He said, "I use my brain halves to the most extreme separation."

September 10, 1986

Two weeks of school have past and I am getting used to it. The house is falling apart a bit, but I throw it together when I have the time. I have just tons of classes and from each a monstrous amount of work - 16 hour grids for visual studies - compositions for english - about 50 pages of reading for art history - 20 pages for humanities - a wooden toy for shop - buy a roll of film for lens media...on and on. I started a 3 hour drawing of Cris - did his face fantastically, then moved on to his hand and he moved on to his hand and he moved and rearranged everything so I couldn't continue. I applied for work study - probably won't get a job - but it's worth a try - money is really a problem to grapple with.

Cris is enjoying watching the kids. He does have a bit of trouble with ianthe - but she is just a baby and it was hard even for me to remember just what to do with a baby.

September 15, 1986

Sitting up so high in the fourth floor by the window. I can see Ann's dorm. I like Ann. When I first saw her I thought, "Oh God, She looks just like Char - gross." Not because she is ugly but because of association. I can also see the tower that is on the same block as Cris' apartment.

I try to talk to him and see what it all means to his life - but he is just so strange. He said last night that he realizes that he is using his brain halves to the most extreme separation. That he is extremely logical - philosophical and life in general - and when he does his art he is extremely emotional. There is no middle ground for him. Maybe he can only express himself through his art. There might be a way to blend things. Maybe he could tell me how he feels e.g. answer my questions through art.

I really ought to give it a try. Anything just to keep from stagnating in our relationship. I must keep it alive, changing, vibrant not only for Cris, but for myself so I do not go crazy.

Escape - that is what we desire but we are bound by circumstances. I don't think that it is as heartless as all that but it just touches the surface of how we all must feel. Cris said, "I hope that, someday we'll live in a world without love".

Love after all is just a feeling - it is not a state of being - you cannot be in love anymore than you can be in happy or in sad. Love is the feeling you get when someone is important to you - without strings attached. That is the important part - without strings or rules. I want rules but really it's all just a matter of respecting the other person's being. Love is more common feeling than people realize - it's their dependency that most people label as being love - but I can feel love with Ann or Sara or Peter for that matter. You know when something feels good. You wouldn't go out of your way to hurt others whom you feel close to, now, would you?

I ran out and bought a second "Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome" by Tony Attwood today. My first copy is in ruins, having been paged through and page worn by my three children. Aja said that the others would be relieved, that they were frightened to give it back to me in the condition it is in. I love books. I don't think you understand my love of the physical book by that simple statement. I really love books. I take great care of them. I try never to crease their bindings. Upon purchasing a softback book, I condition the spine by opening up the book, first 25 pages from the front, carefully press open holding the book spine to table. Open the last 25 pages, press them to the table, repeat from the front until you have reached the middle. Never fold a page corner to mark your place. That would be a terrible thing to do. Never place an open book face down and open upon a table to mark your spot. Make sure your hands are clean and dry. Do not sneeze into your book. I have many Book Rules. 

When I first started dating Anthony, I wanted to give him a special book to read. It is Sombrero Fallout: A Japanese Novel by Richard Brautigan. It is an out-of-print book by my favorite author. Actually, Ianthe is named after him in a circular way. His daughter is named Ianthe - that is where the name came from. So, wanting to offer a favorite book to my wonderful friend, I proffered my treasure to him in a zip-lock bag, along with a long list of instructions for its care. Anthony accepted my gift, but later returned it unread. He never dared to open the baggy. 

Maybe it is a good thing that I am planning to take up my studies again, starting with a Masters in Library Science and Information Systems (that makes my heart sing - lol) and if I still dream it, continue my studies with a Doctorate in Archival Studies. 

Books, Books, Books, lovely books, they are my friends and have helped me understand the world. I know I digressed with my book story, away from my original thought: which is an explanation about what I was thinking when Cris was confusing me with his talk about how he was using his brain. I was fascinated. 

At the time I was reading books about how to mend a broken relationships - that confounded me. I had three babies and an absent husband - one that told me that he would never divorce me, but that he would never be back. I used the advice from my relationship book. I told him that he was free. He could do what he wanted and I would still be there for him, unconditionally. Well, you can guess how well that worked out. As the next few days of this blog unfold, I will sway back and forth in confusion. Thinking "What the Hell is Going On?"

Who would have thought that people don't think exactly like me?! Or not know exactly what I want from them?! I kid, but before October or November of last year, the thought NEVER occurred to me. Hard to believe for an NT (neuro-typical), but true. Evidence of my under-developed Theory of Mind is found in the "we" statements I make in this and several entries about how "we" must feel or think. From Tony Attwood's book on Theory of Mind (ToM), which Absolutely Fascinates Me (page 120):

...due to the differences and nature of ToM abilities in the cognitive development of children with Asperger's Syndrome, they may develop a different form of self-consciousness. The child may acquire ToM abilities using intelligence and experience rather than intuition, which can eventually lead to an alternative form of self-consciousness as the child reflects on his/her own mental state and the mental state of others. This highly reflective and explicit self-consciousness has been described as similar to that of philosophers...

Now, considering the fact that I had grown up with a sociopath, I did not have the highest quality of input with which to develop the ability to recognize and understand the thoughts, beliefs, desires and intentions of others in order to make sense of their behavior and predict what they are going to do next (these are the concepts that Theory of Mind entails).

I had met Cris, three months into my 17th year. I had graduated high school at 16, and my social life was extremely controlled as a child and teen. I am 24 at the time of this entry. I had spent seven years with Cris, being told that it was "I" that was the crazy one; "I" after all, had been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic (he claimed, discounting my research and study, not to mention I was FAKING it). Seven years of developing my Theory of Mind using a narcissistic sociopath as a model of human behavior. No wonder people are frightened of me at first!

Satyriasis - the male counterpart of nymphomania

January 19, 1987

Dart thrown at Cris's forehead
Dart in the Penguin's hat
The back of my neck is all tingly
Doing dishes
Listening to Roxy Music from the recorder on the wall

January 25, 1987

A Story

U stood in the hallway of a dimly lit apartment building, listening, straining to hear the conversation within the apartment before her. She held her ear close to the door, hands outstretched as if to balance herself and not fall forward and bump the door. She held the keys to the apartment in her hand, wondering if she should use them. She heard sounds of kissing, laughing, and the low mumbling of conversation within the door. A man and a woman were in there - or was that a television?

U thought the man belonged to her. This was of course a delusion because that was not the case at all. She is feeling very threatened. She thinks of the time when she was the one laughing and kissing, having a conversation with this man. She had caused these feelings of having your "prize" stolen from your grasp by another woman who now thought of him as her own.

They had met at a party. He had been warned not to have contact with U because this woman believed or thought somehow that U was a threat.

The man was inclined to do things that he was forbidden to do, so at the end of the party, he had taken U home, much to the dismay of his present woman, who returned the next day, questioning the man in the kitchen, "What is she still doing here?"

Through the years, U had become too secure in her position as his woman. This assumption had driven the man away, seeking out another woman who might not assume such things.

U felt anxiety. Her heart was racing. She jumped at sounds she heard within. A moved chair caused her to quickly run down the hall and hide around the corner in terror. What would happen if she was discovered? Noticing that no one was coming out of the apartment, she walked down to the door, again putting her ear close to listen. This was futile! She decided to go outside to see if anything was happening.

Outside, she scanned the surroundings for elevation. She decided to climb a tree that was nearby for a look. This view was not sufficient and she gave up after 5 minutes or so.

She was in the same place: she could hide out somewhere and wait for them to come out - but what door would they use? If she chose the wrong hiding place, it would be too late.

U decided to go back inside. Within seconds she was in the hallway, at the door again. Taking the keys from her pocket to fiddle with them, she struggled with the decision to either use them and discover the man in bed with his lover or pretend she knows nothing.

U had pretended a lot about not knowing about the man and his others. She had dressed up to look like someone else and watched him with others.

She decided she might as well get it over with. She knows it will destroy her relationship with the man, but she has had enough pain. More pain than she thought anyone could bear. It had changed her.

She thought she must be quick as possible in order to catch him in his betrayal. She tried clumsily to put the key in quietly, but her hands were shaking too much. It was too late. He was aware and had rushed to the door. U turned the key, he on the other side, tried to prevent it. The door is unlocked. Push. He pushes back.

She does eventually have the door open. She is insane with rage. She wants to get inside. She uses her body as a tool not caring what becomes of it. She squeezes in and sits on the floor,  her back to the closed door, emotionally and physically unarmored. She is a rock. She is not going to move.

The other woman has fled to the other room so as not to be seen - or is that the television playing in the background?

"I expected this U", the man says, standing before her like she is the plague. He wants to get rid of her but knows not how to go about it.

U sits. She is staring madly straight ahead. She has accomplished her mission. Her heart is beating fast. She is sweating and shaking. She is not going to move, ever again.

This is an actual account of me breaking into my husband's apartment after we had split up. I had stolen his keys while he was making breakfast for the kids one morning and walked to the corner hardware store to make copies. I slipped them back before he noticed. I would break into his apartment when he was at school to read his journals, to snoop around. I was looking for more salt to rub into my open wounds. It was painful, and undeniably wrong, but I did it. I own it. 

The actual event described in the story above ended in the hallway, a physical altercation. I flicked my burning cigarette at his chest. He shoved me back. He took my keys. He ordered me out. There was another woman in the apartment at the time. I never climbed a tree to look inside.

 Below is a shot list for my video production class I was taking at MCAD. I was planning on filming this story. When it actually came down to the video shoot, Cris had come home in the morning after spending the night with another woman. I was angry. He attacked me. Cris picked me up around the waist, bruising my ribs as he threw me down on the bed. He choked me. I used my legs to kick him off. The children were watching. They were crying. I called my sister to come. I called my friend Halle to come. 

Halle took me to Stillwater to visit a friend, whose husband ironically had just took their kids and left that very day. I filmed her talking. I had to shoot something. I had the video equipment checked out. The assignment was due. I called the video "Halle Driving". I earned a "B" for the project - oh well. If I can find it, I will post it.

Video Shot List

1. Walking down street, turning into apartment building. Using keys to open doors.
2. Walking upstairs to the door - listening intently - she is going to listen.
3. The man and woman (or watching a television) inside unaware, laughing, kissing, talking.
4. The woman listening intently.
5. Inside the apartment, a chair pushed back, man gets up to get something.
6. The woman in the hallway leaping away to hide. The woman freaking out.
7. Vision of man coming out and finding her.
8. Woman hiding, decides to go back to the door.
9. Man and woman talking, kissing, laughing in the apartment - or is it a television?
10. Key in hand.
11. Vision of man and woman in bed.
12. Key near lock.
13. Another different version of man and woman in bed.
14. Open lock.
15. Man leaping to door.
16. Woman's struggle.
17. Man's struggle - as woman flees.
18. Woman gaining - leg getting crushed in doorway.
19. Woman getting in, plopping down.
20. Man staring at her.
21. Woman staring straight ahead insanely.
22. Vision of man and insane woman happy together.
23. Man confused.
24. Woman staring.