At some point fairly recently I finally acknowledged that a fair portion of my completely exhausting myself before noon has nothing to do with effort and everything to do with momentum. If I wake up with nothing structured or enforced ahead of me, I will either absolutely, deeply, fully do nothing… or I’ll ricochet from … Continue reading trying not to tilt…
There’s a space between underdoing it and overdoing it that other people call Tuesday. I seem to have misplaced mine. It feels ridiculous to me that I, an intelligent 48-year-old woman, still don’t have the sense to stop and rest when I need to. I haven’t ever really known how to. Not consistently. But it’s … Continue reading finding Tuesday…
I've always had itchy skin. Sensitive skin. Problem skin. Whatever polite term the adults around me used, the reality was simple: I reacted to everything. Dryer sheets. Scented detergent. Some makeup made my eyes puff up. Perfumes that smelled terrible and made my arms and neck itch. The solution was also simple. Just avoid ever … Continue reading Was it Strawberries or Was it Stress?
Yesterday I went to brunch and the ballet with two of my dearest. In the process I was around thousands of people. I watched them. I got to know everyone in my vicinity in my own quiet, introverted way. I named people. Formed attachments to humans who may not have even noticed I exist. I … Continue reading masking monday: showing up
When I was a kid, we had drills. Fire drills. Earthquake drills. Soviet-bombing drills. That was pretty much it. I’m nearly fifty now. The active shooter and lockdown stuff came later, when my daughter was in school. Back then, there were only two moves: Get the fuck out of the building in an orderly fashion. … Continue reading dispatches from hell… sorry, I mean, Portland… 01
No relationship lives in black and white—and apparently, neither do I. In Act I, I told you about Cheri—the first friend who saw me without flinching. That friendship cracked something open in me, and then it broke me when it ended. In Act II, I picked up the pieces and tried to rebuild myself out … Continue reading my history of understanding friendship — act III: of course I’m on a spectrum…
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