Still no answers as to what the fuck is wrong with me.
I will talk to my therapist about it on Thursday. He might have some ideas.
Because, again, the question is : if it’s not autism, what is it?
What made me such an odd little robot child? Why did I have such trouble connecting with the other kids? Why did I not give a crap about toys, or playing for that matter?
Why wasn’t I like the other kids in a way both subtle and profound?
What caused me to grow so very differently?
Was I simply too smart for my own good?
It could easily be that simple. I was (and remain) so weird because I was parsecs ahead of the other kids in term of IQ and that made me bizarrely different right from beginning.
Like I keep saying – and now I know why – I never stood a chance.
It’s a plausible, logical enough explanation which is sufficient enough to work with at least, and yet I resist it.
Because part of me doesn’t want it to be that simple. The thought of it sends a strand of half-frozen molasses sliding through the veins of my heart like an alligator slipping silently into the river on a moonless night.
My god am I good with the imagery.
I’m not sure why the idea that my native IQ’s to blame chills me so. Perhaps it because in a way it confirms that I really am an unusual being. Something that is Not Of This Earth. Someone who is alienated precisely because he is alien.
Yeah. I think that’s it. It bothers me so much because it precisely illustrates and magnifies that interstellar void that screams in itrage and hunger between me and most other human beings.
I’d rather it was something kinder. Something that didn’t make me feel like such a bug.
Something that didn’t make me feel alienated from myself.
Because I find that little robot boy to be pretty weird too. I have no more tools to use to relate to him than anyone else. I want to hug him and hold him and squeeze him so tight that all the light and love and warmth he needs can finally get through to him.
But then again, if I could do that, maybe he would melt away and disappear forever, and then I would be stuck being myself.
What a horrifying thought. So boring and limiting and dull.
Besides, no single identity could possibly encapsulate and express the brilliant shifting shaping glittering multifaceted multidimensional dazzling jewel of creation that I am.
That’s why I need to be free to shift shape with it. The only way I know of to have any sort of stability inside is to constantly run to keep up with it and thus get the sort of stability one gets from being a passenger in a speeding vehicle.
Sure, you’re going very fast. But it feels like you’re sitting still. Sort of.
It might not be much like the real thing but it’s all I know.
No wonder I’m tired all the time.
More after the break,.
Expect this to continue
I am probably going to keep harping on about what a weird kid I was for a while because I strongly intuit that there is a lot of therapeutic value in the subject. The search for answers feels very important and I feel like I can unlock a lot of long suppressed emotion by pursuing it, and maybe help myself thaw out a lot in the process.
Ergo, your continued patience is greatly appreciated.
You guys are awesome and I love you!
Today’s medical update
Now let’s see. Got my third Covid shot on Sunday.
Such a relief. Was feeling increasingly paranoid about it.
The pharmacy tech who gave me the shot was adorably Gaysian. Had the “gay accent” down perfect. It was a struggle not to start talking the same way.
People never take that in the code-matching spirit in which it is intended. They tend to assume you are making fun of them.
I’m just trying to speak your language!
It ended up being quite the ordeal, though, because they wanted me to hang around for fifteen minutes after the shot (to make sure I didn’t have a weird reaction to the shot) and there was nowhere to sit.
So I had to stand for fifteen minutes and that is Not Good. I am too fat, sick, and old for that. My feet swell up painfully and I get lightheaded and it is overall Quite Bad.
But I made it. And then we had to walk to the car. Which it turned out was roughly as far away from us as it was possible for us to be and still be on the premises.
Not blaming Joe and Julian for this. This was a supermarket parking lot on a Sunday afternoon in this population-dense neighborhood.
It’s not like they had a lot of spots to choose from.
In retrospect, I should have stayed at the supermarket entrance and had them bring the car to me.
But you know what they say about hindsight : it sucks.
So I ended up having to walk a ways on already swollen feet. And not only was that quite painful and stressful, it reminded me of what a fragile little butterfly I am now.
There’s got to be some way to fix that.
Anyhow, today I went to see Doctor Chao, my GP, about a certain event where my left hand and the left side of my face went totally numb.
I got better.
But I still don’t know what the fudge happened. So Doc Chao (master of kung-fu!) is referring me to the Stroke Prevention Clinic at VGH.
Sounds good to me, given my extensive family history of stroke and heart disease.
So that’s where I am, medically speaking. Inoculated and waiting for a call from the stroke prevention people. Lord knows how long that will take.
But at least I am getting some things done.
There may well be hope for me yet.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.