In the moment, I said it had happened on Wednesday
but today is Wednesday
so it must have been Monday
or maybe even yesterday. I haven’t been sleeping well. The lines are blurring.
It’s a little embarrassing to admit how difficult it’s been to do so many small things these past six months – without the support I never took for granted but found easy to rely on … the simplest tasks have overwhelmed me.
Today, I’m finally taking my car in for an inspection too many months past due. I am terrified. Will it be done in time for me to teach classes on Friday? Tomorrow I can Uber around town but then … How do other people handle these things? What surprises will the mechanics find that I’ll have to pay for? Do I have enough? I know that autism makes these uncertainties harder for me than they are for other people. There is also PTSD. A lifetime of financial instability and chronic stress exposing my raw nerves despite the self-care measures I’ve cultivated.
I’ve been wondering if I should be allowed to live alone. I am not prepared for my father to move back to Alabama (later this year?) and I can’t really talk to him about it because I don’t want him to feel bad about leaving me. He’s already spent much of his life regretting not being there. He deserves to live out the rest of his life in peaceful retirement.

Let’s say it was yesterday because that was an especially difficult day to get through … for no good reason. Little stresses I should easily be able to overcome. But I burned out early – filing a complaint against the car insurance company because PennDot wants to fine me for unknowingly driving without the insurance I didn’t know had been canceled because I thought I made up the missed payment in time. As soon as I learned, I got a new policy. But the computers don’t care and people always think poor people are lying. Then, on a roll, applying for assistance with the gas bill and for medical assistance because I’m going to need help. Someone to talk to. The feelings are more than I am equipped to handle alone. What happens when it gets worse before it gets better? Haven’t I already learned this the hard way? I can’t just sit in paralysis and wait for my life to implode. It’s more likely to collapse in than blow up these days, but damage by any other name … By the time I got to school, I was already fragile.

I woke feeling weak and defeated, crying, after a dream I couldn’t find anyone to drive me to a hospital in the Lehigh Valley (90 minutes away) for surgery that required an overnight stay. The doctor said I wasn’t allowed to drive myself home. The dream was a series of rejections. One after another – the only people I had to turn to were not able to be there for me.

Awake, I knew this dream wouldn’t happen because I didn’t even have health insurance. Haha. No one was going to operate on me any time soon. This is the fear that forces us to endure the humiliation of asking for help. After class, I rested all night. Felt a little better this morning.

And then, after class today, a student asked to be excused in advance from Friday’s class. He has to drive his dad to the hospital in New York for surgery. He’s going to have to stay overnight. No one else can do it.

I teared up instantly. Managed not to cry until I made it back to the adjunct office but the swell of emotion was apparent. I told the student about my dream. I appreciated him for stepping up. Told him it was important to be there for people. “Just send me an email so I don’t forget.” As if I could after this. I used to put so much faith in coincidences. Saw signs where nature hadn’t intended a message. It’s a little sad to see I don’t put stock in mystical moments the way I used to. I feel cold. A chill where there used to be thrill.

I’ve taken a precious hour to type through these thoughts. Hoping that in this purge of words the tears will evaporate and despite swollen eyes and fatigue, I will feel lighter for not avoiding the pain.

Chinese New Year is on Saturday. It’s the Year of the Dragon. I have many dragons to left confront even though I’ve been fighting them my entire life. I want to be the dragon – bold and lucky. More prosperous. The seventy-hour work week is not sustainable. I’ve been saying this since I started grad school in 2017. Seven years later, I still haven’t figured out how to work less and survive. I’ve felt the toll of it shaving years off my life but I continue to fight. It’s natural to have bad days. Bad weeks. Bad months. I’m still not good at asking for help but I’m better at it. There is less shame these days. More self-love. Despite the chill, I do believe it’s not too late for good things to happen. This alone is a victory.