Neurodiversity Celebration Week!

Did you know the 13th to the 19th is Neurodiversity Celebration Week?

I didn’t until the week before.

And yes, I had a busy week last week, not only was I taking part in discussions for CSW67 (links below), and working full-time, but I found a couple of Neurodiversity Celebration Week events that I really wanted to go to.

Although the majority of the events have now passed, there are still some ‘An Introduction to Neurodiversity’ events going on over this weekend, and I’d recommend everyone at least watch one!

https://www.neurodiversityweek.com/events

15-20% of the population has a neurological difference. I personally am at least Autistic with ADHD traits. But there’s also Dyslexia, Dyscalculia, Dyspraxia (DCD), even Tourette’s.

The aim of Neurodiversity Week is to show to others what it is like being Neurodiverse; bringing awareness to the world. We are not broken and in need of fixing, we are just different, just like some people have blue eyes instead of brown.

We are unique.
We are valid.
We belong.

Yes, we may need some adjustments in life or a little extra help, and a LOT of understanding and patience, but we also bring a lot of benefits with our different neurological thinking.

It’s also important to not focus on the negatives of neurodiverse people, and instead harness our strengths, especially in the workforce.

Myself, I can be very good with fine details and pattern recognition. I’m usually the one fixing documentation, spell and grammar checking, being methodical. I think outside the box with processes and problems. People with ADHD might be more outspoken and outgoing. There was a person speaking on one of the events who had dyslexia who said they were a lot more creative than others.

It’s also important to not make assumptions. I am autistic, but I am not a genius, you won’t see me fixing mathematical equations on a white board any time soon. But I do have a unique set of skills (no, not those kinds of skills…). I also have a friend who is on the ADHD spectrum who isn’t extremely outgoing.

Approach people, neurodiverse or not, as unique individuals with their own skills, own thoughts, own needs.

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We are all unique.
We are valid.
We belong.

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Links:

Socials:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheGirlWhoWhispered

Instagram: /https://www.instagram.com/thegirlwhowhispered/

Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/alexdamion666

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/alexdamion666/

Making some changes

Hello, my little demons!

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

You may have noticed some changes…

Don’t fear, I’m still me! I am just ‘re-branding’ myself.

The last year or so, I’ve not been keeping up with writing or posting on my website too much. This is mostly because I’ve been focusing on my career.

But, I am finally at a decent stage in my career. There’s still lots to learn, but there will ALWAYS be lots to learn in IT!

While I’ve been focusing on my career, I have been considering the next step in my writing journey. And, I have come to the conclusion that I should just start that d*mn publishing business.

So, here are some changes I have currently made (and some in progress):
* Rebranded my Instagram profile, specifically for ‘Mind’: www.instagram.com/thegirlwhowhispered
* Created two new Instagram profiles, one for ‘Body’ (www.instagram.com/alexdamion666) and ‘Soul’ (www.instagram.com/demon_genie_amg)
* Rebranded my website (www.thegirlwhowhispered.com)
* Rebranded my Facebook Page (www.facebook.com/thegirlwhowhispered)
* Rebranded my Twitter page (www.twitter.com/alexdamion666)
* Rebrand my books (In Progress)
* Finish writing my True Story about Selective Mutism (In Progress)

Of course, it’s not exactly how I want it yet. There’s still LOTS left to do.

Including opening up the business. But I have a bit of research to do into that first!

Either way, watch this space!

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Let’s get back on track!

Hi all!

Dusting off the cobwebs on my blog (and website, and Twitter, and… everything, really!)

So, as I explained, I am currently completing a Master’s Degree and… wow, is it difficult! It’s been taking up so much of my time that I haven’t had chance to do anything in terms of writing, editing, marketing, etc. It’s crazy!

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But today I had my viva, and although I haven’t yet finished, hopefully I have freed up some time to get back to blogging, writing, editing, and updating everything!

It’s good to see that I’m still getting royalties, even though I have done next to no marketing what so ever. And come onto my WordPress in what feels like a few months to see I’m getting traffic through – even if it’s a little, it feels like it’s actually improved, even though I haven’t been blogging frequently.

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As I’m nearly the end of my Masters I’ve been really thinking about getting my own business up and running, selling my own work (see below for links to my two published books), doing a bit more freelance work.

I have also wanted to do a vlog or something similar… maybe branch out a little from writing, getting back into photoraphy, both landscape and architecture as well as modelling photography (I have plans of making a room into a photography room!)

And… I have plans for a new instagram account.. but this one will be a bit of fun.

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Of course, get back into writing and editing my two last books; Ender’s Love and Rose Garden Sanatorium!

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Butterfly House – Chapter 1

Click here to read the Prologue

Chapter 1

“Hey, big guy, you keep the house safe for me while I’m gone, yeah?” said a brown haired man with glasses and a crease on his forehead. He walked through his kitchen while his fourteen month old baby boy was sat in a highchair and gave him a big grin when his father kissed him on the head, trying to avoid getting the baby food that was smothered around his little pink cheeks onto his suit.

“Will you call me when you land, Dave?” said a woman at the sink, washing out a cup with a bright purple dish-cloth.

Dave turned around from his son and looked round to his wife. He was a handsome man, although slightly rounded on the stomach after letting himself go a little over the years. But he knew he was still attractive to the ladies. “Signal might be a big patchy, but I’ll try my best,” he said, as he walked over to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her on the neck. The woman smiled.

“You do that and I might actually miss you,” the woman said.

The guy chuckled slightly as he kissed his wife on the neck again, before running his hand from her stomach and down her abdomen.

“Do you really have to leave now?” she whispered back, closing her eyes.

Dave broke away from her, placed both hands either side of her waist and span her round. She managed to let out a small gasp before he pressed his lips against her lips, pressing his body against her body, so she was pinned against the large deep sink behind her.

When she let out a small groan of pleasure, Dave automatically pressed his body harder into her, his own body reacting to her, and kissed her passionately. He moved his hands up the hem of her shirt, his fingers starting to wander up her sides and finding the bottom of her bra.

Dave was about to unclasp his wife’s bra, finding himself caught in the moment, when there was a small clatter behind him and the shrill wail of his son. He groaned when his wife pushed him away to check what was wrong.

“Leave him, Jan!” Dave groaned, feeling frustrated for being interrupted. “He’s fine.”

“No, Dave, he might be hurt!” she snapped, and peered around her husband.

“Hurt?” he snapped accidentally, pulling away from his wife and looking round at the red face of his baby boy, noticing a small plastic spoon in his hand, but the green bowl he was originally eating from was now on the floor, the contents of the disgusting baby food now all over their expensive kitchen floor.

“It’s okay, baby!” said his wife, slinking from between her husband’s body and the sink, drying her hands on a tea-towel she grabbed, and rushing over to her son to comfort him.

“See, he’s just dropped his food, he’s fine!” Dave said, resting his hands on the sink and trying to control himself; mostly his frustration, he knew he could snap if he didn’t control it.

“I know,” his wife muttered absentmindedly before she started annoyingly cooing to her son.

Dave rolled his eyes, took a deep breath and decided to try again. He turned around and walked over to his wife as she wiped her son’s face with the tea-towel she had in her hands and gave him a kiss on his forehead, much like what Dave had done moments before.

Dave stuck his tongue out at his son, crossing his eyes as he did, and getting an instant reaction from his son; his wails suddenly turning into a fit of giggles. Exactly what he wanted, so his wife didn’t have to fuss over him and could get back to concentrating on him instead.

“See, he’s fine!” Dave said, wrapping an arm around his wife much life last time by the sink.

Jan sighed and stood there while her husband kissed her neck and rubbed his hands down her body.

“Don’t you have a flight to catch?” she said a little too harshly, but Dave chose to ignore it.

“I do, but I can be a few minutes late,” Dave whispered, trying desperately to get his wife in the mood again.

“Dave, not in front of Charlie.” She sighed.

Dave closed his eyes, stopped kissing his wife’s neck but continued to hold onto her waist. He took in a large breath and then let it go, hoping his frustration would go with it. It didn’t. “He’s a year old, Jan, he doesn’t know what’s going on.” He kissed her again, almost determinedly.

“Maybe, but I don’t feel comfortable,” Jan explained.

Dave groaned into her hair. “Then put him in his cot or playpen for a minute?” He kissed her on the neck again and pressed his body into her back.

“Dave, please stop!” Jan snapped, pushing her husband’s hand away from her stomach again before his hand wandered downwards again.

“Jesus Christ!” Dave finally snapped, raising his voice, and his son suddenly started to wail again.

“Well done!” Jan snapped angrily, and pulled her son out of the highchair.

Dave groaned angrily and ran his finger through his hair. “I’m going away for a while, Jan, I just wanted some alone time with you before I leave.”

“We had alone time last night, after we put the kids to bed,” Jan said, trying to rub her wailing son’s back to sooth him. “We have children, Dave, we have responsibilities now.”

“You were too tired to have sex last night!”

Jan frowned at him. “Is that all you think about?”

Dave shook his head at her. “Don’t start!”

“No, I am starting, Dave!” she said, frowning angrily at him. “I’m too tired because I have to run around after our children all day every day. I know you work, and you work hard, and I am forever appreciative of that. I don’t complain when you come home late, I don’t complain when you go on business trips away for days or weeks at a time, because you support this house financially, but I do require a little bit of respect! Do you know how hard it is to look after two children?”

“One, you put the other in day care,” Dave muttered, walking away from the woman and into the living-room in their open-plan living-space.

“That’s not fair!” Jan said, looking teary eyed. “It’s good for her.”

“Good for her, or good for you?” Dave snapped as he put on his blazer.

“Fuck you,” she whispered.

Dave looked up at his wife in shock, she hardly ever swore, and she never did around the children. “What?” he said, not sure if he had actually heard her correctly.

“You heard me!” she said as a tear escaped down her cheek. He knew he should be feeling bad, but his frustration and anger was too much and it clouded his judgement. “I’m trying my best here, and I’m sorry if it isn’t good enough!”

“I didn’t say…”

“No, you did, but you might as well have!”

“Jan, I am just frustrated, that’s all!” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, but was unsure how well it was working. “It’s been a while since we were intimate, you’re either too tired or something happens to one of the children.”

“You have hands!” she snapped, just as Charlie’s high-pitch wail pierced through their ears again, clearly picking up on the tension in the room that was expanding.

Dave laughed and shook his head at his wife. Without really thinking about the consequences he accidentally snapped; “Allison always appreciated my needs.”

Just before he slammed the front door shut, he heard another wail, but it wasn’t his son this time. It was his wife.

~~~

Click here to read the next chapter!


Don’t forget to check out my other works!

Rose Garden Sanatorium – Prologue

Ender’s Love – Chapter 1

My Normal – A Short Story by Penny Hooper

New Story Idea – “I fell in Love with a Psychopath”

New Story idea! – Butterfly House

Prologue

THE SEARCH CONTINUES AFTER BMW FOUND!

  • Authorities located the car of missing man, David MacLeod, found parked in Notting Hill five miles from home.
  • He was last seen leaving home at 7:00am Monday 19th of June to catch a flight.

By DEENA RICHARDS
PUBLISHED: 09:22, 15 July 2019 | UPDATED: 11:12, 15 July 2019

David MacLeod, husband to Jan MacLeod, father to Charlie and Margaret MacLeod, ages 1 and 4, is still missing after three weeks. Supposedly having left for a business flight, but never making it to the airport.

Authorities have responded to a report of an abandoned car, which has been confirmed belongs to that of David MacLeod. It is not known why David’s brand new BMW was parked in Notting Hill when he was due to catch a flight at 08:00 that Monday at Gatwick Airport.

Jan MacLeod is appealing for witnesses who may have seen or heard from David or knows any information to his whereabouts, to come forward as she “extremely worried” about her husband. She says “this behaviour is very unlike David, he normally finds any way to contact me and wouldn’t abandon his children!”

His ex-wife Allison refused to comment but is believed to be working closely with authorities to find David.

Click here to read the next chapter!

woman s face
Photo by Isabella Mariana on Pexels.com

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Don’t forget to check out my other works!

Rose Garden Sanatorium – Prologue

New Story Idea – “I fell in Love with a Psychopath”

Ender’s Love – Chapter 1

No one likes you! – A short story.

My Normal – A Short Story by Penny Hooper