Damn, girl.

 

My first Wordle in a long time today; solved in 5. 

I have been alternately pessimistic or upbeat about the CT scan tomorrow, but yesterday I decided to stop looking at the situation that way. Instead, I am trying to have no expectations because I just don’t know. School Marm says that is very zen or philosophical. In either case, there is nothing I can do about it. I will go and have my scan and then see what the doctor sees. It will be a long day no matter what.

I have a lot of time on my hands these days but I have so little energy. I started watching old baseball games on youtube some months ago, but I now have 4 games in rotation: the 1990 World Series featuring the Cincinnati Reds and the Oakland Athletics. Spoiler alert - the Reds win in 4. It may be weird, no, it is weird but it is soothing to me. I don’t have to listen or even watch them in order, what matters is the fact that they are being piped into my ears whenever I want, but mostly at night because it helps me sleep.

Sweetie’s brother thinks I am on the spectrum, which is something that I have sometimes considered. It would explain my dislike of certain noises such as the clattering of dishes or jazz. I like to count, even though it is not about math. It is the counting that I find comforting, and maybe that is why I like knitting. I often have felt and still feel that I don’t fit in. I used to say that I felt as though everyone else got a book of instructions at birth that explained how one should act, but that I never got mine. There was so much that I didn’t know but I marked it down to bad parenting. Why didn’t my parents tell me these things? I learned to shut up and act as if I knew whatever it was that I didn’t actually know. Emotionally crippled, I thought. I self-medicated with drugs and alcohol because I was depressed or anxious or because I wanted to feel differently. I find other people exhausting.

Then there are the phobias. Ceiling and floor fans on high, windows opened all the way, tailgating, and cabinet doors left open or ajar make me uncomfortably anxious.

But there are things I can do, such as teach classes on knitting or spinning or natural dyeing. Fuck. Is this making sense?

At my age, I have learned to pass as normal and shut up if I don’t.