By Her Stripes She is Healed

Hannah Capps

Let the Redeemed of the Lord Say So
Joined
Jan 29, 2006
Messages
1,281
I'm trying to find a way to communicate in a 'non-heavy' aka. depressing way with those around me...I asked mom again today why she told me what she did about a blog post I read to her, now I understand sort of a tad more then I did before...The thing is Mom was telling me that I needed to find some 'level-headed' people to proof read my blog posts...Keep in mind that I omit a load of curse words...Apparently its the way I word things that is the issue, and others view this as 'hot under the collar' according to Mom...I was trying to convey to her that I was not angry when I posted that blog post...Eventually she huffed and told me that "I cannot concentrate on my bills here, come back when you can small talk' more or less that is what she was implying...And now I don't wonder why I sleep the days away, or speed or don't eat or eat to much etc...And do what is on my lists left for me of daily things to do..."Depression isn't an excuse to not complete the list in its entirety"...Coming from someone who has depression yes, but not depression and autism...I do the best I can and it is as though that isn't good enough to try and stop the yelling and the confusion...Its still there regardless of what I do...And I for whatever reason cannot come to terms with this...I crave the approval of mom and dad...And by the same token, they give me the impression that I burden them with my mind numbing drivel...I need a soul who understands...And its hard when that only soul is the Creator of the Universe...IE. God...I'm trying so hard to let that be enough...But, my efforts as it says in the Bible are as filthy rags...So as for the point of this post...I'm crying and on the verge of sliceing open my skin again...As if tears aren't enough, blood must be split...For as it says in the Bible...'Without shed blood there is no remission of sin' and I have many sins...So many, that the only exit is another scar to add to the already heady collection on my arms...I need help, assassinate and folks in the real world aren't willing to step up to the plate...
 
Find someone you trust and have them point out issues in your writing and/or point out when you say things that sound "bad". I know I have a tendency to come off as angry and/or cocky a lot of the time when in my head I'm actually trying to be funny or sarcastic or just plain straightforward. It helps when I have someone to directly point out what the issues are so I can work on correcting them. It's certainly not easy, though...
 
hannah in all honesty I am always a bit nervous, but mostly vert curious to see what you have posted, just for a while, write what you will, get you point across,,, then step back for 10-15minutes and reread what you had written, but try and imagine that you just stumbled across what you are reading for the first time. im certain you will pick out expressions or choices of words that are less daunting/extreme/upsetting or disturbing.

you can convey what you mean choosing words that will encourage readers to continue, and you can do so with practice, stepping back re reading , re phrasing, and re wording/writing.

it will become a habit eventually.
 
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Its strange this thing of a cage...This outcry within my soul... Ruddy tears streak my four arms “Eli Eli Lama sabachthani?”...My correctional institution of this self divestment...my eyes are inanimate orbs within my skull...Shrouded in death...The spirit is absent...Dividers enclosing upon my form...I tie-up my mirror image...This looking glass is destroyed...'It is finished'...yeshua's in my head, He is the Lion of Juda piercing my haemorrhaged liveliness...The tango of the deceased play there Dirge within my head...A Requiem of what erstwhile existed...What once was, has been exterminated...Expectancy is for tomfool's... “Who needs a heart, when a heart can be broken?” I attended the crucifixion today in the shower...The edge tool did a marvelous work on my saturated skin...<Edit>So too am I pierced for my transgressions...Mine is a less hallowed task...But one that is full of self-abhorrence...and endurance for the sake of psychopathy...
 
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How to write something that has been inscribed countless times prior to this one...Facts are things that I cling to (or used to) the reality that I have becomes hazy and lines blurred between the real world and the one I've created within...It isn't unusual for a female with high functioning autism to escape to her own dream world...I've been doing this sense I was a child...Things in this overstimulating fast passed society became to much, and in an effort to protect my disabled mind I would 'Zone Out' or 'Autisticly Zone Out' It isn't uncommon for females with the high functioning autism to be diagnosed later on in there life...Mine was much later on...Apparently I fooled the doctors, nurses and psychologists into thinking I was everything but what I really am...Autistic...It only took the diagnoses of a female nuro-psychologist to see that I did indeed display the symptoms of the disorder...If one speaks with me for an extended period of time, say over 45 min.'s if that eye is of a trained professional who knows to look for the clues and holes in the development of the conversation that are lacking...Then the diagnoses followed by a battery of tests, and other things to come to the conclusion of autism...When I was informed of this, it really didn't change much for me at first...But, over time as the reality of what had been placed upon my already weary shoulders sunk in...I lost it...how dare they not diagnose me sooner then age 20?! Did they not understand that would have aided me through all those pain filled tormenting years of school? Now they just expect me to continue my education at Liberty University as if nothing is wrong? It was towards the end of my freshman year at LU at the time and this is where my memory of the events following my diagnoses to about age 22 are hazy at best muddled at worst...I had been working on an assignment for freshman English and at the time was working to the best of my ability but the professor of this class felt I was 'lazy'...IE. Raised my hand in the class engaged in the material, and did poorly on tests...this was a sign of the autism and an area in which I displayed unavoidable weakness...But, he was convened that it was 'lazy'...I still being confused about my autism, hadn't really delved into researching anything about it, and even if I had, frankly there wasn't much information on females with high functioning autism in 2003...So, desperately trying seeking a way out of my mental anguish and overstimulated state...I saw my pair of scissors across the desk I was sitting at...An idea like that of lightening struck me at that moment...Quicker then was average, I grabbed the blades that welcomed me into there embrace...<Edit>...There was a tranquility that set in...the calm after the said storm...And I knew that I'd found redemption in the object of a lancet...Sense this event, I've identified with the figure of Christ within the pages of the New Testament...By my second year at LU I had to declare a Major...So it was Biblical Studies with a study on the historical aspects of the Old and New Testament's...I devoured the Word in a entirely new fashion...I saw this 'Good Book' through the eyes of my own self-hate...It was through these crimson stained glasses that I saw this Gospel...And it was and still is to me the way that I see it...I do not find the peace that the other believers speak of...I do however find peace in the pain of the Bible...Honestly, at present I'm content to wallow in this mire of dried blood...I do not think I'd be willing to give up this cozy cage...I'm unafraid of death of my mortal self...More of what the Savior will think upon me seeing his disappointed gaze...That is something that I excel at...Disappointing others... “You could have it all, my empire of dirt...I will let you down I will make you hurt”...
 
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