After a lovely, nice cup of tea, I took myself to bed to try and get a bit of sleep. No chance. My brain was too busy. I lay there, yawning, for about an hour, before getting up feeling completely frustrated with myself.
I'd been thinking about my father. How I loathed the man for having been so cruel to me when I was a kid. And I loathed him for deserting my brothers and I. Now he has joined the silent majority. A bit like the Monty Python parrot that no longer is, has ceased to be, and has shuffled off this mortal coil.
Then my whole life seemed to flash before me in an instant. I've always rejected the label of disability, but things started to fall into place. On the one handy condition gives some advantages, such as a huge intellect and attention to precision. On the other hand it is quite limiting. All the uncontrolled mental activity, the anxiety (particularly social anxiety) and depression, the inability to understand body language and unwritten social cues, the inability to read between the lines, the feeling of 'otherness' and the almost total lack of confidence, have been disabling factors in my life. They have held me back from reaching my full potential, which might have been much simpler had I been 'normal'. I think I have now accepted that I do have a disability, and need to try and be a bit fairer to myself, rather than fighting it off.
I keep seeing pictures on social media of a particular drinking establishment, where I used to play in a previous incarnation. It really is most annoying. The place is a cunt-trap.
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