There's a beautiful sky out there. It feels like a reward for getting through what's been a very trying day.
The difficulties began with Bongo Guy arriving on the rec to play his bongos around 9am.
They escalated in a meeting with the Specialist Student Support woman who appears to know nothing about what autism or ADHD actually involve and who talks to me like I'm five years old.
Then I actually thought my head would explode when a group of children playing on the rec directly opposite the house screamed constantly for what felt like hours.
The little kids have gone now. But they've been replaced by the usual cohort of singing, shrieking, shouting teenagers, who carouse on the rec all night every night when the weather's fine.
(If we're lucky, they might let fireworks off at 1.15am again.)
Now let's look for some positives:
The Covid test came back negative.
Bongo Guy had gone by lunchtime.
Today's session with the extremely aggravating study support woman was the last, and thank fuck for that.
I had fun doing my laundry. I don't know why but I bloody love doing my laundry.
My smart, kind, generous, hardworking and talented friend Charlie sent me a painting he'd made:
Isn't he clever? Now I'd like to do an artwork for him in return. But what? I tried to crochet him a rainbow during the first lockdown but it kept going wonky and then I gave up.
A series of tweets by @mykola tonight finally eased the pain of being wilfully patronised and misunderstood by the student support woman, a fire that burned brightly all day:
So many disabled people don’t know they’re disabled, because they feel like normal human beings and they think “disabled” means something other than that. I was in this camp forever too. It gets programmed into us by society.
Some ways disability manifests: Do you struggle with things that others have no problem with? Are you spending more energy than your family or friends or coworkers to achieve the same outcome? Are you tired all the time from living at your limits? Huh.
Do you dread going to certain kinds of places because they’re too loud? Do you avoid certain things so you don’t have to talk to anyone? Do you live your life in constant terror of your own emotions seizing control and wreaking havoc? These are disabilities. It’s fine.
Do you struggle with words? Are you ashamed because you can’t read as fast as other people? Are numbers just impossible for you to reason about? Do you stutter? Do you feel unsafe in your day to day life? Disability isn’t just wheelchairs and canes.
Last point: so, so many people i know with invisible disabilities don’t feel entitled to use the word. It feels appropriative if you’re not obviously physically disabled somehow. This is actually I think internalized ableism. We only feel comfortable using the word on The Other.
There’s no cutoff, there’s no disability police, and the only thing you’re doing by using the term disabled is wedging the definition open for more people to embrace their struggling selves. It’s a good thing. Embrace it!
Autistic Twitter - I don't know what I'd do without it. It helps an autistic gal feel human, whereas certain student support people definitely don't, especially when they're blaming you for not being able to do the things you can't do, but in such a subtle way they think you won't notice. Ha.
But anyway.
Another blessing - the day is over, at last. Tomorrow will be a brand new day. That's pretty cool.
And it's just started raining, so the teenagers have gone. For the first time today, it's quiet outside.
Amen to that. Deep breath now Weez. Let peace be in my - your - everybody's - soul.
Today's Photo: The Sunset
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