Keith sighed and looked down into his beer.Sitting next to him in Beer Springs his good buddy asked what the matter was. “She put me on X.” “Who?” “Persephone.” “Well, you named her.” Don’t miss out and check out Routine Apparitions….or X
Keith sighed and looked down into his beer.Sitting next to him in Beer Springs his good buddy asked what the matter was. “She put me on X.” “Who?” “Persephone.” “Well, you named her.” Don’t miss out and check out Routine Apparitions….or X
“Ah,” I thought to myself, sitting comfortably in my assigned seat at Le Carré in Amsterdam. It was a very nice seat at the back of the royal “loge” section in what used to be the circus theatre. The theater is no longer the home of the circus. * A few years ago I heard Mavis Staples at Le Carré and that was an exceptional experience. I signed up for a “We Are Public” seat (a subscription service to supplement an audience when sales are poor or the venue too big and Le Carré is huge) only to be told when I showed up to collect the ticket, that all the “plonk butts in seats” tickets were taken. Quite a few disappointed and audibly…
Tagged: Ariadne auf Naxos, Autism, Persephone Abbott, Strauss, Zerbinetta
She was a professional and trying to find something to engage me. Something to do with autism that maybe I could elaborate on since I had, in the midst of the ongoing family trauma, indicated to my doctor my suspicion that I could possibly be autistic. The psychologist and I were facing each other in the basement of my GP’s office. The basement was the lower level of an 18th century canal house in the middle of Amsterdam and the young woman was a psychologist specialized in addiction. I was a mess, but not an addict. She asked whether I had any special interests. * Despite the tears and exhaustion, I perked right up. I could tell her about my soap collection. Since she…
Tagged: Autism, Bars of soap, Persephone Abbott, Special Interests
“Italian.” I was surprised. No one had ever asked me to cook Italian food for them. For thirteen years, before my divorce, I lived in Gouda. During that period I happily made quite a few friends and remain in contact with people. But for professional and private reasons I became closer to one family with whom I still regularly meet up to share stories and home cooking. * I racked my brain. Italian food. What did I have in my repertoire that would be enjoyable or special? My thoughts wandered off to the time I visited my father’s translator in Bologna. I was living in Paris and needed to escape my apartment because of tensions with an unpredictable roommate. Wearing my roommate’s trench coat…
Tagged: Autism, Bologna, Pergolesi, Persephone Abbott, Serva Padrona
I was cleaning up dried out cat puke under the piano. I hadn’t noticed it before because I rarely go to the piano. Standing in front of the keyboard, I felt a vague inclination to lift the cover and sit down. This is the first time in three years, or since the beginning of the crisis that led to autism diagnosis, that I have actually almost wanted to play the piano. For about twenty-five years of my life, I stood on stage and performed as a classical singer. But when I was young and started working in opera companies, I quickly understood that something was wrong. I would crawl home after rehearsals and performances shaking, never comprehending how my colleagues carried on afterwards, going…
Tagged: Autism, Opera, Performance, Persephone Abbott, Poem
Sitting in a chair in a room, I took in the news. The room had high ceilings and big windows. There wasn’t a screen or a buzz or any electronic distraction. The mood was not modern, as in a modern life vibe. A plant stood in the corner. “You have the option,” I heard her say after announcing the diagnosis, “to join a group to learn about managing as an autistic person.” I said yes. Immediately yes. It’s ingrained in me. I am, afterall, an American. Free health care? It’s a no brainer. * Sitting in chairs in a large room, we faced the experts who were going to teach us about autism. We were seven autistic people and the experts were not autistic…
Tagged: Autism, Group Sessions, Persephone Abbott, Sensory Overload
“When will this stop?” I was exasperated. My therapist at the Hersencentrum in Amsterdam looked at me. “You said you did not want medication. Do you want to talk about medication?” * The exasperation on my part was due to my growing acceptance and understanding of the difficulties that I was experiencing just trying to navigate life, trailing the footsteps of a “normal” person and hopefully checking off tasks as I supposedly met my own and society’s expectations. * Mid-therapy for late diagnosis autism while an active situation involving family trauma was at hand, I decided to take up the challenge to access better suited job openings. Everytime I turned around a recruiter was trying to sell me a job as an office manager…
Tagged: Autism, Keith Kumasen Abbott, LSD, Medication, Persephone Abbott
I never wanted to be Jane Eyre. I wanted to be Jane Eyre. Was I Jane Eyre? Couldn’t be possible, could it? Writing this post, I immediately contradict myself as I try to remember what I felt when I was a young teenager and reading the Brontë sisters. The passion of Wuthering Heights confused me and the poetical prose intrigued me. I found the rigid social expectations, careful structure and convincing options of bravery present in Charlotte and Anne’s novels quite reassuring. * “Looking back, can anyone here tell me with which female character from a book they identified?” The presenter asked the question to a fully packed hall. I was attending a literary evening about the representation of women in fiction at De…
January 2023: two years ago and the period in which I received the official diagnosis of autism. The stresses that led to the referral, assessment, evaluation and diagnosis (a ten month journey in the Dutch health care system that involved nearly a dozen experts on autism) were because of a family based trauma that was making me physically ill. During this time when I was feeling quite poorly and at the doctor’s office, I also mentioned I had a suspicion that I might be autistic and laid that card on the table. (Disclaimer, autism is not a mental illness and I have never been diagnosed as being mentally ill nor have I ever in my life been referred for evaluation in conjunction to mental illness.…
Tagged: Autism, Late diagnosis, mindfulness, Persephone Abbott, self care
“There was a ship going someplace. It was a Norwegian ship. Perhaps it was going back to Norway, carrying the hides of 163 cable cars, as part of the world commerce deal. Ah, trade: one country exchanging goods with another country, just like in grade school. They traded a rainy spring day in Oslo for 163 cable car hides from San Francisco.” (Excerpt from A Confederate General in Big Sur by Richard Brautigan, 1965.) I first read A Confederate General in Big Sur when I was a teenager and I just finished reading it for the second time. I would like to think that this novel has made the same impression upon me as forty something odd years ago, however I must say that…