I'm a guy from Kingston-Upon-Hull in England (United Kingdom ).|
I'm Asexual (skepticsplay.blogspot.co.uk/p/… ), a redhead and have been diagnosed by doctors as having Asperger Syndrome (a milder form of Autism).
However, according to a spiritual advisor I am infact an Indigo Child/Adult undergoing transition into a Crystal Child/Adult. If you don't know what this means, don't worry about it. However, if you are interested and want to learn more check out this link here. (www.starchildglobal.com/)
I am quite different from 'normal' people and have often been described as strange, but that doesn't bother me. I do like making friends with people, but I tend to get along better with girls. I'm not really sure why.
When I was in school, I used to get bullied every single day just for the fact I was a redhead and the way I acted due to my autism. It was hell on earth for me and for many nights, I couldn't sleep due to recurring nightmares (seeing the bullies as monsters in my dreams).
Eventually, I began imagining myself transforming into a dragon to fight back against them and destroy them for good. It gave me a great feeling inside.
However, after reading the book "Through the eyes of Aliens" by Jasmine Lee O'Neil, I realize my victory over them has already been achieved. A bully's main purpose in what they do is to make you feel bad about yourself and try to get you to change who you are.
I managed to go through all 6 years without changing who I was, and therefore I have triumphed over them for good. The dragon I dreamt up is still in my mind now (and its the same one I use for roleplaying - fav.me/d3hd8zz)
I am quite Empathic. I can feel other people's emotions and while at times it's nice to have, other times it is a burden. Whenever I see a friend or loved one upset or in pain, I start feeling pain in my Heart Chakra (middle of my ribs), which isn't a pleasant feeling. I will try to help any of my friends who need it so, and try to quicken the healing process they desperately need.
I believe that, as human beings, we all have the right to choose what we want to believe, not to have others choose for us. If you don't like what I like/believe, then fair enough. I respect your opinion but don't have a go (or swear) at me because of what I've chosen to like/believe, Instead just understand that I like something different, respect that I like it and just don't talk about it with me. If more people did this, there would be fewer wars.
Don't feel put down by people because of your beliefs, your appearance, your interests, your skin/hair colour, your age, your sexual orientation or what people think of you.
Never be ashamed of who you are...because you're awesome just the way you are!
You're not stupid, a freak, an idiot, a weirdo or a retard.
You're not 'nothing', a mistake, a waste of life or a disgrace to humanity.
You are one of a kind...and there will never be another like you!
You are unique...and being unique is cool!
Remember. Individuality is not a crime. No matter what makes us different, we are special in our own ways.
We are all human.
We are all a family.
We are all loved beyond what you can possibly imagine!
On a final note about myself, I can be quite vocal with my comments, so if I'm coming off as being annoying or 'over the top', then I apologize.
It's just my nature and I never intend to be a pain in the backside - it just kind of happens. I don't really have friends in real life due to my 'Autistic tendencies', so I try to be kind and loyal to the friends I can make here on the internet. I hope you understand.
If I comment and fave a lot of pictures by the same deviant all at once, I do become a bit paranoid as I feel I'm just annoying them.
A word of Warning: Any trolling or hating of me or my friends will result in immediate blocking from my page.
In every face, there is beauty.
In every heart, there is love.
In every mind, there is wisdom.
In every person, there is a soul,
there is life, there is worth,
and there is the ability,
to see all these things,
not only in one’s self,
but in all others, too.
Words can charm & words can wound. So choose your words with care.
Words can bring a blessing or hurt beyond repair…
Words can make us enemies & words can make us friends.
Words can make a quarrel & one word can make amends.
Words of hate are like stones flung out in anger or spite.
Words of truth are stars that give a sure & steadfast light.
Words of peace are isles of quietness in life’s troubled sea.
Words of love are like pearls strung of the threads of memory.
True friends will read and repost this. Fake friends will just ignore it. If you are a real friends, one who cares for their friends, copy and paste this.
ღ ♥ ☼ One Love ☼ ♥ ღ
----///---------|||---|||---I'm autistic and ---|||---|||------|||---|||---proud of it -----///---------///-----put this on your ------///----------///----profile if you support ----///-----or have autism
Join the aspie force, BE PROUD with us! <3
"Anyone willing to give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both."
- Benjamin Franklin
(¯`v´¯)copy and paste this
.`·.¸.·´ if you truly
¸.·´.·´¨) ¸.·¨) love and adore
(¸.·´(¸.·´ (¸.·¨¯`☆ somebody
im a dragon lover
PUT THIS ON YOUR PAGE IF YOU ARE OR LOVE DRAGONS!
And help me to support!
Current Residence: East Yorkshire
Favourite genre of music: I have a very varied taste in music
Favourite photographer: The great photographers on Deviantart!
Favourite style of art: Any that I decide I like
Operating System: Windows Vista
MP3 player of choice: I don't use an MP3 Player
Favourite cartoon character: Changes all the time.
Personal Quote: The power of the voice is greater than the power of a gun.
“Never be ashamed of a scar. It simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you.” ~Unknown
My healing journey can be described through what I call the “self formula”:
Self-Doubt > Self-Loathing > Self-Destruction > Self-Awareness > Self-Love
Mine is the oldest story in the book. Adolescent angst. Mental deception. Physical revulsion. I feel fat. No, scratch that. I am fat. This girl in the mirror is ruining my life. Woe is me.
Groundbreaking drama, right? How original of me to “feel fat.” Surely, you’ve never heard that complaint before.
Except it wasn’t just a complaint. I believed every syllable of that negative mantra, blaring like a stadium sound system, from the darkest corners of my subconscious. I felt worse than fat. I felt worthless.
If the adage is true that “we are our own harshest critics,” then I could’ve written a Doctoral thesis on Criticism of the Self: How Personal Insecurities Trigger Harmful Instabilities. Hey, that’s not half-bad for a title. Maybe I should have channeled my inner angst into writing.
Or, at any rate, done something productive.
But there was nothing productive about my response to those painful emotions. I suppressed them, denied them, allowed them to fester behind a tenuous smile and cool exterior. On the outside, I was this tough, unflappable spitfire. On the inside, I was wasting away.
Quite literally, in fact. You see, I’d developed anorexia.
A misguided soul, groping aimlessly—hopelessly—through this maze of self-perpetuated lies, I began to measure my own value based on physical appearance. It seemed easier to stifle the voices, ticking off my endless inadequacies, if I could just shed another pound. Or two. Or ten.
But the more I pined for acceptance and validation in a superficial number on the scale, the deeper I sank into despair.
My relationships suffered. My social life dangled by a thread. My self-esteem was nonexistent. And here’s the irony: in the midst of feeling utterly out of control, I still believed the solution was losing weight. A perfect body would heal the pain.
It had to.
There could be no alternative.
So, I went to work. Sculpting muscle. Chiseling fat. Denying hunger. Training for the type of physique I hoped would bring me fulfillment. Ultimately though, I still came up short.
You may be wondering: Did I achieve my objective? Did that sought-after moment of staring back at a slender reflection ever arise? Well, the answer is yes. It did. But it came without fanfare.
Rather than basking in the glory of sleek thighs and toned abs, I gaped, horrorstruck, at the reality of this barely human shell trembling before me.
Those hollow eye sockets, sunken cheeks, angular clavicles, sinewy arms, fragile wrists, protruding hips and ribcage, knobby knees—where did they come from? Who did they belong to? Surely not…me? But it was me. This waiflike frame I no longer recognized. She had my wounded gaze and plastered-on smile.
My heart broke for her.
My brain scrambled for answers. How could a person shift from vibrant to vacant seemingly overnight? Why was I just now noticing such a drastic transformation?
And then I realized something. The missing link, which had eluded me for years, clicked into place.
I could alter my exterior, but no “thigh gap” would compensate for the emptiness suffocating my interior. Therein lay the real problem. I couldn’t be satisfied because I wouldn’t allow myself to be satisfied.
No wonder that image in the mirror felt bereft. Incomplete.
My sense of “self” was incomplete.
For the first time, I wondered: Who am I? I truly didn’t know. A lifetime of placing sole emphasis on outer beauty had conditioned me to discount inner beauty. Suddenly, the truth became glaringly obvious—I needed a fresh start, and a fresh set of priorities.
Integrity of character trumps physical attractiveness. In theory, this concept is simple. So simple, in fact, that I utterly overlooked its implications. Had I not relied on fleeting “good looks” to bolster my confidence, I might have unearthed some actual substancebeneath the surface.
Better late than never, though. Once I began digging, the discoveries revolutionized my entire perspective. Those misleading voices and nagging insecurities seemed meaningless. No more cowering behind a detached façade. The curve of my lips finally felt genuine.
I became intimately acquainted with my unique qualities, talents, and quirks. Even imperfections. For instance, I’m OCD. I can’t sing. I trip over flat surfaces. I cringe at the sight of math equations. I laugh too loud and lack conversational filters. I use humor and sarcasm interchangeably.
But I’m also witty. Intuitive. Compassionate. Artistic. A wordsmith. These traits are mine. They ignite a spark that makes me…well, ME.
Once I acknowledged both my flaws and fortes, the burden of loathing lifted. A free spirit was born. Individuality embraced. Identity found.
This healing process has introduced me to myself, which is, quite possibly, the most rewarding gift anyone can receive. As spiritual beings, created to desire purpose, direction, and significance for our lives, we need personal affirmation.
We need to believe in our ability to thrive and survive this turbulent ride.
Because, face it: when you feel powerless over any given situation, the innate human reaction is to focus the blame inward.
Rather than admitting some circumstances are simply uncontrollable, you punish yourself for not being strong enough or smart enough or skilled enough to overcome whatever hardship has reared its ugly head.
At which point, you cease being an active participant in your own life.
Throughout the loneliest periods of my illness, I had no assurance of belonging anywhere. Like a gypsy, drifting from ghost town to ghost town, I was alienated from my daily realities. All because I lacked self-acceptance.
If you don’t accept yourself, who will accept you? If you don’t belong with yourself, who do you belong with?
The answer, of course, is “nobody.”
And those are questions worth pondering whenever doubt pays an unwelcome visit. Consider this: when was the last time you eagerly sought the company of someone who radiated discomfort in their own skin? Not recently, I’d imagine. It’s like a “pity party” without an expiration date.
Which is the exact unpleasantness you inflict upon your sub-conscious with every disapproving head-to-toe scrutiny.
Until you embrace each facial contour, fold of skin, and mental idiosyncrasy that sets you apart from the crowd, you’ll never find contentment.
But when you do, something incredible happens. That piercing “I’m worthless” mantra fades into a softer, gentler phrase…
I am worthwhile.
Woman with arms open image via Shutterstock
Mary-Elizabeth Schurrer is a writer, fitness aficionado, caffeine addict and yogi-in-training. She lives, loves and seeks adventure on the sunny Florida coast and believes everything is better beachside. Her blog Health Be a Hippie features healthy recipes, organic beauty hacks and exercise tips, while sending a message of personal empowerment to anyone, who stumbles upon her corner of the Blogosphere.