what

a six month spin and freefall (probably longer now) when someone else’s psych said about me

he’s definitely autistic 🗯

and as much as it made sense of too many things and gave her a reason why i am so bloody difficult for her to live with now i don’t know who am am any more and i can’t do the things that autism (or maybe not) made me good at any more either 💀 hyperfocus has turned into no focus at all, a constant state of flooded dysregulation and hyper-vigilance about what i will do and how she will react, trying to numb my rampant brain on those nights without sleep 💀

now everything is anger or tears or both at once or overwhelmed confusion like my own private dystopian nightmare, a vortex of negative feedback and i lie broken and pathetic at the bottom 💀 the sun is too hot and earth turns too slowly into shadow and even the nights leave me soaked in sweat, and there is no poetry in me, no music but the constant earworms 💀

the certainty that circled enticingly — fragments of informal diagnoses, empathetic podcasts, even the furious voices of the cassandras, has dispersed skyward, a shrapnel of shattered hope 💀 the buzzing swarm has recruited poorly suppressed memories of childhood horrors, cause and effect hopelessly confused, a churning bile of spurious correlation. memories of parents both insistent and disengaged, hard emotions neutralised by sarcasm and shame 💀