I took my cat to the vet again this morning. She had a lump on her abdomen, which was so low that it scraped against the floor. The vet did say, during the previous visit, that it was likely not malignant. It was an independent lump, not connected to any bodily systems.
I was worried about her. I trust my vet. I was worried more about the general anesthesia. Sometimes things do go wrong with that. But all went well, and my cat is home safe and sound. Her belly is half-shaved. She’s eaten, and getting more clear headed. Yay!
I went to see Midsommar this afternoon. It was good. Continue reading Midsommar
I took my cat to the vet this morning. She had been losing weight over the past couple of months. No idea why: she’s eating well, and is not ill in any other way. She had blood drawn, and those tests came back negative. We have changed her diet some since the previous visit. If she had lost weight this time as well, the vet was thinking about doing an ultrasound and see whether it was an internal issue.
She did not like being put into her carrier and taken outside. I can totally understand, but it was for her own good. Not like I can make her understand that, of course. I did tell her, and she chose not to listen. Or she didn’t understand. Both are equally likely.
Some (a lot) of the people I follow on Twitter have answered the question: What is the Top 5 films you watched as a teen that made you gay? Besides that just watching films doesn’t change your sexual orientation, because otherwise with the abundance of heteronormative stuff about, we would all be straight, it made me realise that I could not participate in this discussion. For the simple reason that I didn’t see films that matched my orientation. Mainly because if you asked me at the time, I would have said I was straight. I did have a (one) bisexual fantasy, but that’s about it. All my crushes during puberty were male. Sometimes, this is enough to make me wonder (worry) whether I can call a bisexual at all. But we get at out identities at our own pace, in our own time, so I can forgive myself for worrying about this.
It does make me feel I am missing out somewhat. I don’t have any media I can point back to and say: “This is what helped me. When I was figuring out who I was. What I was. Who I could be.” Not that my whole puberty was bereft of queer stuff, and I am trying to make up for it now. It just feels like I am missing something crucial. Well, maybe not that crucial, since I do know what and who I am without this experience. But maybe it would have been nice, and possibly somewhat easier, if I hadn’t missed out.
AutoStraddle, Girl on Girl Culture – Lesbian and Bisexual Women at the Edge. One of the few independent queer sites out there. It needs your, our, my help. They’re currently holding a fundraiser in order to keep the site going. Please donate here. I’ve donated already. It’s a good place, full of good, queer stuff. Essays to make you think, or cry, or both. Vapid fluff, for when you need a break from reality and just want to look at pretty women, Activism. I feel at home there (even if I feel old when I don’t recognise half the people in Vapid Fluff). It’s a place where I can be queer and not have to worry about what people might think about this side of me.
So please, if you can, throw some money their way. Help other people have a place where they can be queer in peace.
I am fan of My Dad Wrote a Porno, a podcast where a man, along with two friends, reads the erotic literary his father wrote. It’s s quite popular, so chances are you’ve already heard of it, or are listening to it yourself.
They’re doing live shows this and next year, in Britain and the Continent. Guess what I’ll be seeing October 2020? #Pornoday is coming!
We had a team building event the other day. The department I work in is going to merge with another one, and it was deemed nice for the two to get to know one another. Basically, it was what you would expect from it: a load of corporate speak, some inoffensive games/identifying your weak points and strong qualities. The usual. We had a good lunch, and the location was great. Nice weather as well: load of sun, and it stayed dry.
All in all, I’d rather not do it again. I did not leave with the feeling we had accomplished anything. I did get to talk geek again with a coworker, so it was not a complete loss. I’d rather have been at work, though.
I meditate. It helps me to get out of my head, a place where I stay too much otherwise. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I still have a body. And emotions, those things that you feel and which I don’t have much insight in. I’ve done this years ago, when I was still at university, but after a while I dropped it. After I got diagnosed, I did a course geared towards people with autism, carried on with it a bit after it ended, and then stopped. Now I’ve got a smartphone and an app to help me, and I’ve started again. I like doing it. It gives me a moment of rest during the day, or, if I do it in the morning, a good start.
And it helps me outside of the designated meditation-times as well. When I am at work, and my attention wanders away from what I am doing, I know how to get it back to the task at hand, and to not beat myself up about it wandering. It’s just what minds do. The trick is to get it back on track. What also helps me is using the Forest-app to set aside the time I am going to work. Knowing that I have a tree growing and I can’t use my phone during that time helps me a lot to stay focused. “I am working. I want to do something else. I can’t use my phone, because Forest. Oh well, back to work then.” Because I then don’t use the internet on the computer either (90% of the time. The remaining 10%, I don’t care). Having a set period in which to work has helped me tremendously. I know what I can expect, more or less. I am not a fan of completely planning out my day, and I think it wouldn’t work for me either, but having a general idea of what to expect is beneficial. So, knowing that the coming 60 minutes I will be working is helpful to me. And meditation helps me to get my attention back when it wanders.
Unsurprisingly, I am still neuro divergent. Yeah, apparently this kind of thing will stick with you for the rest of your life. (Before anyone starts taking me seriously, I have never even in jest contemplated that the autism would ever go away. I am not daft.)
On the whole I appear to have adjusted quite well. And quickly, according to my therapist. But then, for me it was more a matter of having an explanation for why I was the way I was. Dealing with myself I had been doing for the 37 years leading up to the diagnosis. Now I just do it with less self-recrimination. (It doesn’t always work like this, of course. Sometimes I still beat myself up for not ‘being the same as the people around me. Why can’t you be more social and flexible? Or at ease in crowds?’ Ignoring that a lot of neurotypical people also for uneasy in crowds, or aren’t flexible, or any of the things I keep berating myself about. But that’s probably the depressing talking. Which I’ve got under control for the moment, as long as I remember to call for a repeat scrip in time. Even two days without is a big pain.)
Going off topic. The diagnosis has helped me, though. I have started treating myself better, having more compassion and understanding for myself. Doing the whole boundary thing is still something of a struggle: I get anxious about standing up for myself to others. My supervisors know this is something I struggle with, and they encourage me to speak up when I need something. This is also not typical just for me: I’ve got at least 3 coworkers with the same problem.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Still into comics, still autistic, still me. The cat I adopted from the local shelter is thriving. And demanding. And taking over the house slowly but surely. In other words, she’s being a cat. She has got some issues, probably from wherever she lived before ending up on the street (which is where the animal cops picked her up), so it is still slow going. It took about a year and a half before she felt brave enough to come downstairs, but now, when I come home late in the evening, she will be there waiting for me, wanting me to come upstairs so I can pet her.
I left my previous job (well, I had run out of contract-extensions), and got hired at the university by an HR-department. That extended into me getting hired at another department, and working a 40-hour week. That worked, until it didn’t. Now I have negotiated to work 32 hours a week. I am not open about my autism, though my colleagues and supervisors do know that I need some extra support. That is how I got in in the first place.
My group for women with autism has disbanded. I don’t know what replaced it: after the disbanding I stopped caring. In retrospect, I think it was in part because I didn’t really identify as a woman, so I felt somewhat out of place.
I now volunteer at a group for autistic queer people, which meets every third Saturday of the month. That environment suits me a lot better.
I even got a smartphone last month. Truly, I am moving with the times.