There is this article I read. Some of which was totally me and some not. So gonna break that down.

I found it interesting for the part that was me – was I’m extremely direct, I live my truth, I say what I think. What wasn’t me was that she experiences one kind of feeling not the other whereas both are me.

Very Grand Emotions: How Autistics and Neurotypicals Experience Emotions Differently

Characterizations of Autistic people often reflect a profile of a stoic, unfeeling, emotionless automaton. Many times, the only emotion ascribed to autistics, especially by the lay writers who populate the dustbin of Amazon Kindle’s self-published section, is explosive anger.

This is an accusation which has often been leveled against me, usually much to my confusion. One notable example was a social media post I was tagged into about infant circumcision.

The journal article in the post was absolute quack science. It was emotionally manipulative, purposefully misleading, and rife with untruths and ethical violations.

So, instead of responding to the topic, I talked about the lack of veracity and the void of research ethics from the authors of the journal article. If a debate were happening, my friends deserved to have accurate, factual information to make such an important decision.

Immediately, everyone in the discussion assumed I had coldly taken a position in favor of routine infant circumcision. It was intense. I was accused of intellectualizing to preserve a personal preference (I hadn’t stated or even considered a personal preference), of not having a conscience, of “supporting genital mutilation,” and other atrocious attributes and thoughts.

The more I attempted to reason, the worse the situation became and the more convinced people were about my terrible personality and empty heart. Explaining was regarded as manipulation, being combative, and again… having no feelings. I lost friends over that conversation. I didn’t realize I was speaking a different language. I didn’t realize that my emotional experience was different from theirs. None of us did.

I could see myself replying to an infactual article with facts. However I wouldn’t continue to argue the point if others misunderstand the point or disagree. And I think I generally word things that people can hear them. So long as it’s not about myself 🙂

This was one of many similar instances in my life. I have historically walked away from such situations feeling devastated, angry, confused, and frankly, like everyone else was delusional. They felt the same way about me.

My “massive ego” is almost always a part of the charges in these discussions, parallel to the narrative that I am emotionless. What most bothered me was that no one was understanding how deeply I did feel.

It’s only been recently that I’ve reached an understanding about what is really happening in these situations. I haven’t had the right language to define and label my emotions, because my emotions are different and are experienced differently from other people’s.

An Epiphany Courtesy of RBG

Another reason I’ve been accused of being emotionless is my lack of tears during films.

Other times, I’ve been accused of emotional instability due to my intense reactions during documentaries, news segments, and even advertisements others have been able to easily move beyond.

I can’t handle television, and must digest my news with a curated and metered approach. If I’m in a restaurant, at someone’s home, or even in the waiting room of a doctor’s office and the news is playing on the television, I can’t understand how others can see a bloodied white sheet covering a casualty of war after a bombing, or an advertisement for a non-profit featuring a scarred and mangled animal that has been the victim of abuse, and can simply continue eating or carry on with their casual conversation unfazed. I don’t understand how they can laugh at a joke seconds later.

I nodded at this, because of course! Though I’ve not grown up with the news etc. I still avoid the news. I don’t just move beyond Instagram posts that hurt, I unfollow people who share a lot of news on their stories since it hurts. And no, I don’t feel crazy for it. Don’t talk about where some food comes in front of me for I won’t be able to eat. My siblings are the same to some things or others, even if not to the same extent. The way I’m different from one sister is that I can enjoy science since I completely disconnect and don’t visualise it. When I was 16 I did a first aid course. I remember a random friends surprise that I got through it. Not everyone did.

But, so many times, my focus on something is coming from a different emotional angle, and it doesn’t read to neurotypical people that my response is deeply felt and from a place of passionate emotional depth.

Then, there was clarity. While watching the documentary about Ruth Bader Ginsburg, RBG, I had an epiphany. She said, “Justice and mercy. [ . . . ] They’re very grand emotions.”

And it hit me, that to me, those are two of my deepest-felt emotions. Justice, equality, fairness, mercy, longsuffering, Work, Passion, knowledge, and above all else, Truth. Those are my primary emotions.

I didn’t have the language before to be able to explain how profoundly these emotions affected me, conceiving them more as ideas than feelings. At least, that’s what I was told they were.

This I found interesting. They’re all really high values of mine. I don’t think I’d class them as emotions though.

In the pursuit of those emotions, other feelings are secondary, superficial, misleading, and trite. Sadness, grief, jealousy, fear, joy, shame, sympathy… those are emotions which serve only me; but Truth and Work, Passion and Justice, longsuffering and Equality… those are emotions which serve the Greater Good. Those emotions are the mobilization of Love.

Nope, nope, not at all. They’re equally valuable. How can either be secondary to the other?

Random thought, I was trying to explain to a brother in law that I live my truth. He was saying that it’s better to know and not do and I was saying that my knowledge has to translate into action – of course there can be blockages to that. And that if you know something you’ve 3 options, live it, work towards living it, feel guilty. Actually 4. Change your knowledge- blind yourself. Although he didn’t understand, my family dud. They might not all be as strong on living their truth as I am, but in essence they are.

Practical Application & Conflict

As long as the characterization of what autism means is pathologized and wildly misunderstood, the majority of autistics will not find their way to a diagnosis. Characterizing us as being without empathy is not only categorically untrue, but it also guarantees that we aren’t going to find our way to diagnosis and self-knowledge. It’s dehumanizing and unethical. There’s no way we can see ourselves as not having empathy because we feel a profusion of it.

I have a close friend, a neurodivergent woman I trust more than family, and we have only recently met. We don’t observe neurotypical boundaries. She, too, is a writer and a prominent figure in the Neurodiversity Movement. She will show me something she has been working on, and my immediate response will be to correct the language which might not be as accurate or as thoughtful as it could be. I do this before telling her how proud I am for the Work she’s doing, before I tell her it’s well-written, and before I affirm for her that she is a good person doing a good thing. She does the same for me.

Haha, yup I’d do this my friends. I’ll ask them if they want me to correct it first. Naturally I will though.

The reason I skip the validation or praise is because if someone complimented me on Work I was doing, then I would feel they were implying that I was Laboring in the interest of self-promotion or validation-seeking.

Nope. Really not. I’d validate what they’ve done. It’s a normal human need to want to know if it’s doing what you want it to. I don’t believe there’s anyone who doesn’t want validation (not referencing inability to receive it which comes from somewhere else).

These aren’t spoken values, but something we feel innately. This is how I Labor with other autistics. We correct each other. We offer what expertise and insight we can to sharpen the other’s Work, to add volume and clarity to the other’s Love song.

Not the wording I’d use but yes.

My new friend and I have already joked that we won’t be sending each other birthday cards or holiday gifts.

Haha. I’ve zero need to even comment on this. If anyone wonders why then they don’t know me.

We don’t ever talk about clothes, or the weather, or even ask each other, “How was your day?” To us, these details are things we will offer up if it’s relevant.

Both yes and no. For if they’re in the same of small talk I won’t bother. Yet I can definitely care about such things.

If the other doesn’t address something adequately enough, we tell them directly, “I still want to talk about that thing you didn’t respond to with enough focus.”

I really like this. I don’t but I would. Everyone should.

We do sometimes talk about family, health, and our personal emotions, those secondary feelings most people experience as primary emotions.
These emotional differences do cause profound conflict with our neurotypical peers. When we follow the, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” maxim, it fails us with our non-autistic loved ones. They feel that we are invalidating, selfish, thoughtless, and socially tone deaf. We feel that way about them, too; however, being the vast minority, we are the ones who are pathologized.

Are We in the Wrong?

Nope! You’re 100% right. Not actually going to comment on the rest.

Reason would be another “very grand emotion” for me, so I would like to invite readers to “feel” through my lens as I Reason through this question. Is it wrong for autistics to feel the way we do and interact the way we do? Do we need social skills training to learn to listen to people’s personal emotions and respond to those instead of the “very grand emotions” which take precedence for us?

If so, do others not need social skills training to respond to us in ways that feel unnatural for them? Are we tone deaf for not responding with, “That must be so scary/difficult/painful for you,” as opposed to, “How can I help?,” or “Here is how to fix this problem”?

Because we do have our own intuited, innate empathy. We do have a social “code” that is written in our neurology, and we do respond in a way that gels with and validates other autistics. We do form deep, impenetrable connections with each other, and these connections are not chores to maintain.

We tend to not interact outside of those things which involve the “very grand emotions,” but we pick back up immediately when we need each other, be it a month later or in three years. Sometimes, our interactions are based on personal emotions, but that’s in the spirit of another grand emotion: Solidarity.

Solidarity is why when you tell an autistic something, we share with you our closest relative experience. We aren’t one-upping or implying we know how you feel… because we truly can’t. It would go against what we can know is empirical Truth to claim to understand your emotions through your perspective and in light of your experiences and history. It would be disrespectful to you, a platitude or a lie.

We are saying, “This is how I share your path.” There is a question implied, too. “Have I come close to your experience?” To neurotypicals, this reads as egotistical in the same way that neurotypicals, estimating our feelings in response reads as egotistical to us.

We want to hear if something was Fair or Just, if our secondary emotions are in-line with the “very grand emotions.” Or, at least we want you to troubleshoot with us and help us explore the angles beyond our limited perspectives.

To know about these differences, though, is empowering. It’s why Knowledge is valuable as a “very grand emotion.”

A neurotypical person is not wired to be rewarded by our brand of interaction and emotional Solidarity. Our method of relatedness doesn’t translate our heart accurately with neurotypicals. Our direct, blunt, and sometimes-brutal honesty is offensive to neurotypicals; and in turn, their roundabout, indirect, suggestive language reads as confusing, manipulative, and patronizing to us.

Our neurotypical therapists don’t even have the language to understand us because they’ve not learned how we experience emotions differently. That’s okay, because we don’t have the language yet, either. This failure to be understood is infinitely isolating, especially when it is perceived that we are unfeeling.

On RBG

Ruth Bader Ginsburg has always been a shero to me. In watching the documentary with my husband, the only film I’ve watched in the last two years, he and I felt a lot of those “very grand emotions” in Solidarity. The relationship between Ruth and her husband Marty was very similar to our own marriage.

Marty had to remind Ruth to sleep, eat, and do whatever else that wasn’t Work. Professionally, his career took the back seat to her Work, because her Work contributed more to the Greater Good.

He did the brunt of the domestic load and the cooking at home, and he moved so that she could advance her career, not for any monetary reason, but for Justice and Mercy. He was also the primary source of humor and nurture in the house. He was laid back where she was rigid. This is all familiar to me and my husband, and we find this tale to be profoundly romantic.

There were so many times during that film that I brimmed with “very grand emotions” and my eyes welled with tears. My husband, who is also autistic, was on the same page with me the whole time, squeezing my hand in Solidarity at just those right moments to say, “That’s you right there,” or “That’s how I feel about you.”

To me, this was deeply romantic and validating. He was loving me with our primary emotions by loving my Work and being proud of what most partners would see as neglectful.

I felt extreme gratitude to him for that validation. We use our strengths to supplement each other. As a team, we can accomplish more for the Greater Good by dividing the Labor. Our accomplishments belong to neither of us, because we don’t believe in ownership. We don’t really congratulate each other, because that would be an invalidation of the Purpose.

We didn’t remember our anniversary this year. Or last year. We forgot together, even though it’s on a holiday. We have grander emotional connections, and that is okay. It works for us, but neither of us would be great partners for a neurotypical spouse.

I realized, too, that the emotion which has always moved me most profoundly, that brings me to tears every time, is Dissent. To see RBG, her tiny form and her enormous heart, utter the words, “I Dissent,” moved me to sobbing. It was Righteous Indignation and Solidarity. Pride. Movement. All “very grand emotions.”

To this day, I can’t look at the image of the man standing before the tanks at Tiananmen Square without crying and experiencing full-body chills. I’m crying now, as I type this. The Courage and Selflessness it took to be one small person against a literal army, against what had to feel like the weight of the universe, is the most inspiring gesture fathomable.

I cry with inspiration and reverence, too, every time I think of the Dandi Salt March led by Gandhi or the Bloody Sunday Selma-to-Montgomery March held in the US during the Civil Rights Movement. Dissent is the mightiest, boldest, bravest of “very grand emotions.”

There were so many instances during the film that comments were made about Ruth as a synesthetic consumer of classical music and opera, as a hater of small talk, and as singularly-focused workaholic that one would wonder what the producers were trying to communicate.

I am by no means suggesting or implying anything about RBG’s neurotype. I definitely am not comparing my or my husband’s accomplishments to her’s and Marty’s. Most autistic people’s Movements are smaller in scale, and some never are realized because of antagonism, self-defeat, lack of motivation, lack of understanding, and lack of privilege.

But, I am sure that, if RBG didn’t have the celebrity she has, a therapist would decry that her Work habits are unhealthy and that she needs to find a balance between her job, family, and self-care. Her path to get where she is would be pathologized. Her role as a wife and mother might be considered as lacking in nurture or being absent, though I doubt her husband would ever have felt that way about her.

I mention her not to conjecture about her neurology, and especially not to compare myself to her. I only wish to credit her as being the source of inspiration for giving me the language to understand, study, communicate, compare, and contrast my emotions with those of the neural majority.

It’s 5.07 at the moment and I didn’t plan on writing. However, I’ve been up, thinking, and knowing I’ll try find the time tomorrow to put this down, and it’s just adding more and more bits onto it in my head. So I wonder if actually I’m more likely to sleep if I do write now.

Alexithymia. Some years ago someone I saw used that term to describe me. I knew it was completely inaccurate. Recently, as in the past couple years, I wondered if maybe it had some truth to it. A couple days ago I read some articles describing it and it did and in many ways completely did not describe me. Because alexithymia describes an inability to feel – both for oneself and for others. I don’t feel for myself. I feel for others. And the why, and the past years, has been going around my head.

If I go back to when I was a kid, there are some memories I have that tell me that as a child I experienced emotions. I should probably first explain why I don’t have the language of emotions. My mother doesn’t have a language to express what she feels. My mother doesn’t find it safe to feel. My memories, thinking back, to what My mother felt when I was a child- is primarily overwhelm.

My mother created various ditties over the years. ‘Jam (I) can’t cope, jam can’t cope, yes jam can yes jam can’. Something about daddy I can’t cope.

Whenever we expressed emotions as a child, it wasn’t. To explain that, today my mother is in a healthier emotional place. If I say to her, I’m hungry. Her automatic answer will be – you’re not hungry. Her denial came from her inability to handle our emotions, also because she felt it as a reflection of herself. She lived with denial. That’s how she could let my sister say for about a year that she wants to die and it’s her families fault etc, and do nothing about it. Because it didn’t actually exist to her.

I’ve a memory of when I was maybe 16 telling her that it’s not okay to respond that it isn’t, that if I’m saying something is, it is.

I’ve lived with some form of disassociation since I’m not sure when. Until 2/3 years ago I lived with depersonalisation/derealisation. (I’m not saying I don’t at all anymore, however it’s definitely not in the same way). I used to question whether I was real. Whether the world was real. I didn’t actually know if it was real or not. Did it exist or not? It wasn’t until I watched some random video someone had shared by Kati Morton that I had the answer. She was explaining depersonalisation/derealisation and it was like, oh. There’s a word for this. When I’d asked my friends if it was real, they wanted to know who cared, or said of course it was. I wonder from when. I don’t want to read through my journal entries as a kid. I have a feeling that I expressed this definitely at age 15 (I once read what I wrote then).

When I was 16 I went to seminary – Jewish college. It’s not a time I want to remember. I know the last year in seminary was traumatic for me. When I visited my younger sister there I learned that. Maybe 4 years ago? It was the first time I burned myself with a curler. Unintentionally, unplanned. Meaning I didn’t realise I was burning myself until I already was – and it’s not something I would have done planned. I was in someone else’s house in an open room. (I do have more choice today). I can’t think back to seminary. I hate hearing people mention the name of the place. I’m not sure why it was traumatic to me. So, I lived alone. I did have friends even if not my friends. I was alone. Not sure why it’s such a big deal.

Seminary, although I hated it, also gave me distance from home.

My entire family, excepting my youngest sister who grew up with 5 other mothers, shut off feeling emotionally. They all expressed their feelings logically, and never experienced their feelings. I know it’s something they’ve all spent years working through.

We grew up with a lot of denial. We were taught not to trust ourselves. I have a special needs sister who my parents believed was normal. My mother still doesn’t fully accept that she’s not.

After I came home from seminary, I didn’t just create distance in my mind (living with the disconnection). I acted to create distance. Looking back that’s what I’d say. When I was 18 or 19 I began to read. Reading has always been an escape for me however this became much more than that. It became the only thing that existed. When I was teaching I was thinking about reading. I was late to school because I was reading. I was up all night reading. It was the only thing that existed. When I stopped trying to read material that drew me in I’d always go back to it. And when I stopped, I started cutting. When I tried to stop, that’s the first time I was consciously aware I was suicidal – about 5 years ago. I say consciously aware because looking back to seminary, I remember telling a friend something like we should jump out the window as a joke, and then freaking out that she might realise it wasn’t a joke. I used to have a running joke with a friend about the green bridge that has the number for samaritans for it since it was so often used for suicide. When, a year or 2 later I came across what I wrote when I was 15 – 16 and saw the guilt I felt running through all my words it was eye opening to me. I hadn’t known I’d felt guilty for living as a kid. Guilty for living since I was 9.

So, emotions.

I learnt as a child that it wasn’t okay to express what I feel. That if I said I felt anything – it didn’t exist. I learnt not to feel. I lived in a world of books since probably age 9. Lived with some form of dissasociation since I don’t know when. And actually tried to create distance between myself and living in the world since I was home from seminary.

Naturally, by nature, I, and my entire family, are emotionally intense. We all experience emotions more than most people. We’re all NFP’s (MBTI – myer briggs). We’re all 2/4/6 on the enneagram – the numbers that experience emotions the most intensely. And we all learnt not to trust ourselves and to cut off from what we feel.

Cutting off from what I feel means I don’t have an emotional language. It means I literally don’t experience what I feel. It’s something I’ve really worked on at times. To tune in to my body. It means I don’t always recognise what my body is telling me. I won’t necessarily realise I’m hungry since I’ve learned to create a distance.

I don’t have the ability to handle what I feel. I never learnt to handle what I feel, and whenever anything is too intense, it just doesn’t exist, it isn’t there – which created a lot of doubt, wondering what of anything I said or thought was true. Which makes sense considering that’s how I was brought up – whatever I said just wasn’t.

However. That never took away my empathy for others. Naturally, I would experience my own, and others emotions. I don’t experience my own. I experience others to an extent. I say only to an extent because it is only to an extent. I cut off from what I feel for others too. I don’t have the emotional language to feel their experiences. I have some of the logical language since it’s something I’ve looked up a lot.

So when I read through some articles on alexithymia, I related to one of someone describing her experience not feeling what she feels, and when I read an article describing what exactly it is – this wasn’t me. At all. It split alexithymia into if I remember cognitive and affective. And there were 2 ways to experience. One wasn’t relevant to me at all. And the other- wasn’t either. The other part described both not experiencing your own emotions, and not feeling empathy for others. I’ve always lived with empathy for others. Enough that others have described me before as an empath. I experience others emotions – until it’s too intense. I feel, and understand others emotions – although I do not have the language for them. Disconnecting from myself, and from my own emotions and body, to the extent that they didn’t exist, never meant disconnecting from others. Because my own feelings didn’t exist (which is why I never knew what I enjoyed – for what does ‘enjoy’ even mean? Bringing that up because I had a therapist for a year 3 or 4 years ago and I’m remembering that conversation. Where he asked me what I enjoyed. And we both realised that I had no idea what enjoy felt like or meant. I still don’t know what it feels like. I know what it means. And I know some things I like doing. I’ve slowly learned over the past couple years things I like, that give me space, that help etc), my own lack of feelings, never negated others. It did negate the terminology, it’s something I don’t have, an emotional language, not experiencing for them. If I wonder if that’s true, all I, or someone else, has to do is speak to my friends and ask them. I’ve cut off from myself. I didn’t cut off from others.

So unless that article I read was incorrect, I have my answer. That article described alexithymia as not experiencing emotions for oneself, not recognising bodily needs (both true) and not recognising others emotions – not the case for me. Could it be described for just the first, not the second, I’ve never actually researched the term. Was just putting this down to explain why. Which is something I could have – and have done before – in one sentence. That I grew up taught not to feel, so don’t.

6.01. I wondered if I was actually ever going to find the time to put down what I was thinking, I knew I wanted to for someone, and knew that either I’ll find the time, or I won’t. I actually thought maybe I’d have time in school tomorrow – today – since I’ve more free lessons and may be bored. I didn’t think it would be nearly an hour of writing…. 06.03. I do still hope to sleep a bit. Meant to be teaching at 9.30.

Brain story – leaving out those that are normal. The middle colour was for average, lighter for weaker, darker for stronger.

Neuroception and rhythm I left blank for I’ve no idea.

Balance – in some senses I’ve a stronger sense of balance than average. On the other hand I can get distracted which can cause me to lose my balance.

Pain is another one I chose both for. I’m highly sensitive, enough that when I read about SPD I identified with it. That was years ago, I’m not sure if I’d identify with it today. On the other side of being sensitive to pain, is having a tolerance for pain. Since so much registered as bothersome always, and I always knew it was just me, I knew I had to tolerate it.

Introversion, spacial awareness, and time awareness, I think are weaker than average. I often do not register if I’m hungry or full. Having learned to cut off from what I feel emotionally, the disconnection applied bodily too. It’s something I’ve learnt to try and tune in to. I’m really not spacial aware, or good at directions etc. Not so sure about time awareness.

My memory it seems is stronger than average. So I’m told :). It’s not something I’ve worked on. A love of words is stronger too. Not the spoken word, the written word. It actually depends. I often find reading easier to absorb than hearing. My family have often asked me if the words I use are real words – I’ve picked up language from reading, and I always read above my grade level.

My sense of hearing, touch, and taste are more sensitive then most. Or they used to be :). High pitched noises really bother me. The air frequency and pressure of the air changes according to pitch of voice, especially when people are singing. I’ve never researched it, I know that singing changed the air pressure for there ate times that singing can really bug me – if I’m next to it I mean, for it causes ringing in my ears (the pressure of the air changing). Sensitive to taste means I eat what others consider bland foods. Definitely sensitive to touch. I register the slightest touch.

Hmm. That’s it.

I know I’m not really reading or part of the community here (and yes I think of you all) and that makes me wonder whether I should write anything here or not. I think I’m going to cuz I’ve shared one side and I want to share the other, and I don’t need you to reply.

I really care a lot about you all. However long it’s been since I’m on here I feel connected to you all. I’ve read your blogs and although I haven’t recently, um, is a year called recent???? when I’ve headspace I look at the last couple posts that come up in my feed. I can’t forget about people, or stop caring. I always care and wonder how you are and have you in my thoughts. From those of you in school to those of you photographing to those of you with your grandkids, and those who share their journeys through life or therapy, or your writing, adventures, cooking.

The past few days, I’ve learnt that there are warning signs, or more like, my actions can tell me where I’m at. It’s not something I’ve realised or known about myself. That what I’m doing can tell me where I’m at. Things that would tell me that I’m seeing death as happening soon are (and these can be good things too).

• Writing love letters – letters to those I love telling them how much they mean to me, or letters to people from SF or Instagram sending love. I don’t actually have anyone’s address on here.
• Sorting through, printing, organising, categorising photos.
• Sorting out my room.
• Calling/spending time with those close to me (for the purpose of giving them memories).
• Spending less time with those close to me (so that the loss won’t hurt as much).
• Writing notes in case they’d be found that it’s not your fault.
• Looking up, or buying gifts.

This doesn’t include actually buying or trying to buy a specific method. I have enough stuff here I could always use, and I always have some sort of plan in the back of my mind. Over the past year I’ve done these pretty often. I guess I can see where I was at would I have a record – Any time I bought gifts, or wrote letters, or organised my pictures etc etc.

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On Friday I went out – just to return a coat and into a couple of other shops like the pound shop. And I saw myself. I was saying hello to every person. Telling those trying on things what I liked. Just. Being myself. Spreading sunshine and glitter kinda. I want to brighten up every persons day.

I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been me in that way. I don’t say hello to everyone where I live, but that’s cuz of anxiety. By nature I would.

And I think I finally understood what it means when people flirt with me. For those reading, I grew up in an ultra orthodox community with gender separation. I’ve never dated and I’m friendly with every person I meet. I’ve never understood why some men respond some ways and people have told me it’s flirting. Remember, I’ve never dated, been to a bar, listened to the radio, watched TV. (Those are things I’ve still never done). So I see the difference for however much I was talking to the Guy in TK Maxx, he didn’t ask me for my number or if I wanted his, or ask me about my marital status, or if I’d ever want to go out. And yes, when I go into all the random shops, the newsagents kinda shops, I get that nearly consistently. Maybe 50% of the time. It’s like, should I not be being myself? Should I not be engaging with them? I’ve no issue saying no, but today I’m finally realising that it’s flirting. Though what does flirting even mean?

And Motzei shabbat (Saturday night) I was out with a friend and the sky was awesometastic. And today when I was walking to school there was just so much beauty everywhere. Beauty I haven’t noticed in I’m not sure how long. When I was putting pictures into my album I realised how I haven’t taken pictures in so long. Haven’t been wanting to capture, noticing, the beauty around me.

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I’ve kinda cut off too. Not connecting to what I feel at all at all – and usually I do somewhat. I know it’s there for there’s a slight on edgeness, it’s not the right word but I don’t have the right words, that I see often in my body, the tightness of breath etc, not much, just a little.

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I’m blessed with my friends. The friend I went out with on motzei shabbat I told her partially why I hoped to go away this week. I can’t recall how much I said – definitely not much detail. Afterwards she WhatsApped me that she apologises for not keeping in touch. She’s nothing to apologise for. She’s a friend who when we’re in the same town we see each other, and she doesn’t keep up with people on the phone much. I’ve spoken to her a bit whilst she’s been abroad, mostly when she wanted support, but very rarely. Either way, she said that if I ever want to speak I should text her I want to speak and she’ll call me back when she can. I was, am, touched.

I’ve always been a friend to my friends. I rarely allow people into my world. And however much I share, it’s always nothing compared to reality. There’s only one friend I share with, and that’s really not often. Mostly I’ll be there for her.

The friend I do share with, well, a tad I do :), if I would have been able to travel today, she would have met me, and taken off work for Tuesday and Wednesday, and stayed with me from today until Thursday morning. She’d have left her son, too. I’m not saying she wouldn’t have appreciated the break. She’d have loved having the break. She’d arranged it that work and her husband and son would be okay for her to come away with me.

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I’ve no idea what tomorrow, this week, will bring. Last week, when I was in a safer space, I was scared for this week – would I be able to keep myself safe? I’ve gotten closer to ordering something than I ever have – every time I wanted to I put in more research, so every time I’ve had some less steps to take to find out how. Of course, it’s always possible that I’d pay the money and it’d be a scam. There’s no way to buy and get proof of purchase for something that can’t be sold. I don’t know how hard it would be to order it. So I wanted to be away. Which hasn’t happened. And as these days approach I’m okay with it. I’m okay with seeing what is. For this moment I’m okay. And if tomorrow, or the next day, or the next etc, I’m not okay, I’ll deal with it then.

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I never read or edit what I write. I should because spelling mistakes bother me a lot and very often I find that what I write has been auto corrected to things I didn’t say. But. I hate doing that 🙂 so won’t.

I’d love to hear how you’re doing…

Sending love and sunshine.

Spoke – more like chatted online – to someone today (online therapist I’ve been chatting to). She pretty much de-escalated it. Which means maybe I’ll stick around to go away with my sister in a month and see then. Next week is triggering, need to, if I’m here, find a way to stay safe. Oh, and she hadn’t known how much I was planning, which I thought she had. And she had attended a neurodiversity training and recognised me in a bit of it. Well duh. I’m not writing this for responses but to say that I’m here. I should put more down but head’s spinning and need to plan next week.