through a glass darkly

Page Sixty-eight

(returning, after long hiatus, to the copying of the Soulcast posts)

sehnen posted on Jun 23, 2008 | views: 61 | Tags: in a forgotten voicex

mon 23 june 2008   Greenfield                

A digression today from my bill-rätsel, which is for someone else anyway. Instead I’m going to tell you about something I figured out today. Well, I’m not actually going to tell it to you, except to say that the thing I figured out is no small matter, and that I have to wait until the next time I see Matthew to hit him with it before I can say much more. His reaction will be important.


So now let’s further suspend regular business today by discussing the Asperger’s tests that have been conducted on me in public places and without my consent. It makes a change from the regular DMH idiocy. the first test was last Tuesday, the 17th. It was at one of those free suppers they do. I admit that I did not recognize this as a test until a day and a half later, after a lot thinking. At the time it was just supper. So everyone got in line at the serving tables except me, as I was tired of standing in line with people who irritate. And I was very hungry, which makes me rather bitchy anyway. I  was waiting for the line to go down. But then my friend, the one with the brain injury, came to the table with his food and sat down beside me. I looked over at his food, and before I could remember my manners I said: “That’s crap. I’m not going to eat it.” It was absolutely disgusting. I kept taking my eyes away from it, but then they’d be drawn back again by the horror of it. Back and forth and back and forth went my eyes, the whole time he was eating. Finally I couldn’t stand even being near that food anymore, scanned the room in utter shock to see that everyone was chowing away as if there were nothing at all wrong with it, and went off to buy a slice of pizza.

And what was this heinous, disgusting stuff on the plate that filled me with loathing? It was stuff I have been eating all my life, though I have never eaten the three of them together. Canned corn, canned peaches, canned chicken soup. All of it slimy from the can, all of it a pale, sickly yellow. Maybe I would have been okay if there hadn’t been so much of it. But on each plate there was a mountain of peaches touching a mountain of corn. Anyway, I’ve been eating these foods all my life and while it’s true I never eat them all together like that, I still don’t understand why it disgusted me so much. It disgusts me now thinking about it.

I’ve read a little bit about Asperger’s people and their little tantrums. These tantrums can come over a number of things, and one of them is food. Many Aspies have weird neurobiological reactions to certain foods. I believed I did not have them. Tantrums of mine were not allowed in my family, with one exception. I was allowed to tantrum when iIwas being taken to the hospital asthma treatment, and at no other time. Any desire to tantrum over any food was pressured out of me long ago. And also, I am my father’s daughter. That is, like him, I love food, and I love many different kinds of food, and I have his cooking knack. But I guess I was wrong about the neurobiological food antipathies. I guess I do have at least a few of them.

Update 15 July 2010: This is the day last year when I finally abandoned plotline A (that the men watching and following me were working for the DMH) and accepted, after fighting it off for a long time, plotline B (that something criminal was going on in my life). In the next couple of days I would confront Matthew about this. I’ve quoted this in another place in this blog too, but to me it’s worth repeating:   

                       me:   You guys watching me and following me. It’s got nothing                                    to do with     
                                the DMH,  does it?
                     him:    No-o.
                       me:   It’s something criminal, isn’t it?
                     him:    Ye-es.


And so it began. All the anxiety and anger that eventually became so big, slowly began. Layered over the anxiety and confusion and anger I already had about what had become of my animals, it would become way too much.

And I could certainly be wrong about this incident at the church meal having been one of the tests. Maybe just coincidence.  And yet, there were certain people there that  night who were not usually there (before or since), who were very intently watching me and my reactions to the food.

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