entire home, both sides, so 20 residents plus staff.

Unfortunately, the home was short-staffed that day, so I initially offered to eat in the living room as to not need a one-on-one staff in my room. By this time, my respiratory symptoms were getting noticeable and I was easily overloaded. I managed to snap a picture of my plate when in the living room, but quickly decided to go back to my room.

Once in my room, I discovered the staff who I’d asked to do the final work, had forgotten to add the onions, bell peppers and mayo to my burgers. Thankfully, this got sorted and I took another picture of my burgers before consuming them.

The burgers, unfortunately, weren’t as good as I’d planned them to be. I mean, they couldn’t have been all that great, as they were freezer burgers, but I had totally wanted the dish to be more appealing.

Overall, the first half of the month was pretty fulfilling in the kitchen department, but the second half wasn’t. I’m hoping that, now that I’m almost over this respiratory bug, I can start preparing food again. Today, I did get a breakfast box full of yummy things in it to be used on Saturday, when I do the Walk on Sunshine for the Dutch cerebral palsy charity.

Share Your World (September 29, 2025)

Hi everyone. When I saw today’s questions for Share Your World, I immediately felt like writing a response. Here are the questions and my answers.

1.  If you could be a flower or a plant, what would you be and why?
There are just so many I could choose from. I could choose lavender for its calming properties and because it’s purple, but someone else already chose that one. After some thought, I decided to go with the Cananga odorata tree (also known as ylang ylang). I absolutely love the scent of its essential oil, which is also calming. I also think it’d be cool to grow fast. The tree is also good for feeding many birds.

2.  Do you believe in magic?
I think so, yes. I’m quite spiritual even though I’m not religious and, besides, even without spirituality, there are the many wonders of nature.

3.   Do you believe in Karma?
Not in its fundamentalist form, because that would mean I somehow brought it onto myself that I’m disabled for something I did in a past life. I think in general, no, I don’t believe in it, but in some specific ways it’s common sense.

4.   Do you live in a community spirited neighbourhood?
I live in an institution, not a neighborhood, so not sure how to answer this question. I mean, yes, there are many institution-wide activities and, when residents and staff from different homes see each other out on grounds, we tend to chat. The staff also help each other out when in need, but I’m not sure that’s out of a sense of community.

#WeekendCoffeeShare (September 27, 2025)

Hi everyone. I’m joining in with #WeekendCoffeeShare for the first time in over a month. It’s nearly 10PM as I start typing this, so no more coffee for me. I did have a mug of green tea about half an hour ago, but for now it’s just water. Feel free to grab yourself a cup of your favorite beverage and let’s chat.

If we were having coffee, first I’d talk about the weather. Not that I’ve experienced much of it, as I spent most of the week indoors with what I believe to be COVID. The daytime highs most days have been around 17°C and we didn’t get much rain.

If we were having coffee, then I’d share that I paused my activity rings on my Apple Watch because I was too obsessively trying to meet my goals while being sick. I originally intended to restart them yesterday, but for now they’re on pause until this coming Tuesday.

If we were having coffee, then I’d tell you that, today, I finally feel like I might be on the mend. Being me, I did immediately go for a 30-minute walk. My average heartrate was 140BPM, which is high even for me. Let’s hope I won’t be exhausted tomorrow.

If we were having coffee, then I’d share that my spouse finally visited me today. We hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks even though it was our wedding anniversary on the 19th. Then though, I was sick with that could-be COVID thing. Today, we still didn’t do a lot. We went to a nearby pancake place to have lunch.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that, on Wednesday, the Center for Consultation and Expertise consultant came by. Like I said on Tuesday, I was only informed a day in advance and the consultant gave as little information about herself as she could (ie. just a first name). I feel incredibly distrustful of the entire process because of this. One of my assigned staff, the student, attended the meeting with me and it was more her telling the consultant what she thinks could be improved about my situation than me. I honestly fear this whole consultation is going to be a waste of time and money, as if the staff already know what I need (which, frankly, they don’t), why involve an independent consultant?

If we were having coffee, lastly I’d share that the student who’s my assigned staff, is leaving on Monday. She’s going to work at the intensive support home I used to live at and I’m struggling not to use that against her. I did, with some difficulty, create a necklace for her, which I’m going to give her when she has her last shift here.

The Could-Be COVID Chronicles, September 2025 Edition

Hi everyone. It’s been over a week since I last wrote a post for my blog. I’ve had some ideas on my mind, but I’ve been battling what I believe could be COVID since Wednesday. Here in the Netherlands, all official precautions and regulations were ended in early 2023 and replaced with a recommendation to “use common sense”. Now my institution has always been rather careless when it comes to quarantining people suspected of having COVID and I myself am not the most sensible either when there are no rules.

On Wednesday, in fact, I was cooking burgers for the entire home when this whole thing started. I blame myself for several other clients and half the staff being sick now, but the staff say they would probably have caught it somewhere anyway, just like I probably caught it from a staff coming to work sick on Monday last week.

On Thursday, I was in bed all day, but I felt better on Friday, so I decided to go for several walks and a dance. Not a good idea if I indeed do have COVID, as not resting well enough can contribute to having long-term symptoms.

Saturday, I was in bed again for most of the day but dancing at 11PM in my room again in order to meet my movement goal on my Apple Watch. I then decided I really had to rest, so lowered my movement goal for that day and paused my rings altogether on Sunday until tomorrow.

I’m now feeling okay, but not nearly back to normal. Tomorrow, the Center for Consultation and Expertise consultant is coming. There are no longer any rules prohibiting them to visit me and several other staff are working while having symptoms now too. Besides, I didn’t have a say in inviting them, so I don’t feel in a position to cancel.

I do feel guilty for basically doing what everyone else is here, ie. living my life as if COVID is no longer a threat. I know, I don’t know whether I actually have COVID since testing is no longer a thing here either, but I definitely feel this is more than just a very nasty cold.

Do I Have a Mental Illness?

Hi everyone. Several happenings today, including my reading today’s Friday Faithfuls post, made me think about the question whether I have a mental illness. Or should I say mental health condition? Is there even a difference?

People who know me, may be surprised at the fact that I even ask this question. I mean, of course! I spent nearly a decade in a psychiatric hospital. Then again, when I was first admitted, the psychiatrist deciding to admit me made it very clear that she wasn’t diagnosing me with a serious mental illness. I had a diagnosis of autism, of course, which though it is in the DSM and though here in the Netherlands it falls within the realm of psychiatry, isn’t technically speaking a mental illness. To be added to this diagnosis was adjustment disorder, which in short means an inability to cope with the stressors of daily life. Nowadays, people with this diagnosis alone don’t qualify for mental health services, let alone admission to a psychiatric hospital.

But once I was in the system, numerous mental health diagnoses which may fall under the realm of mental illness, were added. My first was impulse control disorder not otherwise specified, which I’m pretty sure was just a way of explaining away my meltdowns without admitting they were due to less than adequate care. I often wondered why they singled out impulse control as the only issue on which they gave me the vague “not otherwise specified” diagnosis. I guess it’s because, unlike my anxiety, depression, disordered eating, etc., my meltdowns did bother other people.

Then, several years later, came (complex) PTSD and dissociative identity disorder. These are mental illnesses, but they are caused by overwhelming circumstances, just like adjustment disorder.

Later came borderline and eventually dependent personality disorder. Finally, I was diagnosed with recurring depression in 2017.

All this to say, whether I have a mental illness or not, isn’t as straightforward as it may seem. I do know that my current care plan lists “mental health problems” as a general “diagnosis”. I honestly try not to care about the specifics of my diagnosis, but I’ve learned the hard way that the specifics can be used against me. For example, when I had the personality disorder diagnoses, I was kicked out of the psych hospital with almost no aftercare because of allegedly misusing care. I wish the higher-ups would look beyond the labels and at the individual.

Hope for My Home #SoCS

Hi everyone. Today’s prompt for #SoCS is “starts with ‘ho’”. The first word that came to mind for me was “home”. In less than two weeks, I’ll be at my current care home two years. I remember celebrating the two-year mark in Raalte, almost fully confident that I’d stay there for many more years. In fact, at my care plan review at the end of September (I moved into the care home in Raalte in September too), I said I was 95% sure that I wanted to stay there. “Make it 98%, please,” said my home’s manager. A year later, I had moved to the intensive support home and, as it turned out, the higher-ups in Raalte didn’t want me back.

Another word that came to mind is “hope”. We all could use a little hope, I think. I want to start by saying that, if I celebrate my two-year stay at this home, it doesn’t mean I’ve jinxed (a word I only recently learned of) it and I’ll be voluntarily kicked out of here in less than a year, like in Raalte. I still hope there’s room for improvement in my care and, rather than being shoved around, I’ll finally be able to feel home.

I do admit I have good days. Today, I baked a Biscoff blondie with my staff. That was fun! I just so wish that my life were actually relatively good rather than my having to hope everyday that this day will not suck. Not that a day when I don’t bake sucks, of course. Life is more than Biscoff blondies. But when all I can tell my spouse on the phone that I’ve done today is walk and play dice games, it’s boring. And that’s while my life could be so much less boring if I were able to contribute. And I don’t just mean cooking, baking and crafting. I mean the less interesting tasks of daily life too. I feel accomplished when I’ve helped with some chores around the home. I hope that when, at some point, my new day schedule is created, life’ll be a bit more fulfilling.

Laughing Over Lemons

Laughing over lemons. That phrase has been on my mind for a few days. It’s a twist on the phrase “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” I think sometimes it’s best to laugh at our worst days.

Like, when I had only been in the psychiatric hospital for a day back in 2007, I was telling psych ward jokes. You know, what’s the difference between the patients and the staff on psychiatric units? First, the patients get better and leave. Second, the staff have the keys. And there was another one. Something about not all patients believing they’re God. I think those last two apply to institutions for people with developmental disabilities too. I mean, particularly at the intensive support home (ie. the home for those with severe challenging behavior), my spouse said the only noticeable difference between the residents and staff was the staff carrying a pager to beep for assistance when a resident becomes violent. Other than that, both staff and residents were usually staring blankly at the TV.

We, the residents, were often blamed. Or at least, the other residents (other than me, that is) were. They have no motivation for life and they are too old to teach. Besides, no-one can force them away from the TV because that would be involuntary care. That’s what I was told. Never mind that I’ve witnessed on many occasions staff telling residents that they had gotten enough “attention” for the day because staff had been sitting with them for fifteen minutes with a cup of coffee.

I am often quite cynical in my humor. If only my cynical jokes weren’t actually 99% truthful. And now all I can hope for is that my joke about everything being okay in 2034 (because the world is going to be blasst to hell) isn’t going to turn out 99% truthful too.


I am linking this post up with Friday Writings. It isn’t necessarily a hopeful or positive post. However, I do feel that laughing over the many lemons life hands me and many other people in this world and age, can certainly be helpful.

Of Elements, Songs and World War III

Hi everyone. Esther’s writing prompt this week is “Element(s)”. I was immediately reminded of the song The Elements by Tom Lehrer.

Tom Lehrer, who passed away this summer at the age of 97, was a comedian and singer, though to be honest like most male comedians, he couldn’t actually sing. Then again, neither can I, but I don’t try. I don’t care whether he could sing or not though, as his song lyrics were brilliant. The Elements isn’t nearly his best song.

I love his songs about current events. Though they were written in the 1960s, some still ring true, in a scary kind of way.

I honestly have been feeling more and more unsafe over the past year or so. I mean, Millennials like me were in our teens when the 9/11 terrorist attacks happened and the world (or rather I should say the West) hasn’t been at peace ever since. I mean, the world’s never been at peace, but in 1989, the West at least thought it had won. Not so. Now with Trump in office in the United States, I wonder who “the West” even are anymore. I, being in Europe, feel more and more like it’s not just Russia and China who might cause the next world war, but Alabama might as well.

I feel more and more scared when I use my mantra that everything will be okay in 2034. I know, I started this thing as a satirical take on the book 2034, which is about the next world war. I realize now that the authors of the book were actually quite serious, but a few years ago, I thought I could turn things around by saying everything will be okay. I don’t mean this to be blasphemous, but I honestly got the idea from the Bible. I mean, I remember when I was (pretending to be) a Christian, I at one point wrote that everything will be okay in 2021 and sort of hoped that Christ would return that year. He didn’t, and as a non-believer I doubt He will in 2034.

Of course, I try to hope that there won’t be a World War III in 2034 or ever. But if there will be, I hope whoever presses the button, will remember Tom Lehrer’s survival hymn.