Reflections on Aspergers

I seem to be writing a fair bit lately. While sitting here smoking my latest fag, I've just twigged. I have already tried to tell you about the non-stop mental activity, the vortex of swirling thoughts, the mental bombardments. These are all a part of my everyday life. What I have been doing lately is to try and capture what is going on , to put it into writing while it is still fresh. Of course I can only write but a fraction of what I think. When I look at my blogs, I find it astonishing to see before me a diary, which describes some of my inner life.
I feel rather like the balloon on the right, with its autistic spectrum colours.  I have taken a good, hard look at myself. I see both the beautiful and the ugly, and try and look at both with equal objectivity. Being the spastic that I am, I find subjectivity difficult. Anyway it's not the right tool for the task in hand. I have found that writing has empowered me, by giving me a growing sense of who I am. I feel that I am very close to meeting myself for the first time. Like the balloon, I am riding high. I no longer feel ashamed of who I am, well not usually. My recent journey has been difficult and excruciatingly painful. The wonderful group of souls who are my family have helped me to fly high. Last but certainly not least there is one wonderful person I must mention in relation to my journey; my brother.
When I first met my brother, he reminded me of the person I once was. However last August, I was going through life having deluded myself into believing that I was coping, therefore no further action was needed. My brother told me quite openly that he had Aspergers, and I told him about my own issues. Since then we have talked about our experiences in life. We have actually had parallel lives. We did different things and lived in different places, but have experienced the same behaviours from others, and had similar reactions. We both had 'father' issues, and both our mothers suffer(ed) from depression. We've both had breakdowns and difficulties holding down jobs because of our mental difficulties. We've both had abusive partners in the past, and have been overworked by exploitative employers. My brother has given me some wonderful gifts; a sense of not feeling weird, the wish to go for diagnosis, and the will to take my music seriously. If it weren't for my brother I would not be writing now. My brother told me that the gift I gave him was hope. What a wonderful gift, and it cost nothing. Be strong brother. Don't give up. Don't put yourself down, but hold your head up. Embrace your incredible talents, and enjoy them. Be happy.