Please read the Introduction first!

Whew! It’s been 5 months since I’ve had the guts… more like the emotional strength, to post anything here. Shit has been happening so fast that I haven’t had much time between events to process any of it. I’m not even sure where to start, except to say that being autistic through it all has made me check/prepair my helium tank & apperatus more than once.

I have no intention of using it, its just important to know that I have easy access to it. Just the knowledge that’s its there allows me to feel that I still have some self determination… I need to know that no matter what happens in my life that I have some autonomy over it. Torture scares me more than anything else in the world. Torture starts the moment self determination is taken away.

The day after Miss Daisy died, Jamie was just kind of aimless; she had really fallen in love with Miss Daisy. I was giving her a lot of space. While Jay was wandering around the front yard picking up sticks just to put in the fire pit by the sea wall, she had an unpleasant experience with our new next door neighbor… the old fool who paid $610k in cash for a house that was worth about $580k, and then bragged about what a deal he got because of his cash and shrewd bargaining skills. He was admiring his job of evening-up the pillings on his adjacent sea wall, with a chainsaw. He mentioned to Jamie how much better his looked than our uneven lengths of vertical piling. We usually don’t pay much attention to him; we already had him pegged as a blowhard. When Jay doesn’t make much of a comment, ol’ Eeyore asks if it would be ok if he cut our piling down to make a nice even 14 inches. It was a bit of a rude request, and it took Jamie by surprise. You gotta understand that J is a force of strength, competence, and confidence; Jay just doesn’t fold. Being unprepared for such a bizarre request, and feeling unusually “weepy” because of putting Miss Daisy the day before, Jamie said to wait a week to let her make up her mind. I wasn’t there, but what appearently ensued was a verbal shitstorm. He laid into her about her decision making capabilities, that we like things messy, we like rats, and on and on. I guess a few wandering neighbors dispersed after the tired started. Then his wife comes out to support ol’ Eeyore with property maps, site plans, whatever. Their voices started to raise as they berate her, telling J that it was THEIR property anyway, and they didn’t have to be so nice about it. When he told her “Why you’re nothin’ but a damn democrat!!”, she started lose it. She hadn’t said a word through all of it. When she came into the cottage, she was in tears. I had no clue that any of this bullying was taking place.

I’m not sure that you could understand how full of rage I was. All autistics stops were out. This, this… COWARD bullied the love of my life!??!! This man-child? This fucking shithead bullied my wife? My WIFE???? I left my cane and headed for the door. This would not stand. A quick dragon-fisted throat strike immediately followed by a head-butt to his nose would bring the bully down into easy kicking range (yeah, I know… I studied/trained for all the wrong reasons) just to see if makes to the nearest trauma center. I can eat a lotta shit from anybody, but don’t EVER fuck with a member of my family. She brought me up short and pleaded with me to stay inside. She reminded me that I need to “stay in the car”* She also reminded that I’m a bit older than I was in those days. My autistic brain keeps telling me that the last quarter-century hasn’t changed the way my mind works. If I’m still as fucked in the head as I was back then, it follows that I haven’t changed physically either. Right?

Two days passed and there was no apology. I was outside ready to take the lift up to the cottage, when I spot ol’ Eeyore with the wicked witch about a hundred feet away. The were planting a tree or something. He started waving like a child yelling “Hi Fred!”. This man-child was an idiot. I was still super-pissed and had no time for this nonsense. I gave him the finger and turned away. That’s when I heard Donald Duck noises coming from him. I turned to see him flapping his hands and arms around like an idiot (no, he’s not autistic). I yelled “Perry, if you’ve got something to say to me, come here and say it to my face, like a man”. His response? “You come here!” What is this, Junior High School?? This guy is definitely not packed too tight.

As the days passed I sent several texts asking that we just let the matter go, and resume our neighborly relations. No response. One evening, while standing on our deck, ol’ Eeyore came out on his deck… about 25-30 feet away. He started staring at me. I casually said something like “Hey Perry.” He gave my the finger. I chuckled and thought he was making light of it, so kindly returned the gesture with a chuckle. He gives me two fingers? The ensuing verbal exchange went like this: “Perry, grow up” “YOU grow up!” “Oh Perry, you gotta get grip.” “YOU get a grip!” This man-child was a school yard bully who liked to berate women! I left the deck. He and his wife decided that there had been a declaration of war. We ignored him. I had installed a few security cameras about a year ago. I takes a special kind of stupid to trespass on somebody’s property while looking up at the security cameras. This clown was weird.

It was common practice several of our neighbors to fire their guns off their respective deck, in order to scare the seagulls off their docks. Everyone knows I have PTSD with a startle reflex that can frighten animals & small children. So everyone is courteous enough to text me with a notice before they fire. The lovely couple decided to randomly fire a double-barrel shotgun, when there weren’t even any birds, without notice. The purpose? To trigger PTSD flashbacks. It worked quite well. Ruined my whole day every time. They hired a surveyor to mark their property line to try and show that they owned six inches of our sea wall.

There were lawyers involved, with property lines and raaparian rights, etc. I ended up with our Sheriff’s Deputy telling me that unfortunately Alabama law was more about property than people. He also let me know that he knew where I lived, and if either of the village idiots violate the legal No Trespass notice I filed to call 911. He will know why and get out there immediately. Show him the video of the trespass, and he will take care of it permanently. When their attorney was notified of this, the trespassing stopped. The guns, fingers, and general harassment did not stop. One of their double shotgun blast startled our precious Hound Harlie off her chaise. She landed on her back and damaged her back beyond reasonable repair. We had to put her down. This was just before we got the doomed Miss Daisy.

We finally had enough. This people were immature, volatile, and well armed. We no longer felt safe in the home we were going to finish our old age in… looking out over Bon Secour bay. We had to move.

While all of this crap was going on, after Miss Daisy died, Jamie insisted on getting another shelter rescue dog. We went to shelter several times in one week (me virtually eating-up my daily supplies of oxecodone each time due to the long car rides beating the shit out of my back) to look at different dogs… they had over 140 dogs at the time. We found one that I was smitten with and thought would be good for me. Jay said no because the dog didn’t “click” with her. After I figured “screw this” I went to wait in the care. I was sitting in the passenger seat (because of my neuropathy I’m not allowed to drive if she’s in the car), when I get a knock at the window only to see the underside of a medium-sized male dog being held up by the front armpits… I couldn’t even tell what kinds of dog it was. “Well, whaddya think??!???! Isn’t he perfect??” Right. I literally said “Whatever you want. Its gonna be YOUR dog, not OURS.” Jesus, its a good thing I’ve loved this girl since I was six. We get this frightened & antsy shrunken German Shepard home when she thought it was safe to tell me that “Billy” has a bad case of heart worm. “HEART WORM??!!!??” It was gonna be ok ‘cuz the shelter was going to pay for all the requisit meds, injections, overnight stays, etc for the next several months until he’s “safe”. Oh yeah, Billy can’t have ANY exercise, except to be held outside to crap & pee, and must be kept quiet and unexcited for the next six weeks. Oh joy.

Billy is still with us. I have adjusted to having Jamie’s new dog around. He’s a needy little guy, but handsome as hell. Billy is a stupid name for him.

Jamie found us a beautiful rental house in a really nice area of Fairhope. It’s been a bit over a month, and we are still moving in. It has been a daily pain in the ass, and as of today we still aren’t finished emptying our little cottage. Leaving there still hurts, but I couldn’t ask Jamie to stay. Jay and a crew were down there today. The little asshole thought I was there, so he did his shotgun trick for them. J & company thought that I should leave the satellite & security until we sell the place. The general consensus from a brief exchange of words is that he is really a frustrated 10yr boy with a little weenie and a big gun. He’s dangerous.

All of this crap is impossible to tell in any kind of sequence or time line… its all been going on concurrently. And I have a collapsing mind to show for it. I’m afraid I may be headed for another 2010-type crash. I can’t afford it right now. Jamie is have reverse-joint shoulder surgery the day after tomorrow, and I’m expected to take care of her for a few weeks. I’m happy to be in a position to help her. It’s not often that I get the chance. But I would instantly turn into a burden instead of a help if I have some kind extended crash again. And who knows who & what I will be after? She’s been “carrying me” ever since that mighty crash started. Hell… I had a CT Scan and an MRI shortly after. The crash was so profound, and nobody had guessed that I was autistic… a whole slew of doctors that I still don’t know they are, were looking for organic causes. The retrograde & anterograde amnesia was as frightening to them as it was to me. What if that’s what’s coming? How do I know? How do I stop it from starting? I feel so fucking lost. I’m too damn old for this shit. I hit threads, bluesky, facebook, etc for ASD groups/info. All I end up finding are much younger people/kids who think being on the spectrum is sunshine & rainbows. It’s not all roses for me. For one thing, I wish I never found out. I was unhappy enough with the way I was. I was a poser, but a good one. I knew I wasn’t any where near as good as colleagues, nor was I any kind of hero (yeah, I saved two lives… not a great feat compared to anyone else in the same position) just stumbling through life getting very lucky. I try to tell J that her sister was right… ASD is just an excuse; I’m not autistic, I really am just a world-class asshole and a complete cringe jerk. Jamie reminds me that everything she’s read about ASD screams that I’m autisticn. Sometimes I figure that it doesn’t really matter… ASD or not. I’ve had all these fucked-up socials ever since I was a little kid, and had convinced myself that there was a

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