I’ve always known I feel the cold. I had just never thought about in terms of those wonderful labels that started clicking into place once I got my diagnosis.
Behold as she bravely dodges crushing responsibilities, traverses deadly social interaction, and finally navigates her way back, injured and bruised yet still fighting, to bask in the adoring (furry) crowds of home!
I’ve never talked about this particular stim before, or considered it as a ‘stim’ in the same way I class my other stims. It’s one of those ‘ew gross’ actions that you try to keep hidden from the rest of the world.
Was I destined to be super-glued to square one for the rest of my life? Am I stuck in a destiny I desperately do not want? What more can I do?
Being laughed at for falling for a prank is different. It tells me that, no matter how hard I have tried to calcify myself and arm myself and be vigilant, I have failed. It tells me that I am ridiculous, and gullible. It tells me that no matter how hard I have worked to get it right, I am still getting it wrong.
I’m not here to talk about why I desperately do not want to leave the EU. This post is about what is going on in my head as we hurtle towards this seismic change.
I love singing. If I had my way, I would spend at least 95% of the time…