I’m still alive!
New Job is going okay. It’s basically the same thing I was doing at Exjob, just a little less organized (ugh!) but a little better paid. My business unit is not in the same city, and I don’t work on local projects the way I did there, which leaves me feeling a little bit disconnected from the people in my physical office. But everyone seems nice.
My other knee has decided it wasn’t getting attention and has rebelled in an unidentified (as of this post) and painful way. I didn’t fall on it as with my right knee (well I did, but that was more than ten years ago, so I don’t think that’s the reason). Physical therapy did not help. I had an MRI yesterday – hopefully, that will shed some light on the situation. I’m guessing I’ll probably need another surgery. It’s a good thing I saved my mobility aid from last time.
Photo: Elizabeth West
No, I haven’t finished Book 3 yet. *sigh* Truth be told – I’ve been stuck.
I know how the story will end. The path to that end is meandering through metaphorical forest but not completely lost. I know Ilarrya well enough to take the Martinsburg pahss (if you read Confluence, you know) through it in search of the MacGuffin (Chris).
There is some research I need to do that requires me to walk around outside, and that’s part of the issue. My knee is not in good enough shape to do that right now, especially since it will not! stop! raining! every damn weekend. I think that’s part of what’s holding things up, but not all of it.
Another surprise – not a total one, but quite unexpected. I’ve always been a little weird, and I’ve always struggled with things that seemed to come easily to other people. Well, there’s a reason for that.
I was apparently diagnosed with what was formerly known as Asperger syndrome as a kid, but we have no record of it, and no one ever said anything (in the ’70s, nobody knew what that meant anyway). The new job, being less organized than the old one and the source of some difficult adjustment, prompted some inquiries. When I was finally told, it made SO MUCH SENSE.
So, I got retested. The doctor explained what my results meant and officially confirmed the diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder (ASD) Level 1 (plus social anxiety for more funsies — whee!). It’s actually quite cool. I have words now to describe my experiences and can figure out what support and accommodations I need. This is even better than when I found out I had dyscalculia. Yay, diagnosis!
My work is very supportive of neurodivergent employees. We have a disability/ND employee network, and I already have a temporary accommodation for my own desk because hotdesking freaks me the fuck out. Now it can be permanent. Which is cool, because I already put granola bars and a sweater and stuff in the desk, ha ha.
Before you ask, I’m not the least bit afraid of the current regime. RFK Jr. swims in raw sewage; what does he know, and Dump Truck is proving to be even more of an incompetent boob than last time. I’ve survived worse than them and will again. The focus now is on people who are more vulnerable than I am, as yours should be.
None of this is an excuse for why my writing is going so slowly, mind you. It’s better described as a distraction. I spent my half hour in the open MRI machine thinking about the story and how to move my characters further along toward their goal, and I’ve just spent a couple of hours today working. The stuck parts are starting to feel a little less gummy. My current goal is simply to finish.
One step (lol) at a time.
Graphomaniac - A. Elizabeth West 