The inadequacy of virtual nicotine – an introduction…

God I need a cigarette

I haven’t smoked for three months – and I only started again last year to bond with a narcissistic ex that I should have dumped along with the habit – but shit, some days are not self-development days, you know?

I am so fucking tired of arguing with wankers. I’m tired of having to put things ‘nicely’ for official stuff because it will impact my family’s future chances if I’m not ‘reasonable’…but for fuck sake does there not come a point where you can just slap the bastards? Is there not a moment when people would stand back, look at the hoops of flaming crap you’ve had to jump through and go: “Yeah you know what, fair play?”

So…

Welcome to my blog.

I’m a single autistic mum of three autistic kids who works in live performance – have fun playing spot the challenges in that in the current climate. This blog is meant to be anonymous so I can rant without it impacting the façade I have to keep up in everyday life in order to keep working and keep parenting.

If you know who I am be nice, don’t share it to the tosspots – I have a bad history of attracting them like flies that I’m trying to shake off, so let’s just keep this between us eh?

Anyway, that’s why it’s called Autastica – not because everything on here will be about autism, but because I like the name and because autistic brains experience the world differently and I don’t want to have to keep adding that caveat every fucking blog, so sticking it in the title seems a good way to get round that. With a fair wind it might even keep the more patronising members of the neurotypical community at bay – a girl can dream….

(If you don’t know what neurotypical is then google it, like I said, I’m tired and I need a cigarette. This is not a school day.)

So here goes, my opening thoughts…

The world is exhausting at the moment. You know that I don’t need to tell you.

My need for nicotine at this moment in particular is after having completed a response to yet another amended Education and Health Care Plan for my youngest because her current school are ableist scum suckers who wouldn’t know compassion if it jumped up and smacked them in the face with my three volume treatise on “How not to be an arrogant heartless bastard who blames little kids for their failings rather than takes any level of accountability”. Okay so the treatise isn’t written yet but I can claim a level of expertise since collecting just such heartless bastards on the romantic, educational and professional front has become somewhat of an unintentional hobby. I’m trying to give it up, like the virtual cigarettes. It would be a fine, well argued treatise and very effective for smacking people around the head with. I digress…

On top of that we haven’t left the house for three months because you can’t explain social distancing to a non-speaking five year old the size of a ten year old,  who spends 90% of her time on a trampoline so is as muscle-bound as a professional gymnast and whose favourite way of understanding the world is licking it. More than that we have no contact with family – but that’s another blog for another time – so the consequences of me getting the dreaded Covid for my kids is massive.

In an added pressure – because it’s not like we’ve got enough – people are starting to question my stance on that because our PM in his wisdom has effectively torn up all restrictions and relied on good old British common sense  (because that’s been working out sooooo well recently hasn’t it?). So everyone is assuming that things surely must have improved a bit because old BoJo wouldn’t lie that much would he?  

Well, of course he fucking would. And anyone who thinks otherwise really has not been paying attention. The government just don’t want to pay out to support the vulnerable and the elderly, and Covid is a far greater killer of those that cost the government money than those that don’t. Hence the cunning plan to convince people it’s all okay, let Covid the Grim Reaper swing his massive scythe at the kind of people Tories never liked anyway  (it’s a bonus for them its heavy on the BAME community as well) and it’s a win-win for Fat Cat Twats across the land. Yay!!

(No apologies for the politics. If you disagree with me on this one trust me, this is not the blog you’re looking for. Walk away because I didn’t come here to argue I came to spout. If you try to pick a fight with me, or worse, patronisingly educate me as to the error of my ways, I will kick your arse so far into the long grass you’ll look like a misplaced meerkat. This is my playground. Leave it.)

So no, you’re alright, I won’t be doing my bit to add to the cull. I won’t be taking any risk I don’t have to that might leave my kids with no one who understands them while I’m in hospital or worse. I won’t be taking the risk on medical staff seeing “autistic” on mine or my kids notes then handing out the Do Not Resuscitate orders like birthday invites. I won’t be joining your barbecues, street parties, dance offs, orgies or any other unmasked, non-socially distanced, Covid-soup-catered get-togethers anytime soon.

In fairness I wouldn’t have been joining any of those before lockdown – no-one invites that odd woman they don’t quite ‘get’ with her equally weird kids to anything anyway. We’re either an inspiration or a sob story to most of the outside world and neither of those things are considered particularly fun at parties. I’ll be honest, that’s mostly okay with me, I’m largely anti-social outside of work – there are far too many dull or ignorant people out there to make socialising at all worth the sensory hangover in most situations. The rare exceptions to that rule are a joy.

So that’s your introduction to me. Given the chance I swear too much, I’m far too direct and I rub people up the wrong way for reasons my autistic brain can’t fathom. I’m also easy going, fiercely loyal, love to laugh, frighteningly intelligent to many apparently, and deeply passionate about the stuff I care about – and always frustrated that single autistic motherhood leaves me too knackered and unsupported to pursue the half of it.

But you’ll see that if you stick with this.

I’m off to watch an old Hamlet advert to see if the virtual hit of nicotine hits the spot…

Until the next time…