I'm glad that my daughter and I have resurrected our living room discos. When I was pregnant with her brother, we stopped. And for a long while afterwards we didn't do it. But over the past few months, even as my mood has gradually darkened, we've been dancing again. And tonight, I dance with sweet abandon. The physicality is all. My very being craves it. And afterward, I feel replenished, nourished, and full of love.
Less than a fortnight ago, I wrote about being "rigid". I explained about my need for schedules, plans, and organisational strategies. My need to prepare, and my alarm and anxiety in the face of uncertainty and ambiguity. It's there in my pre-assessment mapping to the DSM-V guidelines, under my response to Criterion B2, exemplified by: … Continue reading Are we REALLY that inflexible?
Over a decade ago, when I was working as a low-level administrator in a university student support unit, I remember a student who was a regular and frequent visitor to our service. He came in virtually every day. He spoke in a staccato, "mechanical"-sounding voice. He always wore the same choice of clothing: blue outdoor … Continue reading Why I “can’t possibly be Autistic”, Reason #3: I’m not THAT rigid, right?
Wearing sunglasses helps me cope with noise. And yes, I do mean noise in an auditory sense. But this doesn't have anything to do with synaesthesia which, to the extent I've analysed myself and my perceptions of the world so far, is not something that I experience. Over time since my diagnosis, I've reflected and reflected … Continue reading I wear sunglasses to deal with the noise.
I've been something of a performer all my life. At primary school, it was drama. I never got to be the heroine or the pretty princess, but that didn't bother me (mostly). Gleeful, gorgeous, grotesque riches were bestowed upon me in the form of 'character' parts: witches, ghosts, and anyone requiring an accent. I got … Continue reading Performance
I have a problem. I've had it most of my life. I'm scared of asking people for stuff. I've written before about my love of Dr Martens boots. What I've never mentioned before is how long it took me to actually work myself up to asking my parents for my first pair. Everyone at school … Continue reading I hate asking people for stuff.
Very recently, I published a post grieving over the demise of a great love affair of mine, with drawing and with art. But even as I did so, elsewhere in my life I've been subtly, in small ways, bringing drawing, and creativity back into my life. I lament my lack of formally-developed skills and techniques. … Continue reading Small ways to be creative
As a kid, most of my spare time was spent drawing. It was my earliest passion. I was no savant. But I suppose, on reflection, I did have at least some innate "gift". The people I colourfully produced aged just three, in bright felt tip, were anatomically correct (in as much as having, for example, … Continue reading A passion, stolen
In between bouts of abject misery, whilst I've been off work over the summer holidays I've been immersed in a nice little obsession that has gripped every single member of our four-person household. My husband was always a huge Lego fan as a child, and was always eager, from her birth, for our girl to … Continue reading In praise of the brick
[Author's note: I'm publishing this post almost simultaneously with a previous one because I had both stored up as drafts in my paper notebook, but hadn't had sufficient "get-up-and-go" to publish them until now. This is the more recent of the two.. However, I felt that the other post was sufficiently time-specific to need publishing … Continue reading It’s never all bad.