Something I have always been known for is my ability to focus on only one thing for extended periods of time. It is a gift I lost, as a parent. It was difficult to fully relax, knowing that I was essentially on call if any emergency ever arose. I fell away from a lot of my favorite hobbies, including photography. I like to take my time to properly set up a shot, and then fiddle with the results. That was hard to do when I was acutely aware that there was a 30% chance I would be interrupted before getting the payoff of the beautiful shot. I thought I had gotten bad at photography. Turns out, I was just too anxious to do things the way I know how.

That is all over, now. My kids are all adults. The youngest is off at college and THRIVING. He loves talking with us because he is just talking about things he enjoys. Nobody is nagging him about tasks, so he doesn't get defensive. He isn't badgering us to help him with things he can do himself, so we aren't getting irritable. I really like this. And, joyfully, I can finally focus on photography. Here are some of the results I am most happy with. All of them took a minimum of twenty minutes, including finding the right angle, re-adjusting my settings, and waiting for the exact right moment.

My last actual words entry was pretty heavy. Things have improved a lot since then. I had my surgery, and have mostly recovered from it. I bought my new car, so I don't feel trapped anymore. Most importantly, my kid seems to have finally accepted the idea that we are not gonna ditch him. He has been casually making comments and jokes about what his life is going to look like ten years from now. Twenty. Fifty. We are still there in his mind. He talks about bringing his kids to visit and the ways we will spoil them. He talks about how he will bring all his college friends to our house for Thanksgiving. He talks about how when he is fifty and we are 70, he will still make us carry him around when he is tired. The first time he did it, I had to work hard to stay cool and not just burst out crying.

Along with this belief that we will still be around, he has developed a genuine interest in treating us fairly. He cleans his own messes. He monitors his own medicine. He hangs out with us by choice. This is the part everyone told us would come, if we kept our patience and stuck to the behavior plan. They were right. I am glad we did. I am glad we made the sacrifices we made to prioritize his mental and social development. He seems to have gotten over some of his internalized shame, and he believes he is capable of being a good person. That gives him the motivation to act like a good person.

This is probably going to be one of these lessons he learns every few years for the rest of his life. We all have them.

I am overwhelmed today. And I have been for a while. I didn't realize just how much heavy lifting Amyloban was doing for my mental health. I can't wait to start taking it again. It dulls the sensory input circuitry enough that I can tolerate things like annoying voices, daylight-balanced light bulbs, and being asked questions when I'm in the middle of an activity.

I am also frustrated right now because my kid has been slamming me behind my back repeatedly. 2 weeks ago, he called and asked for $5. I said no, both because I didn't feel like giving it to him, and because I didn't have any money in the automatic transfer account. He could have already had the money, because his report card came a week prior and he gets paid for his grades. But he kept procrastinating on adding up the amounts, even though we put the chart and the report card right on his desk. We removed every single barrier except the part where he actually needed to do the work. He also has had a paycheck sitting on the counter for 2 weeks, that he never got around to cashing because he never got around to putting the bank app on his phone and every time he asked to go to the bank, it was closed.

Anyways, I said no, he immediately hung up. Then he accidentally pocket dialed me and I got to hear him call me a lying fucking bitch, the n word, and other lovely things. He is mixed race, but looks white and cannot get away with saying the n word in public. He was in the gas station. I'm honestly surprised he didn't get punched in the face. I am also mixed race, but also look white. I have been called that word before, but only with the word Sand in front of it, and only by people who have seen me with my family. I'm Arab, not Black. So it also was just, inaccurate? Oddly specific? It probably looked to outsiders like he was a light skinned half white kid complaining about his Black mother. It really hurt me that the second I didn't do the thing he wanted (that he could have done himself and that I repeatedly reminded him about) he slammed me so hard. It also embarrasses me to know he is using that kind of language in the community, where people who know us can hear him. It reflect poorly on me, and negatively impacts his ability to form positive connections with people.

Later, he apologized, but it was a half apology. he said he was in a fight with his girlfriend, and I just "caught the heat" from that. I told him that I don't care why, I care that he did it. It was not okay and will never be okay. He said he knows. He said he wouldn't do it again.

Two weeks later, Husband was picking him up from his birth mom's house. She was worried about the rain, because the news was reporting accidents, so she told him she was worried about them making it home safely. Husband told Kid to call her when they got home to let her know he was home safe. He said he couldn't, because I refused to give him her number. Which, I had given it to him 4 different times. He is there every week and could have gotten it from her at any point. She obsessively makes lists of numbers and hangs them up around her house. He could just read it. he didn't, and then blamed me. Not only that, but made it sound like I was actively trying to keep him from contacting her.

Husband was angry at him and told him that was a stupid reason. He kept insisting it was true, so Husbands said he would put the number in his phone himself when they got home. Kid said no, he was tired, and he would go to sleep and do it when he got up. Husband said he would just turn off the power to his room until he called her. Then he did just that when they got home. Kid threw a mega pout about how we were denying him his basic rights. Mind you, we have a 5 bedroom house with 3 unused rooms. 2 of those rooms have beds. We have two living rooms. He still had internet, his own phone, computer, access to food and water. The only thing he didn't have was the air conditioner in his room, which was already 63 degrees.

I was pissed, so I called my father-in-law for advice. He said that when kids throw tantrums, you have to give them what they want. But give it to them tot eh point that they have to face their own absurdity. he recommended leaving post-its with his bio mom's number on it around the entire house. Sow e did that. Kid saw me as I was putting the final ones down, snatched them from my hands, and told me I was being aggressive. Which, I was putting paper on a wall. He physically took something from me. No question over who was actually being aggressive. He threatened to call the police. We said okay, go ahead. Instead, he called his mom. He showed us he called his mom, and told her he was home safe. So, then, that worked.

But the next day he demanded an apology. Fucking what? After all that monstrous behavior, you want a fucking apology? How about you apologize? But I swallowed that reaction because that's what parents and decent people in general do. We fight the impulse to be aggressive because we know it doesn't help anything in the long run. Instead, I sat with him and made a flowchart of all his actions, where they led to, and where different actions would have led. Then we did the same with Husband';s actions and my actions. At the end, he said he realized that Husband's actions were motivated by compassion and love for his bio mom, and a desire to help him keep their relationship positive. He realized that his actions were motivated by not wanting to be told what to do. He is now in an awkward limbo where he knows I am still upset, but doesn't know how to fix it, and I am pretty sure he's convinced himself that I am being unreasonable. After all, he only threw me under the bus last time to stay on good terms with his girlfriend. He only threw me under the bus this time, because he wanted to stay on good terms with his dad. It's not like he meant it, he was just angry. But deep down he knows. He knows that he was mean and hurt me. He feels guilty and ashamed, because he has not yet separated the idea of doing a bad thing from the idea of being an irredeemable monster.

I want to not be angry anymore. But I am. Both because his actions sucked, and because I am in pain and not allowed to take the medicine that keeps me calm. I act neutral/positive around the kid. I don't express my anger. But he can tell its' there because he is perceptive. And he doesn't know what to do about it. And neither do I. It's not like he is an uncaring jerk. he does love me and actively shows it very often. For mother's day, he bought me the Lego set that I had said I liked months ago. That means he actively remembered, took note, and saved up to get get something he knew I would love. He pays attention to my interests and actively tries to engage with me about them. He tells his friends to talk to me when they're upset, because he trusts that I will help them feel better. He asks for advice about things when he is confused by the world. He's just also impulsive, and makes snap actions that he later feels he has to defend, because otherwise he would have to admit he was wrong, which in his mind is the same as being unlovable. He doesn't realize that the solution is to accept that there is a part of him that does hurtful things, that it is the same part that exists in every human being, and then learn how to turn it off when it is directed towards other people.

His actions were terrible. They were honestly no worse than the things I did at his age. We have things in common. We both have been abused by people in our family (we adopted him for a reason). We both have felt powerless and never want to feel that way again. We are both incredibly autistic and do not understand social norms. We both have to learn what other humans will tolerate through trial and error. We both would rather wear a full-body blanket in public whenever possible, and have to handle the -1 psychic damage any time we aren't doing that. We both cannot stand the hum of lights. We are both prone to locking away our feelings until they explode, and both tend to direct that explosion at someone we trust not to walk away. I am just twice his age, so I have twice the practice at figuring out healthier ways to handle those things. When I was his age, I did horrific things. Things I would be ashamed to admit in public. Things no one would ever have expected of me. I had to learn that there is a part of me that is aggressive. That feels powerful when I hurt others. That feels safe when I feel powerful. That the feeling is a lie. That true power is being able to look yourself in the eye and feel proud of the way you handled a situation, even if ti does leave your ego battered. That backing down is almost always better in the long run than standing your ground.

That's why I wrote this entry. Once I put everything down on a page, it was no longer looping in my brain. I could see the start and end, and then let go of the drive to hold all the details at once. I could remember that backing down and showing love is the right choice. I could remember that sticking to my behavior plan for him has been yielding good results. When we got him 5 years ago, he was so aggressive and destructive that he was destined for life in a locked ward. Now, he has a full ride scholarship to a prestigious university, he will be entering with 18 credits already under his belt, and the worst thing he has done all year is use unacceptable racist language in public. That is something people will dislike him for doing, but it is not something he will be arrested for. It's easy to forget, now that his life is so cushy, but this isn't a spoiled brat who never had to work a day in his life and is balking at the concept of being told no once. This is a kid who spent his 13th birthday homeless because his foster family threw him out for having a tantrum. The behavior is the same, but the root cause is the opposite. He does't need to learn that consequences can be lasting. he already knows that all too well. He needs to learn that consequences DON'T have to be forever. When he knows he CAN be forgiven, he thinks it's worth trying for it. He wants to form positive connections. He just needs to know it's possible. That makes all the difference.

Tonya, my beloved car, is out of commission until further notice. That is a bummer. Some guy smashed her up real good when I was at a stop sign. These things happen. Dave the tumor has gotten aggravated by the crash. These things also happen. I got a cold from the ER when I was there, but it is not covid. These things happen as well. Trying to be more optimistic would be easier if bad things stopped happening.

Yesterday morning, I came downstairs to my kid playing Roblox while listening to a song. It was a song I hadn't heard in nearly 20 years. It was my dad's favorite song to play on guitar. I'd actually never heard the original before. The Wanderer by Dion. Apparently it was originally meant to be in Fallout 4, before Dion discovered what the game was about and withdrew the license. I never heard it as part of the game, but it stuck around on some unofficial fan playlists, which my child was listening to, and which happened to be at that exact part when I walked into the study. The incredible confluence of events that conspired to me, half-asleep, humming along to my dad's favorite song, before I regained consciousness enough to realize my autopilot was decades out of date, had me nearly in tears. I love that he so clearly belongs in my family. I love that somehow, despite sharing no genetic overlap, he inherited traits like the same favorite song, from a man he never met who died when he was a baby. His footsteps sound like my younger brother's. His rebellious streak leads him to shout the exact words I used to shout at my own parents. His jokes are ones that my dad would laugh hysterically at.

I don't believe everything happens for a reason. I gave up on that a long time ago, because it seemed cruel to believe some higher plan decided my life would include this much agony. But if there is a reason, it was this. I am the parent that this kid desperately needed, and I would not have been, if I hadn't had those experiences.

Have some pictures of overly dramatic trees:

Yesterday, I met a friend to go on a photo walk together. I had no idea until a couple weeks ago that photography was even an interest of hers. She was always someone I had considered "too cool" to actually enjoy being around me, but, as it turns out, she's just really good at looking cool at parties. That was an exciting discovery.

We were practicing action shots in a variety of lighting, to help her get the settings right before her gig today. That mainly consisted of me leaping around a field and spinning in circles, while she took pictures at various aperture and shutter speeds. I discovered I have no idea what ISO means, and I still don't. I should probably look it up at some point.

I was shooting on my Canon Powershot sx120, which once belonged to my niece's birth mother. Everyone hands me their old tech when they're done with it. The memory card had some baby photos, and that was a nice trip down memory lane. I also like that it takes standard AA batteries, because I didn't have to hunt down a power supply for it.

Reviews on this camera said it has an issue with chromatic aberration in high contrast areas, so that is what I focused on. Chromatic aberration holds a special place in my heart. I only learned the term a few years ago, but I have been seeing this way most of my life. I would try to explain to the teachers that I wasn't daydreaming, I was just looking at the rainbows hiding in the corners of everything. Nobody believed me, of course. I was prone to telling outlandish stories, and this fit the theme nicely. I only recently learned that it is a real phenomenon, and the reason it affected me was because the extra thin polycarbonate lenses I used caused too much compression at the edges. Switching to plastic helped reduce the distractions, and also reduced the price. Win-win scenario. I do still see the rainbows, but only if I go looking for them.

On this photo walk, I went looking for them. I tried some modifications to both reduce and exaggerate their appearance. Below are the results.

This is the original:

The low resolution is partly due to it being an older camera, and partly due to this being a cropped portion of a larger photo. The aberration here is more green/purple than the traditional blue/red that I usually see.

This was an attempt to reduce the aberration using sharpening features.


This helped with the resolution, but kept the aberration. I also ended up with some image loss at the edges of the tree, where the smaller branches are.

Next, I tried desaturation and upping the contrast:


As far as making a salvageable image for realism purposes, this was the most reliable option.

And, last but not least, I turned the saturation way up to get the most aberration I possibly could.



This one is my favorite by far. It looks closest to how I saw the world through those polycarbonate lenses. It brings back fond memories.

My Flickr account is currently experiencing technical difficulties. I am still taking pictures. I just can't edit or share them. Rather than wait until I can host photos again, though, I decided to make a few more text-based posts. Writing things down helps me organize my day.

Yesterday was alright. I've been feeling a bit over-isolated, and talked to my husband about it. He suggested I set up a regular time to meet with different friends, so that every day I have a reason to get lout of the house. Intrinsic motivation is not a strong skill of mine, but chronic people-pleasing is. I can use it for good instead of evil. So I am meeting with one friend every Monday morning for a walk, and another friend every other Friday for photography exploration journeys. I just found out she is also a photographer, and that is exciting.

I want to get more days with other friends, but I am facing a challenge. I have a couple of friends who have social anxiety. They tend to see these invitations as a form of compulsory politeness gesture. They think the socially correct response is to decline the offer. I don't know how to explain to them that, actually, I feel incredibly lonely, and badly want companionship. It sounds like a guilt trip, rather than a reassurance that the invite is genuine and does in fact benefit me. I just want them to understand that my offers are not charity. That I genuinely actually want to be around them on purpose.

I am bad at expressing such things. I don't know the balance.

I also went to the gym today, and did some weight lifting. It is incredible to me when I think back on where I started, vs where I am now. I got strong! It's good to have the capacity I remember, again. I used to throw human beings into the air and catch them. I bet I could do that again. I just need to find a human being who will let me throw them.

Creative writing takes up a large part of my free time. That is fun. It's incredible. I love to explore the confusing facets of life through the safe filter of a character I made up. I share the stories with some fellow writers. People try to guess which character is secretly me, and they all guess wrong, because the real answer is that they're all me. Characters have to follow a narrative, which means they have to be cohesive from scene to scene. Human beings have no such restriction. We can be hypocritical and contradictory multiple times a day for any reason at all. Skipped lunch? hmm, now you're an asshole. Had a really good shower? No one has ever been as sexy as you. Slept poorly? You're convinced everyone hates you. Spent a couple hours outdoors in good weather? You are at peace and capable of anything you set your mind to.

People are weird as fuck. It is an ongoing struggle to write one singular character that seems genuine to the human experience. They just seem unrealistic when pinned down on paper. Terry Pratchett does the best job at this out of all authors I know. Studying his work helps me get a feel for how to introduce asshole traits while keeping characters sympathetic.

Today was Pi Day, and I made roughly three kinds of pie to celebrate. It was technically three and a bit, because some of the apple pies had different configurations, but it is easier to just round to three.



Kid won a contest in school for being able to recite pi to the most decimal places. He still doesn't have us beat, but he was proud of himself. He won a pie for that, but he ate it at school. Terribly selfish of him. Kids these days, always winning math competitions and not giving their prizes to their parents...

Husband went out with a friend tonight. I am incredibly proud of him. He has been working on learning how to socialize. This particular friend has been not-so-subtly asking him to hang out for years now, and he didn't pick up on it until a couple months ago. They play Magic together. Fucking nerds. I didn't go because I got stabbed in the uterus by my uterus, and the blood loss is extreme. Maybe next time. It's too bad, really, because I have the perfect Pi Day outfit on.

I've been away from here for a few days. I've been learning how to use photoshop to draw, and that is fun. Nothing I want to share on here, but I am gaining new skills, and may show them off soon.

Friday I spent 6 hours in a meeting with some friends who are trying to start a sewing business. We were trying to come up with a perfected design for my compression bandage. We did not achieve that goal, but we DID learn about 47 ways to NOT make a compression bandage! So that is something.

Yesterday lasted about a million years, but I fell into bed after a day fully realized. My kid's best friend turned 18, and that is a thing to process. I knew this kid as an awkward middle schooler. Now, he can vote. That is wild to me.

I don't have too much to say about this weekend, I guess. I helped a friend buy a couch, helped with some high school drama issues, went to a hockey game, and bought ingredients for pi day meal. I overdid it, and will be sleeping hard tonight. The end.

The more I go out with my camera, the more I start to notice beautiful details about the world that I would have normally overlooked. Like this rusty snowplow marker:



Or this broken stump that looked a bit like a video game spike pit if it was made of moldy cheese:



I am even starting to appreciate things about the world that had previously annoyed me. Where I live, moss grows on almost every surface. It is difficult to keep at bay, and it can cause expensive damage to structures. It makes the ridges slippery and difficult to climb. But it is also pretty in its own way. When it isn't eating through the roof.



It feels good to be back in touch with the world again. It feels good to do some attempts at slight realism. It feels good to be able to reflect on my day with these little write-ups. I know I will be writing about my day later on, so I pay more attention to what is happening around me. I've been keeping a journal in some capacity since I was about 15, but I fell out of the habit in the past few years. I didn't get enough time alone to actually write down my thoughts, and when I did, my hands hurt too much to actually do so. But things get jumbled up inside my brain, a tangle of vague concepts and feelings that bounce around in no particular order. It drives me crazy in increments. Writing helps me pin them down, place them in order, and make sense of them all. I can talk for hours and get nowhere, aggravating everyone around me in the process with my endless repetition. Or, I can write for 30 minutes. If I'm able to see what my previous thoughts were, I can figure out what these new ones are, and where they fit in. It helps me understand what I feel.