As a Christian woman, I sometimes watch television shows or movies on TBN. Last night, the selection was “Joseph.” In a flashback, one of Joseph’s brothers slept with one of Jacob’s concubines. (Bilhah, who bore Jacob two sons, by the way. And EW!) After checking to see that is was Biblical history, I continued to watch and learned that another son went to a prostitute who was secretly a widow of two of his sons, and been refused the third. (Semitic culture gave a widow to the dead man’s brother, who would bear two children so as to continue the dead man’s line.) My mother pointed out the obvious: “This family is a mess!” But whose family is not a mess these days? Also, look what a great nation God made out of this family! There is a lesson to me given in this: God can take a mess like me and make it into a miracle. Messes are made into miracles every day. Look at me: a pattern of sleeping with different guys, getting my money taken away, very self-hating…and I am living pretty well nowadays. I have currently stopped sleeping with people-which I don’t need to do anyway-and I can handle money pretty well. I have learned self-worth and, as they put it: “not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.” What mess are you trying to hide from God? He already knows of it. He can make a mess into a miracle, easily.
NOTE: This is a reaction blog. I have just learned about the issue.
TRIGGER: Foul language used
I have always wanted to get married, have a kid or two, and maybe lead a quiet, loving life. But, thanks to the marriage penalty of losing money and services, this is not possible.
Let me back up. Marriage penalty is the loss and reduction of services when somebody gets married on disability or social security. My mother experienced this in her last marriage. She lost so much money, probably because people think it’s the husband’s job to “take care” of the wife financially. So, since we are talking about “taking care of” a person, like a child, I find this insulting. So, are you telling me that I have to rely on my husband, who needs a second income in order to keep afloat anyway, to “take care of” me, like I am a child? I can take care of myself, thank you very much. I use these services to keep a normal life. Are you telling me I have to avoid marriage, aka live in sin, in order to keep these services? That is what it sounds like to me. There are many poverty-stricken families living in sin in order to keep themselves going at an income level for assistance. People won’t hire the autistic, and no average man can afford an autistic bride without serious help in the financial sector, so I am shit out of luck, with being single my only option. I do not like it. I do not like this one bit. My mother tells me I cannot get married because of the marriage penalty. Why is this the case in America? The marriage penalty has effectively destroyed the low-income family unit. Why?
Thank you, thank you, thank you! “Please don’t kill me” as a necessary plea is unacceptable.
Normally one uses surnames for people they haven’t met, but given the appalling way you’ve just behaved and the ignorance you’ve displayed, I don’t have enough respect for you to bother.
Let’s get down to brass tacks.
I am an autistic adult, and I am angry.
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Today I logged into Facebook. Or is it Fightback?
Gosh. I was only there to see cat pics.
The routine arguments were still in play: I don’t eat meat so why do you, I send my kid to school so why does yours learn at home, I can have a gun and you can’t make me get rid of it, and everything bad is Obama’s fault, no it isn’t, yes it is, no it isn’t, yes it is.
In that scenario, confrontations between “friends” seem to have escalated this week due to current events. Motivated by the latest issues, good people who usually post pizza recipes or the price of a new muffler were battling other good people over opposing views on flags and court rulings in addition to the usual topics. Some attacked the issue and others attacked the person. No one safe. Every view declared wrong. Perspective.
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You’ve hit the nail right on the head! I am sick of being underrated and underestimated, too.
Too short, too fat, too autistic, too brunette…do I have to add too old to my list of strikes against me? There is such a standard of perfection expected among women that it’s like a list of traits about me is a list of things women pretend in order to ward off creeps at the bar. And as they say in baseball and Hollywood, too many strikes and you’re out. Or are you?
Let me list my strikes against me, for example:
Too short (under 5′ 8″ tall): strike
Too fat (larger than size 0): strike
Too autistic (autistic AT ALL): strike
Too old (over 30): strike
Okay, this is depressing me. I can’t sit around and list all the things going against me – I’m not gunning for Donald Trump or the like. I’m not wanting a shallow, unfeeling user of a man who uses a woman up and then throws her out when she turns 40. (Maybe that’s why I’m still single. I have high standards.) That’s not what I’m all about. Besides, my mother was married at 50. That’s one strike down, for starters. She is slightly larger than me in physical size, so that’s another. Then, there’s the height issue too. She’s short as well…another strike down. Finally, people with autism get married, when they are allowed to. So, any real strikes? Not exactly. Hollywood creates such an illusion that you have to be perfect to get anything at all as a woman that it leaves about 100% of existing women miserable because they do not measure up. Yes, I said 100% of women. I have yet to see a picture that is not photoshopped within an inch of its life in a magazine…counting since the 1980s. How are we supposed to live up to this standard, and expect to catch a man who is good enough not to beat us? Maybe that’s the catch. Honestly, I have grown to hate Hollywood for this very reason. Yes, it’s supposed to be a fantasy, but even the ugly have fantasies of being loved and accepted. Are regular people not allowed to have fantasies? Sorry, but I have fantasies of love and acceptance whether you like it or not. I am going to indulge those fantasies, even if I have to do it alone for the rest of my life, because I now love and accept myself. So now, I can look at 38 and embrace it with the gusto of the next part of my life.
When the New Kids on the Block first came on the scene in 1988-1989, I was a little hesitant to like them. I tend to have a hesitation to liking new things. Maybe it’s the whole change thing which bothers me: who knows? Most of it was in talk within my Girl Scout troop. Once I learned what everyone was talking about, I was right on board. I mean, Jordan and Jonathan Knight were so hot! (We said “cute” back then.) Anyway, I was a fan until about the time Donnie got arrested for spraying some friend with a fire hydrant (Whaaaaa?) and went underground for decades, until they reemerged. Unfortunately, I have never been to one of their concerts (money being the barrier), but I still loved them.
I got teased and bullied mercilessly throughout my seventh grade year. NKOTB was one of the reasons. I guess everybody liked how I would get mad. Of course, I got told to “Ignore it” by the teachers. I got bullied at school, bullied at church, and bullied on the street. Sadly, I did not find a solution to this bullying until I was out of high school, which was to move away emotionally as far as possible, and eventually physically half across the country. As I recalled in “Facebook and the Mellaril Nightmare,” I was suspicious of people even being my Facebook friend, especially if they were from my school days. I accepted their Facebook friendship anyway, because that was the Christian thing to do. At least one has offered an apology (which I accepted), so that has turned around for me. I digress, though…
Being an NKOTB fan has its advantages. You get to fit in somewhere, which is a big thing for me, since I have never fit in anywhere. You get great music, now that they’re at the helm of things, and, for me, anyway, all that bullying was worth it.
I do have a confession to make: I tortured my sister with New Kids on the Block bedroom decorations and dolls. We shared a bedroom our whole childhood. Because of my autism, I guess I got dibs on plastering my special interests all over the bedroom. If I offended her, I am very sorry to do it. Hopefully, she seemed to like it at the time.
Hopefully, I have not bored you with one of my special interests.