Powers that be can’t control me…

Fun fact: I keep slips of paper in my clear fake hipster phone case. Ya know the ones you buy on Amazon for $7.

Not in a “I’m a pack rat basketcase” way, but in a “Everytime I get Chinese, I keep the message” way. Seriously, I Do!

I keep those fortune cookie quote/note thingys as a constant reminder of what took one dude five minutes to write can/will inspire me for a lifetime. [So the jokes on the author of those things !]

Now… I can already feel it coming…

One or ten or a hundred or even half the population of y’all is going ask, “Are you crazy?!” for openly admitting that. And to avoid the stereotypically sarcastic cliche comebacks. I ,your honour, will confirm anytime/anywhere (and in my best Foghorn Leghorn, South Carolina drawl) that YES… I am!

And have been since the womb days when I would play ‘Kick the sour cream tub off mom’s stomach’ in the comfort of my dark, viscous protections.

In a sense, I am what my own and younger generations call “Extra” , and what older generations call, “Too Much” and demand that I “Stop that and calm down” !

But does keeping words of encouragement add on to my ever growing list of reasons why Nurse Ratched* should supervise my every move?

Ummm no… Duh..

For I never have ever believed that a tiny piece of tree -that could’ve been delivered via bewildered carrier pigeon- can or will determine any future, fate, or destiny of my own.

And to be quite honest, I Hate It when people take something of spiritual guidance (tarot cards or psychics) as solid truth and rant about how their life is predestined!

For to give up control or mistake words of empowerment/guidance/spiritualism as figurative stone is Way More Wild than diving into Piranha infested waters wearing Lady Gaga’s VMA meat suit, or to skydive into a Very active volcano and expecting to come out a radioactive superhero.

But as a person who grew up in a spiritual household, I was also taught to question everything! So when I put a new fortune cookie note thingy in my phone case, I never let it determine my life!

I let the words Empower and Encourage me to take control of my life! And stay positive!

And don’t even TEST ME on how fucking hard that can be!

So next time you get Chinese food or a tarot card reading, take those words with a dash of C5H8NO4NA …

*cough cough… MSG…COUGH COUGH*

Author’s note:

*Film buff moment: Watch “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest” for the reference

#autism

Being alone is tough, but if the universe and my whole being could just listen for a second…

I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself, but hello reader…

My name is Lorelei-Ashley Jendek. I am a very light tan Latina mixed race gal born and raised in Granada Hills, Los Angeles, California (but now live in Arizona). And I am high functioning Autistic person who-at the moment- feels trapped in a mental and emotional bondaged state of life purgatory where the axe weilded pendulum disguised as time and important life decisions is slowly swinging towards my throat.

I identify as feminine gender fluid and pansexual. I identify as a RUSH and Bastille fan (use Spotify to learn about those bands). I identify as a softcore version of the perfect description of what a Sagittarius should be. I identify as a lot of things, but there’s one thing I cannot identify as…

Ready to fall in love.

I want it! So bad! But everytime I swipe through Tinder or ask friends for advice , my mind goes into a silent and vindictive over drive that reminds me of my past experiences, of how hurt I got, and what the end result was…

A Dammaged Lorelei. Confused in separating what my body wants (and it wants A Lot) and when is my mind Finally going to catch up with the program and fucking RELAX!?

But I have to be kinder to my mental health, right? It has had to see 25 or so years of neglect and abuse from people it was forced to be with. And said people Truly did Not love it. It had to journey and fight off the pain of trying to love someone in uniform who couldn’t even love themselves enough to stop underage drinking and calling in the middle of the night. Who also physically hurt me.

So though my mental health has seen a lot of bullshit through my dark brown eyes. It has also seen a mother who struggled by herself to make ends meet, but made time to be with her babies. A mother who found love in technological place and is now happily married. Has seen an older brother struggle with people accepting his own sexuality, but after many years has found the most incredible partner that Wants to create an epic comic book life with him. And an older sister who has found a husband within the isolated beauty of Arizona.

So why does my mind focus on the bad? I have forgiven everyone who caused me pain. I’m even still on the most beautiful self love journey anyone can do. But I still carry this lingering saran wrapped feeling of unease. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And it fucking sucks! But… maybe what I guess I need in the words of Bonnie Tyler (Spotify people! Use it!) is a hero!

Maybe not in shining armour or on a valient steed. But someone who makes everything click! Someone with their Own Life and Doesn’t want to jump on mine , someone who loves to change and to create as years go by, someone unafraid of facing challenges, someone who will love me through all my trials, tribulations, and quirk-quarks…

**Or someone like Dan Smith from Bastille! Is he single? Hahah, just kidding! **

But until I find that someone that can make the sparks and clicks I need and want, I’m going to be kinder and love my mental health more.

Before I go… Read the picture inserted in this post. As wild as Jaden Smith may seem, these true as fuck words have guided me through some busted ass times! So hark! Hark and live life beautifully.

The Replacements… Not the one from Minnesota, but I’d still get front row..

“Oh ’cause you can read me my right to. Tell me Who I belong to. You can bury my strength
Oh but if it’s love, it will find you.Give you more to hold on to. It will carry the weight” -Morgxn

Life lesson: The feeling of replacement is a rotten one. To know something, or even someone, better is always around someone else’s corner while you are Still standing right in front of them will always be the ringing in your ear, and the twist in your stomach. The tell tale heart under the floor boards that drives you insane. Well, if there’s even a floor to begin with. Sometimes it’s just falling.

As I grow up into the adult I want to be, I’m struggling to figure out what being the star in my life is like. Because I know what being the replacement kid is. The brat you don’t give a thought to (first or second). Why? Eric , my bio father. For having kids at 20 and promising a version of the American dream of a big house and life to anyone while your own family is a flaming hobo fire in Argentina , then leaving 13 months later is Not fatherhood. It’s fucking stupid.

Eric was this stranger that barged in my life when the law caught up with him and I answered his “Get out of jail free” call, and I was told to keep him around because that’s how young girls and society work. Eric was a stranger that wouldn’t hestitate to start drunk fights with and physically hit his partners in front of me, a stranger that didn’t care if I was in the car if he got arrested, a stranger who thought “she’ll manage” when leaving a young me in a Toys-R-Us with a girlfriend’s toddler son.

A stranger who replaced me …

And as fast as his girlfriend could get pregnant. Which was pretty fast and often.

Fun fact: I have two half sisters- to which I have no desire to be their older sister. Call me selfish. Have fun with it while you’re at it. I’d love to hear what you come up with while you bang your rusty tuna cans against your stone bridge, troll. Cause my life choices shouldn’t bother your busted ass!

Fun Fact 2: Guess who didn’t find out until they were born? Me, and getting the pregnancy/ “birds and the bees” talk from his 18 year old girlfriend as a teenager myself IS NOT OKAY! It’s also very illogical from a Vulcan point of view.

Fun Fact 3: When my clothes would rip and my shoes fell apart, when I had a play or Haunted House I was in, or when my mom just needed help with anything; Eric would somehow stop answering his phone or lose service… Those dick moves always put my mom in the WORST positions, and now I understand WHY my mom, Bridget, has her name. For she was my Patron Saint of Granada Hills during those times. My strength while I was in that pain and disappointment.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt the pain of being pushed aside , but -once in an indigo blue moon- I get a mental WWE-esque body slam that make me face myself. Either let it ruin your day or push through it. And 99% of the time, I choose to go in my favorite direction… Forward… I’m in charge now, and You Cannot Replace Me!

But I can replace you, Eric… And I have over and over and over again with crazies that run wild, monsters that are queer and bold like myself, and with people that Actually stand up for me and the love I can give and get from them.

So if you ever feel replaced in your family, then come on over to mine. I’ll have the cookies on the counter, the spare PJs on the couch, and the Harry Potter Series playing in the background as we make up words for Scrabble to get that Double Point spot.

For if one person won’t love you, then know the others you find for your mix-match family will…

It’s pretty self explanatory… I’m sorry what?

Life lesson/Self discovery moment # who knows when the last time I made one of these : You know- I’m 25 years old and I’m pretty independent as an Autistic person, but when someone says something is “Pretty self explanatory” I get an instant panic attack. Maybe it’s my flailling horoscope for that day, maybe it’s because most of my childhood I was screamed at for getting the smallest thing incorrect, or maybe it’s Maybelline.

But no matter if I took my meds or not, I’d still like some education/instruction please. Cause I am 400,000% sure you don’t want to see/get a call from a frustrated, confused, and anxiety ridden Lorelei…

Why? Because “Pretty self explanatory” (in my mind) does Not leave room for error (or any white-out products). And I know I’ll make mistakes if I don’t know what I’m exactly doing.

So here’s to swallowing my pride and just doing my best. Failure be damned!

Is this what adulthood is all about? And will I be forgiven if I have to use a pair white underwear as a surrender flag?

Thanks for reading.

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