Street Art - Manchester's Northern Quarter

While I was away recently I spent a few hours alone in the centre of Manchester and wandered round the Northern Quarter.  I like it.  Parts of it look a bit run down but that may be more appearance than reality. It's not all shiny lights and gloss and glamour and the noise of multinational commerce.

But it's the kind of place I enjoy if I'm in the middle of a city.

As I wandered through I noticed that there is quite a lot of street art there and much of it is really good.  So on my way out of the Northern Quarter to meet my friend - and deliberately including a few streets I hadn't walked down before - I came to a decision to get out my phone and take some pictures.  Sometime when I'm back there I'll explore more and take pictures of more of the art.

It turned out that we spent much of the afternoon back in the Northern Quarter.  My friend likes it there too.  She had mentioned a cafe and I wanted to go there.  I loved it.  Very comfortable place to sit.  Dangerously comfortable since it is a pay as you go cafe where the only thing you pay for is the time you are there.  Someone blogged about Ziferblat Manchester a couple of days ago.  Click here and you'll be able to see why I loved it and why it's among her favourite places.

My wonderful friend also took me to a shop I'd noticed from the art outside it, Afflecks Palace.  It's a really cool place.  All kinds of wonderful little shops and stalls are there.  All I bought were a few badges and some very cheap beads which I confess are mainly for being on pretty display rather than for making things from.  Next time we'll go to another cafe.  She showed me the cakes through the window and I just have to visit.  I can't not visit a place with cakes like those.

If you're ever in the centre of Manchester for a few hours and if you're anything like me then I'd advise to visit the Northern Quarter and to avoid the Arndale Centre and all the chain stores with their bright lights and sterility.  Just wander and explore and enjoy.  Of course, if you're a big fan of what large shopping malls have to offer then indulge yourself in the Arndale Centre.

So here is just some of the street art.  There is plenty more to go back and record.  And at the end something that isn't street art and isn't in the Northern Quarter.  But I liked it.  Life is enriched by street art.

Days of Gratitude - Eleven Days, Ten Nights.

To continue where I left off last time.  These are more daily posts in the Sunday Assembly Newcastle Gratitude Group on Facebook.  The more awake among you will note that I missed a day.  Not because there was nothing to be grateful for but because of a combination of busyness, not remembering to take a photograph, and just not being disciplined enough to do what isn't a compulsory thing in the first place.

I've been enjoying looking back at these pictures.  And I enjoy seeing what other people post too and smile at the things for which they are grateful.

This post covers 8th to 18th January.  Ten nights away from home staying first in Manchester and then on the Fylde coast.  Many of the days could have included gratitude for so many things, large and small.

In 2001 I was part of an online support group for people who self harm.  One of the regular challenges there was to write lists of positives.  Some days I could sit for an hour writing the list before it contained one item.  My head could not see the positives because of my terrible mental health at the time.  Objectively though, there are many positives every day for most of us, many things for which we can be grateful.

8th January

Grateful that I have love in my life. For everything this picture represents. And grateful that by the end of today I get to hold the hand in the picture again and be with the person whose hand it is.

 9th January

Grateful for this lunch yesterday in a new Thai cafe in Bury.

Also grateful to the Manchester transport official who said I could ride on the tram for free even though I have the wrong concessionary pass for that.

11th January

Grateful for the sweet alpaca in Heaton Park.

This may confuse those who wish to point out the lack of alpacas in Heaton Park.

But I was in a different Heaton Park.

  

12th January

Today included illegally taking someone's meds to get through a panic attack.

It would be easy to focus on that and call it a bad day.

But there has been so much good today. So much. I could write a blog post about all the good. So many good things to be very grateful for.

A big one: The photo is of us at the theatre tonight after seeing Into The Woods. And bonus - half price tickets because of disability.

13th January

Grateful that there are at least three good things in Fleetwood and to have experienced them all in the last few hours:

Scallop barm cakes.
The Eccles Cakes from Home Bakery.
And this very friendly, cuddly cat who lives in a tiny charity shop.

14th January

Grateful for spotting street art on the bus into Blackpool, getting off, and finding enough of it to fill a blog page when I get back to Newcastle. And finding a really cool 3 floor antique and junk shop across the road from the art.

Three photos from twenty-seven were posted in the gratitude group.  Only one is here - because there will be a full blog post of the photos. Grateful for my little phone too. Amazed by technology.

15th January


Grateful for this gadget that I am finally using having been given it probably two years ago.

Also grateful to have been introduced to the most excellent Skulduggery Pleasant series last year (or bullied until I agreed to try the first one) and for my set of signed books in paper version.

16th January

Grateful for an extra bonus day with the wonderful Amanda. Tourism and just being together in Blackpool. A verandah moment: Holding each other on the beach, in the snow, as the tide came in around us.

Yeah. Very grateful that today was possible.

17th January

I went here this morning. Fifteen years ago I was a deacon at this church and was a very sound lay preacher. They loved my words. And I was masking misery, and self harming before leading services. No real solace in the old, old story.

I am very grateful indeed. Very grateful.

Because my faith, whatever it may be, is completely different the one I used to preach. That I am not that miserable self-hating guy any more. That there is so much hope and freedom outside of the exclusivity I proclaimed so fervently. That there are so many great possibilities that I no longer reject.

Simply, grateful because life is so much better now.

18th January

Here goes. Grateful to be home after 10 days. Grateful the journey was good and the views contained snow. Grateful for my own duvet.

And for memories of the time away.



So there we have it.  Ten days away.  Now I am home and life can get back to normal, if it was ever normal to begin with.  The grateful days will continue and there will probably be as many surprises this year as last year.  I have so many struggles and the challenge of getting through the days is often immense.  But gratitude is a healthy habit to have in the struggles.

Days of Gratitude - The First Days.

I said on January 1st in a post about things for which I am grateful that I have joined a group on Facebook run through the Sunday Assembly in Newcastle.  It's a gratitude group.  The idea is that you post a picture and/or description each day of something for which you are grateful.

It's good to be able to focus on gratitude because often the days can be hard and sometimes the challenges are immense.  But if we can focus on gratitude then that can help to change our outlook on our lives.

The first days.  Here are my gratitude pictures from December 30th (I started two days early) until January 7th.  There will be a blog post soon covering my gratitude pictures from January 8th to 18th.  I've been away from home - giving them some peace there - and have so much to be very thankful for.  A few more blogs of photos are planned too which will be a relief to anyone who struggles with the amount of words I can usually scribble.

Looking back on these nine days brings me nine smiles.  I can recommend this practice to you all.  Smiles when you experience things.  Smiles when you record them.  And smiles when you look back on the recorded experiences.

 

 

December 30th

Today I am grateful as I remember the simple pleasure of Sunday morning, sharing the sunrise with my child.

December 31st

It's still a day early for posting. But. This calendar.

Not just the calendar. But the friend who sent it to me. One of the new friendships in 2015.

This calendar and friendship may get a repost in a few weeks on the day her cat is featured.

January 1st
I am grateful that at the start of this year I understand myself a hell of a lot better than I did a year ago, that I was able to accept something I'd been denying for a very long time. Understanding brings hope and a place to begin to build a life I can do, rather than keeping on trying to build a life I could never do.

January 2nd
Today I am thankful that I am finally being brave enough to play and not worry too much about the (nearly complete) result. And that some things take attention, not skill.

I wanted to walk but the weather put me off so this happened to sheet one of the first pad of art paper I have ever bought.
 

January 3rd

Productive use of insomnia last night. Another three feet of books cleared out that don't belong in my future.

I am grateful because - and this is miraculous - there is now a 10 inch gap on one of the sets of bookshelves in my bedroom.

A gap! Woo hoo!

January 4th

Grateful to be able to walk through Jesmond Dene in the rain with child. Grateful for the noise of the waterfall even if I couldn't have a lie down on my favourite rock, just to the left of the middle of the water. Grateful for the store of grateful photos taken in the last 24 hours.

January 5th


I forgot to take a picture. But this place.

A friend got me to come along to an art group there this morning and I played with oil paint for the first time ever. I haven't got the foggiest idea what I'm meant to be doing with it but that's okay. It's about fun not perfection or finesse.

January 6th

Grateful for this book which arrived in the post this week (and which cost 51p) One exercise down, 365 to go. 500 free written words Above all, this is about fun and play but it should help lots with making my writing more, er, existing.

It was so much fun chuckin' down words that the book got a blog post - and if anyone wants to do the exercise too I'd love to see the varied results that fall out of people's heads. http://reborn-as-woman.blogspot.co.uk/

January 7th
Grateful for the meeting I had this morning, that there are people like that in the world.

Grateful that she is very understanding and was happy to traipse across town with me in the wet because the cafe I'd suggested, that is normally quiet enough for me, felt far too loud today.

Grateful that this potentially sizable project we have in mind is actually likely to happen and that by the end of the year something good may exist that currently doesn't. All we want as a social support and advocacy organisation that is also an information centre, campaigning group and provider of education and training on a particular subject. Nothing big!

But I didn't take a photo. So here's a happy three-legged unicorn that was seen on a post somewhere a while back.

 

The Write-Brain Workbook. Day 1. Exorcist, Insensitive, Massage

I received a little money at Christmas.  I've spent it on books.  Some are about autism.  Some are about art.  And a couple are about writing.  These are three of the areas on which I want to focus right now.

One of the books I've treated myself to is "The Write-Brain Workbook" by Bonnie Neubauer.  An exercise for every day of a year that should "liberate your writing."  Okay this is me and day two doesn't necessarily immediately follow day one, or day three follow day two.  But the exercises are there.  It wasn't a costly treat - fifty-two pence plus p&p.  But that's more expensive than "The Artist's Date Book" by Julia Cameron which is on order and I am looking forward to receiving.

The Write-Brain Workbook is about free writing.  It's about all kinds of ways to get over the fact that sitting down in front of a blank page can be a scary experience.  Each day gives an exercise to do and a little bonus exercise too.  Each exercise - and the exercises are pretty varied - gives a prompt and you write from it, with a few basic rules:

Keep Writing.
Don't Edit.
Let Yourself Go.
Be Specific.
Don't Negate Your Work.
Have Fun.

For most of us these simple rules can be quite difficult to follow - and the option is given to rebel against them if that is more free for us at the time.  The rules have more information, for instance:

Let Yourself Go:  Don't worry about the end result.  Give yourself permission to write junk.  Don't hold back.  Don't filter.  Go on an adventure.  Play.

I'm trying to learn this.  I've been beginning to explore art recently - tentative steps - and not worry.  I've always tended to stop myself doing anything artistic because I'm not Rembrandt or Shakespeare or "as good as" those around me.  Thanks to the enthusiastic prompting of friends I have finally begun to learn that it doesn't matter one little bit and that art and creativity is primarily about fun and self expression not about producing something popular or dignified or worthy to be hung in a gallery or recited at the Hay-on-Wye Festival.

Today was day one.  The book says any day can be any day.  But I've started with one.  Here's the exercise.

_____________________

Circle Game one

Circle the one word that most appeals to you:
Alabama    Banister    Carousel    Diesel    Exorcist

Circle the one word the most appeals to you:
Flatulence    Garage    Harried    Insensitive    Jambalaya

Circle the one word that most appeals to you:
Keepsake    Lamb    Massage    Nonsense    Oriole

Use these three words in a story.  Start with:
Sometimes I feel just like a gerbil, running around and around in his wheel!

If you like.  Stop reading now.  Go away, complete the exercise.  And then, if you like, post your writing as a comment here.  I'd love to see what other people make of this game.  And it is a game.  It's not a chore.  It's not something with a deadline, paid by the word.  This whole book is meant to be fun - fun with a purpose, but fun.


One exercise done.  I think the other 365 are going to give me a lot of pleasure -  far more than worth the £3.31 including postage that I invested in the book.

A photo, to give you a pleasing place to sit if you don't want to be thinking about running on the wheel.

This was taken at Tynemouth last month on a really windy day when sitting and soaking in the view wasn't a desirable choice.



Here is what I wrote.  I followed the rule:  "Give yourself permission to write junk!"  And so I just wrote.

Sometimes I feel just like a gerbil, running around and around on his wheel! I am compelled to keep going, determined to make progress but I achieve nothing. Stepping off is not an alternative because what would I be stepping into? He has his home, the safety of a nest and all the food and water he wants is given to him without him even asking. But I'd be stepping back into that mess and nothing would have changed. All I can do is keep running, keep hoping that the next turn of the wheel will change something and there will be hope of life, hope that I can forgive the past and that the future will be one free of the wounding, the bloody injuries to my mind.

I've tried everything. I've tried to clear the mess, attempted to sit in quiet acceptance of it all. I've worked through countless self-help books and visited all manner of gurus and light-workers and charlatans and snake-oil peddlers. I've convinced myself of my own insanity. I've turned to the extremes of religion and they could not see any reason for my predicament unless I was demon possessed. And so they sent an exorcist. Another year, another religion, another attempt at exorcising my soul from the literal demons or the demon-like ways of my mind. But they failed, and failed and failed over and over and every time I thought I saw the light and the glimmer of freedom it was snatched away from me in the error of the system, the brokenness of the theory, the crazy wide-eyed enthusiasm of the zealot doomed to discouragement and disillusionment when the joy of the way turns to the despair of just another stupid dead end.

So I keep running and the past chases me. I keep running and the terrified screams of my mind run with me. It has been so long that I hardly hear them. I am so used to all this that as long as I keep running and running and never letting go of hope I am insensitive to the sound, to the painful unending torment. I can't stop running because then I hear and I fall and I am lost again to brutality and the slow death. I can't stop because then I am tempted to look back and see everything that I have failed to escape. I can't rest. Never rest. Rest is impossible.

The limbs of my mind ache. The breathing of my thoughts is forever laboured and the heart of my soul is constantly pushed to the limits of endurance. I would love to stop. Love to find another hope even if it's another false hope. Because at least those gave me a break. They were like a relaxation therapy, an inner massage and a chance to recover energy. True, each time they led to me being kicked so hard that I thought I would never recover from the pain. But while they lasted they were relief from the agony.

And so I run. Onwards. Onwards. I can imagine the end in sight but it never comes closer.

Will I run forever? Or will the wheel break, and I be broken upon it?

Grant me hope. Grant me life.

2016. Day One. Things For Which I Am Grateful.

It's a new year.  An idea was suggested at the last Sunday Assembly that there would be a facebook group on which people would post pictures each day of things for which they are grateful.  I've signed up and started posting early.  Celebrating our gratitude and the gratitude of others is a good idea.  And in the spirit of that, here's a blog post filled with some of the things for which I am grateful.

2015 was unexpectedly hard for me, perhaps the hardest I've ever had.  That is saying a lot given what's happened in previous years - not least 2013 and 2014 in which I came to terms with my gender, my precious faith fell apart, my dad's health deteriorated rapidly and my mum died of cancer.  In 2015 my mental health has been worse than it has been for a very long time and there have been some awful times.  Awful times.  Many tears.  Near despair.  Meltdowns.  Shutdowns.  Sometimes very publicly.  I am currently on four different waiting lists relating to different aspects of my mental health.  But today I don't want to focus on the bad parts of the year because there has been so much good.

So.  Some positives.  There are many to choose from.  These are just a few.

Autism.

2015 has been the year of accepting myself as autistic, starting to learn what that means for my entire life and for the future.  It's been the year of gaining a lot more self understanding.  It's been very difficult for me but worthwhile.  The way that certain unconscious survival techniques fell apart and I learned what it's like without them has been staggeringly difficult.  But I am glad to know who I am at a base level and to be at the point where I can begin to learn to live as who I am rather than as who I am not.

The process of reading and learning and of examining my entire life has been wild.  It affects pretty much every aspect of how I see my life and of how I should seek to be living it in the future.  And through the year I've found excellent people to read online and then met great people.  That led in August to Autscape, a four day gathering/conference for autistic people.  Such a wonderful time.  My name badge from Autscape hangs by my bed.

Autism will affect the rest of my life.  The hopes for this year include learning a lot more about it, seeking some training in how to help and educate others, to be involved with a network in Newcastle for support, advocacy, campaigning and education and to go back to university and study autism in an academic context.  The hopes for the rest of my life are to live it more fully, as someone who can be wonderfully autistic rather than thinking she is a dysfunctional neurotypical.  There will probably be many surprises.

I could write much about autism and my life, and I'm sure much will be written this year.

The Church.

My faith has seen highs and lows and most of the time I don't particularly believe in a creator God-being.  But church is still a home and the people there have stuck by me through everything - even the time where my mental health was such that I pulled out of leading worship half way through a service in which I was helping lead worship.  I haven't been able to go back to that role or any other role.  I am grateful for what Northern Lights MCC has been in my life for the last two and a half years.

Friends I didn't know a year ago.

In particular:

The autistic friend who helped me accept that I might be autistic after all and helped me get to the point at which I had to face myself.  She also got me to read the first of a series of books that I mention later.  And I am grateful for her company, which is always relaxing because there is open encouragement to be who we are and to accept each other in all our perfect imperfections.

The wonderful Christian friend I met at an atheist gathering.  She is so accepting and has encouraged me consistently to be myself, that it's okay to be me, and has encouraged me to explore creativity.  And she tells me how I've helped her which is great to know.

The wonderful witch friend I met at a day singing Christian songs.  Her company is relaxing and I just know whatever happens time with her won't be predictable.  Case in point:  The day I went for a walk in the country with her and ended up leading a pagan funeral for someone's dog.

The wonderful people who are a part of Autism In Mind, a charity based in Sunderland that does so much excellent work for autistic people and in campaigning and education.

Two of the Blue Babes.  Wonderful people I met at Autscape.  We started a little group to talk (and mainly text) and we've been in contact since.  I hope to see them both before Autscape if I can.  The cat pictured belongs to one of the Babes.

And last, but most definitely not least, the other member of the Blue Babes.  Another wonderful person.  We have become very close and she is massively precious to me.  I am extremely thankful that we met and that we have become what we have become.  I guess I may be writing more about us through the course of this year.  There have been quite a few surprises in the last year but she is the biggest surprise I've had and I am grateful to be surprised in this way.  We love each other so much and are both incredibly thankful that we have each other and can share what we share.

This is Portal.  She made Portal for me.  Portal is named partly because we can't be together much but can be connected by a Portal.  Portal is also named after the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Hearts.  To represent us.  Together.  We love.

One of us is blue.  The other is purple.







Just a few positives.  I could talk of my home, my wife, my child, the way people were understanding when my mental health stopped me doing things that I could really have done with doing.  I could talk of Shape Note singing and the joy of that terrible noise!  I could talk of living in Newcastle which is a place that's been so good to me.  I could talk of playing in the sunshine in the water fountains of the Olympic Park when visiting one of the Blue Babes.

I could talk of encountering Broadacre House, of being able to help with the work for refugees - if only for a brief period of good mental health, of the mindfulness groups I've been to there.  And there will be a Broadacre post sometime - with some of the photos I took wandering round the place a few months ago.  I reckon there will be more unexpected Broadacre things in my life this year.  Here's a collaborative picture a few of us made in a session during the Peace Conference there in September.

I could talk of drinking tea in Tea Sutra.  There was a lot of tea drinking in 2015.

I could talk of the joy of having a concessionary bus pass.  The joy of being able to get to the coast easily, not having to buy a ticket, and seeing sights like this.

I could talk of the way I endlessly find new music to enjoy.  Of how much I like my noise cancelling headphones.  I could talk about how 2015 was the year in which I made my first steps into playing with art and how it looks like that will develop this year.  Art is freedom.  The future can be freedom too.  This is my first art attempt - made for a friend's birthday.

I could talk of spirituality and the exploration in the last year.  Or of the free meditation group, Soul Food Spaces, that I have been introduced to in the autumn.  I could talk about an incredible series of children's books, Skulduggery Pleasant.  (If you haven't read those books, read those books)  And of the first post-Skulduggery book by Derek Landy and how fun the signing evening was when we got him to sign two full sets of his books.

I could talk about how my hormone treatment as a transgender woman is progressing well.  I could talk of how I was able to see a friend again who I hadn't seen since 1988.  I could talk about the fact I've taken more photographs in the last four months than perhaps in the previous forty-four years.  I could talk about how we replaced our very collapsed sofa with a lovely, comfy three piece suite, which cost us £25 plus delivery.

I could talk of so many things.  That's not an exhaustive list.

Yes, 2015 has been one of the most difficult of my life.  But there is so much good.  And today I choose to focus on all that is good.  And a year that starts out surprisingly very different to how the last one began.  There are a lot more challenges.

But I firmly believe that the future will be better than the past.

Things People Said to an Autistic Person Like Me

This is something I wrote at that point when I had worked out that I am autistic and began to tell friends about it and get autistically obsessive about the subject.  I posted it elsewhere at the time - somewhere I knew that nobody would read it.  I just found it again and post it here without edits:

 ____________________

Amazing how many of these things have already been said to me.  I know I talk incessantly about autism but I haven’t been doing it for long as it was only recently that I was able to admit this about myself after years of denial and even of shame.

On mentioning it for the first time to a small group of intelligent people from the local philosophy society I got the following reactions.  I’d said that I was seeking assessment to get this diagnosis made official.  The philosophers responded:

“But you don’t look autistic.”

“But isn’t everyone on the spectrum?”  That person went on to “prove” that he must be on the spectrum because he likes the Rubik’s Cube.  As if that proved a thing.  In any case, his best time was rubbish compared to my best time - from the year I spent with the cube in the early 80s using what would now be thought of as primitive solving techniques.

“But autism doesn’t even exist.”

I’m not always sure that the local philosophers are particularly philosophical.

A few days ago I was told that I shouldn’t “be doing all that autistic stuff” because it might affect my child.  As if I have any choice whatsoever about doing anything I’m doing to discover and accept myself.  And I have been told that I’m avoiding my family by “jumping on the autism bandwagon.”

Yes.  It will affect my child.  But there are a lot of things that people don’t know.  Long term this will affect my child and my family life for the better.  We talk about it, discuss it at length.  Coming out as transgender brought my family closer together in honesty, openness, compassion, the freedom to be who we are.  What we’re all going through in this autism exploration is having the same effect.  Yes, there are many challenges in all this.  But they lead to a much healthier way of living in this home - the sort of health that self acceptance and the unconditional acceptance of each other brings, the sort of health that means we can all be increasingly open and authentic in our difficulties, knowing that all we will get is support from each other.  It may be a strange thing but my coming out as transgender and now my self acceptance about autism has increased the support my child gets, the safety they feel, and the knowledge that they can be who they are and still have that support - and, giving no details, my child is not exactly “average.”

Yes.  It’s true.  People, well meaning, caring people, really say things like that. Not sure they have a great deal of insight into how this particular family ticks.  They speak from a position that is loving.  It is compassionate.  But it’s a position that lacks knowledge of the inner world of this actually quite amazing and complicated little family unit.

This particular friend feels that the label of autism will drive people like her away because it makes her feel that she will never understand me.  Which is totally backwards:

The label (as much as it is a label) should help her to understand me in a way that she couldn’t understand me before.  It should increase her understanding of me.  In fact it may show that while she may have never understood me before (Unintentionally I never gave her the key to do so) it will now become a lot easier to see me and know roughly how I function.

The only future problem there should be regarding understanding is that the label points to the fact that I will continue to have problems understanding other people.  The only difference accepting the label and the truth makes is that I no longer have to feel so guilty and ashamed about it.  Which should, in time, help with all relationships.

The video is over.  Youtube recommends others. I’ve seen one of the autism ones before when my child showed it to me.  It’s certainly the same video maker - I can tell.  I can’t recognise the person but I recognise the bookshelf behind her!

________________

Much has happened since writing that.  I've grown in knowledge of autism.  I've grown in knowledge of myself.  I've met lots of autistic people and found new friends.  I've grown into more self acceptance.  And it really has not been easy.  There have been very difficult times.  And I've screwed up more than once. Dealing with accepting myself as gloriously autistic is worthwhile and will lead to a better future but it's been the hardest thing I've ever done.  There is still much to work through and more to learn about myself and how best to live and learn to function and even thrive in this world.

Six weeks ago I was officially diagnosed as autistic which is good.  There are benefits to that beyond not having people refuse to believe that I might be autistic because a medical professional hasn't given me a piece of paper that "proves" it.  I didn't find a single person in the autism community who disbelieved me on account of not having a medical diagnosis.  But I found a lot of neurotypical people were unable to accept me as autistic.

By the way, the video maker mentioned at the end is Amythest Schaber.  She posted a video and transcript of a talk a couple of days ago that is really worth watching or reading.  You can find it at this link.  Highly recommended.

The only other thing I posted where I posted this was a haiku.  A company called Stimtastic offered the prize of a stim toy in a random draw.  To enter you had to post a haiku about stimming on a particular day.  I didn't win.  But here's the haiku:

Beads held; caressed, pressed.
Balance in centred comfort,
They become my breath.

How I love my beads.  And how I love the metal chains I grabbed at Autscape.  I wear one round my wrist most of the time and play with it lots and when the light reflects from the little metal links in the chain I can get lost and just hold them in front of my eyes until they become my entire universe and then the feelings of wonder and bliss might overtake the feelings of sensory overload or being socially overwhelmed.  My world shrinks to a tiny point in space and time and it's wonderful.  A year ago I would never have allowed myself to stim or to find this enjoyment.  Now I am learning to and learning that it is a part of who I am, a part to be embraced and celebrated rather than rejected.  A part to be lived even when it looks odd or when the social rules say I should act "normal."  There's still a part of me that shouts at me, "Don't stim, it's bad."  And still people who would prefer I didn't do it, that I wasn't publicly fiddling with a chain or getting lost in the light on it or chewing it.  From the video at the top of this post - I have actually had someone grab my hands and say "Quiet hands!"  But no, these hands weren't made to be constantly quiet.

Three months ago today was the last day of Autscape, four days that have changed my world. One day I may write about it.  There are so many things I should be writing about.