Monthly Archives: June 2015
I celebrated the Summer Solstice with my local ADF grove on Saturday. I am lucky that the group planned a training ritual for that day, wherein the different parts of the ritual were briefly explained. It was a small turn out, but I was glad for that too. Smaller groups are less stressful when I am new to a group. A combination of the ritual date falling on PrideFest weekend and Midsummer not being one of the more popular High Days led to the smaller group.
One of the members made the lovely rune pictured above. He made one for everyone.
I became a member of ADF only a few days prior and obtained a guidebook for working through this organization’s dedicant path. It is nicely structured into a 52 week program with clear assignments and checkpoints to get me through the training. As I have already mentioned, I will likely not complete it in a year’s time, but I appreciate the structured guide and will follow it, stretching out weeks as necessary.
Keeping a journal for my path is optional, but highly recommended. It will be especially helpful should I decide to submit documentation for formal recognition of completion. I wouldn’t submit the journal itself, but would draw from it in order to complete the required reports.
The homework for the first week was to read the introduction to the Dedicant Handbook (a separate text from the guide I am following) and to consider the following questions:
Why have you chosen to take the first steps on the Dedicant Path?
I have been wandering around aimlessly on an unstructured pagan path ever since leaving Wicca. I am a hard polytheist, I talk to my house wight from time to time, and I am drawn to Celtic and Anglo-Saxon traditions. But outside of that, I have not been engaged in any form of regular practice or ritual. I do not even have an alter set up, though I’ve been telling myself to set one up for a few years now. I need formal instructions in order to start anything seriously and the Dedicant Path offers this.
Is this a step on your path, or will this become the Path itself?
I don’t know yet. In the sense that I will never be done learning, I would call this a step on my path. But I don’t know that I will need or desire further structured training. I need it now as a crutch until I feel confident guiding myself. I may or may not consider other ADF training programs after this.
What do you expect to learn?
- History and mythology from which to build a foundation for spiritual practices
- Good advice and techniques for learning meditation
- How to perform non-wiccan rituals
What would you like to get out of this journey?
- a closer relationship with the ancestors and deities
- a strong foundation for further spiritual practices
- confidence to continue on my path with or without further training
Do you know where this path will take you?
Not exactly, but I know well enough that it will take me closer to where I want to be with my spirituality.
If you have just joined ADF, why have you chosen to work on this immediately?
I joined ADF specifically to have access to the Dedicant Path materials. Before this, I spent several months looking around for a program of study that suited my needs. I first learned of ADF about a month ago and after learning more about it from current ADF members and the ADF website, it seemed like a good place to start with my formal training.
Does it look hard or easy?
A little of both. It seems hard only by virtue of how much time it will take, but easy in that everything will not be thrown at me at once and I can follow at my own pace.
Which requirements appear to be difficult to you now, and which appear to be easy?
Training my mind and learning meditation practices. I am very anxiety prone and I have a hard time achieving a satisfactory state of calm let alone complete control of my mind. I worry too about finding distraction-free times and places to practice. The book work appears to be the easiest. I am a graduate student, after all, book work is my specialty. This part will only become difficult when I am in the middle of a school semester, prioritizing school work over Dedicant Path reading (this is why I expect to take longer than 1 year on this path).
Do you have doubts, questions, or concerns that you need to ask about?
My current doubts are already expressed in the previous question, but I don’t feel the need to specifically ask about anything at this time. I am aware that I can request a mentor if needed, but I do not think this will be necessary.
Wish me luck everyone! (^^)
His name is Winter and my husband, Eric, got him for me for our first Christmas. Winter is almost 10 years old and he has been my bestie all this time. He is with me almost all the time. Eric gets a little weirded out sometimes when my cat stares at me for too long or exhibits other worship-like behaviors. I think he’s just jealous that none of our pets love him as much as Winter loves me :p In fact, I believe all of our fur babies love me best, lol. I’m pretty sure the cat Eric had before he married me has switched affiliations – although she tends to be a bit of a loner most of the time.
Winter has a game he likes to play with Eric. He likes to pretend that he doesn’t like him. This involves hissing, getting tense whenever Eric walks by, making weird meows at him, etc. But it’s really all a game. He likes to creep by Eric slowly to get his attention. He will wait mid-creep or repeat the process if Eric doesn’t notice him. Then, as soon as Eric acknowledges his presence, Winter warbles a long and weird sort meow at him, as if he is annoyed for being noticed. He will be friendly with Eric from time to time if there is food involved.
I love my kitty ❤
Best Christmas present ever 🙂
Asperger’s wasn’t well known when I was growing up, but even if it was, it’s possible that I would have remained undiagnosed.
Aspie females tend to be better than males at blending in and mimicking proper behaviors. But this skill takes time to develop. As a young child, I freely and unashamedly displayed autistic behaviors. Nevertheless, these behaviors were not as show-stopping as they would have been had I been a boy. More often than not, young female Aspies obsess over topics appropriate for their age and gender, wheres the boys tend to pick out more eccentric interests. Also, so I have read, boys will be more aggressive when stressed.
As far as parents are concerned, if you maintain good grades and don’t cause them undo stress, they are likely to accept all manner of quirks without being too terribly concerned. The only thing they were ever concerned about was my lack of social skills. But these, they thought, they could handle without outside help.
So what does a female Aspie’s childhood look like? Again, we are all different, but perhaps some common threads can be found.
Let’s start at the beginning.
Before my own conscious memory begins, one of my parents favorite stories to tell is about me and dryer sheets. You know those obnoxiously-fragrant and chemical-laden sheets some people like to stick in the dryer with their clothes? Apparently, as a baby, I wasn’t so offended by them. Perhaps I played with used ones, I don’t know. Anyhow, I used to entertain myself for a long time tearing these sheets up into tiny bits and arranging the pieces neatly on the floor. I didn’t eat them. I didn’t hide them all over the house. No, I just lined them up meticulously on the carpet. I’m pretty sure my parents considered my ability to self-entertain without wrecking the house to be a miracle rather than a reason to worry.
And so, much of my childhood progressed like this. I’d find something to hyper focus on for long hours and leave my parents alone. For a while, it was watching the color portion of The Wizard of Oz over and over and over again. In fact, today, my mother laughs at herself for not considering this to be a strange thing. In hindsight, she and my father agree that I was one strange kid.
When I wasn’t watching The Wizard of Oz, I was on my rocking horse.
It was similar to this one:
My mother probably has pictures, but I can’t find one that looks exactly like it online. It was a spring rocking horse that made sounds, but I don’t think I had batteries in it very often.
I rode this thing obsessively. For hours. Until I got too big for it and it broke. I think my parents got me a replacement once, but finally, they had to tell me to say good bye to rocking horses. This was sad. Very very sad.
So what next? I recall that My Little Ponies came next. Yep, I loved My Little ponies. I hated playing with other people though. By now, my parents began encouraging me to get out more and play with other kids. Ugh, I hated being told to go outside or to meet the new neighbors. But most of all, I hated playing imaginative games with toys or dolls with them. My father sometimes tried to play ponies with me. I was never amused. He’d do stupid things, like put a nasty old boot of his on the floor and say it’s a monster attacking. This made me so mad!! Incidentally, my youngest sister appreciates my father’s play style and she actually begged him to play with her all the time. Too bad she wasn’t born sooner to distract him from bothering me. lol. But it wasn’t so bad. My father was usually too busy with work to interfere often. When left to my own, I preferred to arrange my ponies into a static scene and stare at them for a long time, complimenting myself for a job well done, sometimes even imagining up the things they were doing, but not moving them around.
I had barbies too, but I never liked them as much as my ponies. The most attention the barbies got was getting dressed up and arranged on the stair-case shelves in my closet. Sometimes, I would rearrange them, or redress them, but their only purpose was to remain in an orderly way. I suppose you could say that of the ponies too, but there was more imaginative process that went into their arrangements – and they weren’t sentenced to long periods in the closet.
Eventually, I outgrew ponies. I never outgrew love of collecting them, but arranging them into elaborate scenes on the floor lost its appeal. So I found something else to occupy myself with and that was Michael Jackson.
An aside here: notice that none of my interests were peculiar, only obsessive. Becoming a fangirl too wasn’t particularly strange either, until you look into the exact nature of my fan-girling
I had identified as a fan of MJ since the age of four, when my grandmother introduced me to him via MTV. She always had MTV on at her house and I was always at her house.
But it wasn’t until I was 9 that the obsession began. I collected anything and everything even remotely related to the King of Pop. Books, documentaries, tabloids, cassette tapes. I kept a journal to collect trivia about him and eventually, I’m pretty sure that I knew more about him than he did himself. Most of my family probably ended up knowing more than they cared too because this is all I talked about. I’m not kidding. I even sometimes bothered people outside my family with it because I thought it to be a suitable ice breaker in awkward social situations.
I bought a fedora. I wore it to school everyday. Fortunately, MJ was still popular enough that I avoided too much bullying for it, but there was still a bit of mockery here and there.
That about covers my most significant obsessions as a child, but there were an assortment of lesser interests and quirks as well. I can’t even remember them all, but my parents tell me sometimes.
I remember loving to trace my hand and spend the greater portion of an afternoon filling it in with tiny dots. I used to pretend that it was armageddon or some terrible event and all the little dot people needed to get onto the hand-shaped spaceship if they wanted to live. When the space began to fill up, I got nervous for my countless dot-friends. I felt relieved for each one that found a space.
I also read a lot. I’d read until it got dark and I’d be too involved in the book to get up and turn on the light. My parents would usually show up to turn the light on for me. I carried a book around with me everywhere and insisted on reading at the dinner table even if I was told not to. I could read before I started school having been mostly self-taught. My mother tells me I used to come to her and ask her what a letter was from time to time (I don’t really remember this).
In school, I excelled in everything except social studies. I hated social studies. I didn’t do bad, but I wasn’t a teachers pet the way I always had been in math class. My parents tried to have me skipped a grade on more than one occasion, but the school didn’t allow it because of my lacking social skills and common sense. Apparently, I took a test on which I did well in every category except common sense. I don’t remember this test. My fourth grade class was a mixed 4/5th classroom and my teacher allowed me to skip the 4th grade math textbook. Unfortunately, the school didn’t allow me access to 6th grade math the next year so I did 5th grade math again. I finally got to skip a grade after I was homeschool for one year. I skipped 8th grade.
I could probably write a short novel on all my childhood characteristics, but I think you get the idea. I didn’t cause anyone trouble and my interests were in the normal-sphere besides being obsessive. Only my social skills were lacking. And, boy were they ever. I came across as pretty rude at times. I am embarrassed to think of some of the things I did and said as a kid. But at the time, I had no clue that I was being inappropriate. One odd social moment isn’t too embarrassing to share: My mother was late dropping me off to preschool one day. The kids were already sitting in a circle singing a song. I walked to the circle as if I knew exactly what I was doing, sat in the middle, and didn’t sing. My mother asked me about this and I told her that I was supposed to sit there because the kids were singing to me. haha. After all, at the time, I fully believed that I was a fairy princess, so why wouldn’t they be singing to me?
On that note, I’ll end this post here. 🙂
I’ve decided to dedicate a category of my blog to interests, talents, and aspects of my personality that don’t fit neatly into my other categories. These will often, but not always, be short posts. Little “pieces of me” that make up the whole and that I think (or hope!) will be of interest to others.
I never fail to be amazed by the power of the internet. Everything and everyone previously considered rarities of the world come together on the internet and give us the impression that they are not so rare after all. The most crazy and obscure lifestyles can be googled and entire communities found for things as unusual as “adult babies.”
The irony of the increasingly globalized world is that the more we mingle with it, the more isolated we feel in the long run. The internet gets a bad rap for destroying “real” personal relationships, but I think that it acts as a necessary side-kick to globalization.
Long ago, people lived in smaller isolated communities. Culture and tradition was strong within each group. The larger communities became, the harder it was to hold onto shared experiences and tradition. Individuality is wonderful, but when everyone is so unique that we can hardly identify with our own neighbor, it makes for a lonely world.
Introductory ramble over, let me get to the original inspiration for this post. Autonomous sensory meridian response, or ASMR. A phenomenon completely unknown to the world a few years ago, although many people experienced it long before it was a “thing.” Without the internet, it would probably still be an unknown, experienced by a lucky few who each think they are the only one in the world who experiences it. I am one of these.
For the most part, I thought nothing of it. When something triggered my ASMR, I appreciated the experience, but I rarely sought it out on purpose. For some reason, I never associated a particular trigger with the response except for while it was happening. I’d listen to a hang drum (one of my triggers) and think, “oh yeah, hang drums! I forgot how nice those are!” And I might spend the next 15 minutes or so looking up videos of people playing the hang drum (or a marimba or tibetan singing bowl). The sound alone is a mild trigger, but its stronger when I can also see the person playing the instrument.
Watching someone write on a chalk board is also a trigger. But I rarely appreciated it. It made me sleepy in math class. In fact, I used to attribute the sensation to lack of sleep and stuffy air in the class room. I took to ordering a triple shot of espresso before class in college to ensure that I would stay awake. I recently learned that my brother, too, is triggered by this and he also thought of it as an annoyance.
When I think even father back to my childhood, one of my earliest triggers was watching my mother doodle. She loved to draw house plan designs on graph paper. I don’t think she was ever aware that I liked watching her draw, and usually I didn’t creep around her shoulder for too long at a time so she wouldn’t wonder what the heck was wrong with me. haha.
ASMR was coined as a term in 2010, having gone by a few other names in the years following up to its widespread internet presence. I only heard about it last year. I was watching a video by one of the people I follow on youtube and she decided to make an ASMR video just for fun. Having no idea what that meant, I looked it up and discovered the larger ASMR community on youtube. What an exciting day that was! To find out that I am not the only one. Don’t get me wrong, being one-of-a-kind is fun, but not so much when no one can even understand what i am talking about when I explain my “unique” experience.
I had only ever mentioned it a few times before. To my mother, sister, and husband. I described it as the “warm fuzzies.” Not that the sensation is particularly “warm” but I really had no idea how to explain to it people whom I thought didn’t experience it. I have since learned that my husband is triggered by certain types of music (his music triggers are more complex than my simple percussion triggers) but when I described it to him, he didn’t make the correlation. I think because he thought that a music trigger was something unrelated to the other triggers that I mentioned to him. It seems that only two members of my family (besides myself) experience it. They, along with my husband, only have one type of trigger, wheres I am triggered by almost everything since discovering ASMR videos. There are a few exceptions. (update: it turns out that my husband was right about his sensation being different – apparently he and my sister both experience music frisson, but not ASMR. This would also explain why they are triggered by more complex music than my simple percussion-melody triggers – I do not experience frisson. It is possible for people to experience both, however)
Having a sensory processing disorder, I am sensitive to just about every olfactory, auditory, and visual stimuli there is. This goes both ways. the sensation can pleasurable, but also painful. Physically painful. I like taping, but if someone slides their nails in a particular direction on an object (not making a sound though), my teeth and face hurt. Same if someone slides a sticky object like a lint roller on a dry surface, even if only for a second. Sometimes i don’t know what will affect me negatively ahead of time and I have been unexpectedly offended by a few ASMR videos.
Although it seems like ASMR is fairly common considering how popular it is on youtube, I am curious to know how common it really is. I wonder if everyone is capable of experiencing it if they train the ability. For those who have it, I wonder if they are more likely to have only a few triggers, or many. Also, I am especially curious if there is any correlation between sensory processing disorder and the quality of the ASMR experience.
I am looking forward to more scientific research!
In the past, I have been hesitant to admit that I have an ASD. Despite that diagnoses for it have been going up in recent years, it is still misunderstood and riddled with negative stereotypes. Aspergers (now diagnosed as part of the larger spectrum rather than its own thing) is popularly associated with sociopathic behaviors. At best, NTs pass it off as an imaginary condition. If I’m not a sociopath, I’m just looking for an excuse for poor social etiquette, apparently.
I grew up with no idea that I may be autistic. Besides being a very strange little girl, I kept out of trouble. My brother stole the show back in the day for his hyperactivity and poor grades. He was diagnosed ADHD and received all sorts of special assistance and medication. Meanwhile, I spent most of my childhood in my room, engaged in peculiar activities, but generally staying out of notorious limelight. Sometimes, my parents would reprimand me for staying in my room too often or I would get in trouble for being rude to other kids. But Aspergers wasn’t well known at the time, and being a bit strange isn’t as much a burden to parents as unleashing Dennis-the-Menace stye havoc all over the place.
Believe it or not, my brother grew up to be the most mellow guy you’d ever meet. I’d hardly believe he was the same person if I didn’t know better. As for myself, I began to amass more attention the older I got. Being strange as a kid can be passed off as a phase, but into adulthood, it loses its appeal as a cute-curiosity. Once my family learned of the existence of Aspergers, they suggested I, as well as a few male members of my family, including my brother, might have it. I considered the possibility, but it didn’t change anything. I carried on about my life, certain that there was still time to “grow out of” my issues. However, as I tried to enter the professional world, my quirks got in the way. More than one person asked me upfront if I’m an Aspie. I was also told that “my type” wasn’t wanted in the teacher training program that I was in at the time.
These armchair diagnoses are peculiar considering that most people I have told since my diagnosis are shocked to find out. They tell me they would have never guessed. Of course, I really like to believe that I have overcome many of my previous social obstacles.
I eventually took myself to have a psychological evaluation because I finally just wanted to know. During my evaluation, I got the impression that I wasn’t going to get an ASD diagnosis. In fact, I was entirely expecting an OCD, anxiety, and/or sensory processing disorder diagnoses instead. But nope. She said I am definitely on the spectrum. I also received a separate diagnoses for anxiety, but she said everything I suspected was OCD is really part of my ASD.
Well, so, now what? Does this mean that I can let go of all my progress and learned behaviors in order to have a free-for-all autistic experience? Of course not! It means only that I understand myself better as I continue on my journey to self-improvement. Sure, some aspects of life may be more difficult for me than an NT, but that doesn’t excuse me from anything.
And just so we are especially clear, I’m not a sociopath. An evil genius, yes. But my plans to take over the world are morally sound (more or less 😉 ) and don’t involve violence.
It’s been a long time since I have done any blogging. But I felt like it was time to start sharing my thoughts with the world again. 🙂
After a long day in battle with the evil WordPress sprites, who didn’t want me to have exactly what I want, we have come to a suitable compromise. I didn’t want to pay $99 just for the luxury of changing a few features on some of the pre-made templates. And no, I definitely don’t want to rely on my techie-husband again for custom website affairs (conflicts therein are largely responsible for the end of my last blogging attempt).
So, now, here I am. “Shelley in the Rain.”
Perhaps I should begin with the story of this blog’s name. I have a sister who is sixteen years younger than me. When she was learning the ways of auditory and verbal coordination, she dubbed me “Shelley in the Rain.” No mere toddler mumble, this clever sobriquet came with a logical explanation. My real name, first+middle, is “Shelley Lorraine.” Furthermore, I happen to be quite fond of rainy days. The smell of rain, the pretty clouds, the melancholic feeling all around… My little sister naturally assumed that my name must be “Shelley in the Rain” and I am plenty happy to accept the error. Of all the unique names my younger siblings have given me (including Howie and Aye-Aye – which prompts my father to address me, “Aye Aye captain Howie” to this day, ugh.), this one from my littlest sister is my favorite (for obvious reasons).
After deliberating over my previously used pseudonyms (many of which I feel I have outgrown) and topic-based titles, I settled on “Shelley in the Rain,” a title that is still true to my essence. And, since this blog is to serve as an outlet for my various wandering thoughts and opinions, I chose not to limit the possibilities with a topic-based title.
Stay tuned for my next post!