Nearly there

I've been watching the tiny first leaves of the self-seeded aquilegia seedlings appearing wherever they feel like it over the last few weeks. This is the first one with a flower head.
The bees will be pleased. These flowers are a real gift in spring.

Richard's back is still bad and I'm in a bit of discomfort myself today. We're both on painkillers. There's so much I want to do, should do and have to do that I had to push myself through a day on which normally I would have taken it a bit gentler.

My autistic spectrum report arrived today and I've tried to sit down and study it twice but it hasn't felt like I can really allow myself the indulgence at the moment. I need nothing else going on before I can take it all in.

I'm feeling really overwhelmed and over-loaded and longing for some still.

Life is like a picture book and I like to think I know what's going to happen next, but whenever I turn a page things aren't what I expect and I'm tired of the adventure.
We live in a world where it's perfectly okay for men to want things for themselves but it's not okay - it's unnatural even - for a woman to say she needs time for herself. I have to fight each and every day against that convention and my feelings. Sometimes it makes me feel like running away. I'm glad I know now why I have those feelings but it doesn't make them go away.

I remember I started writing a story about 2 years ago about an overwhelmed woman who loved cushions. She adored them in every colour, shape and size. She looked after them and loved having them in her house. But when other people found out about her cushion obsession they asked her if she would look after their cushions too when they moved house or went on holiday. At first she said yes and it was nice to have all that extra comfort but eventually she became overwhelmed and realised she was suffocating.

You can love everyone around you, totally and unreservedly. You can want the best for them and never want to be without them. You can mend them, fix them, wash them, feed them, listen to them, praise them, adore them for their uniqueness, but at some point you have to have time out, and for someone with an autistic spectrum condition those times might come more often than others. And that goes for women too.

Occasionally people have asked me if I am depressed. Eventually after many years I began to wonder if maybe I am. More recently I thought well I must be depressed because I couldn't understand why I kept feeling so overwhelmed. But I never felt like everything was worthless or hopeless or grim and couldn't quite make myself fit depression.

Now I know I'm not depressed, I'm just wired differently, and I'm relieved I can stop trying to find other explanations all the time.

I'm still bursting for some time out though.

Tired.