Creative! Queer!! Autistic!!! on Nostr: I had a REALLY hard day today. May I talk about it? Early in the day, I noticed ...
I had a REALLY hard day today.
May I talk about it?
Early in the day, I noticed myself feeling good; my coworkers and I were all working along in rhythm, so nice and smoothly, and for the first time I felt, “We’re a real team! I’m part of a team!”
And then I realized how pathetic and miserable my life is that I could feel SO HAPPY about something that is, ultimately, worthless.
& that sent me on a spiral, solidifying my belief that I should have died in NYC, when I was “successful”, or “on my way to being successful”, instead of outliving any gains I’d made. Each day is spelunking into the depths of the humiliating torture of failure.
Later, I heard an “OH NO!!”; a young woman with three children, old enough to know better. The second eldest had just opened a lid to a pint of blueberries and dumped them out on the floor. As I was sweeping them up, the elder child scooped up a heaping spoonful of cherry tomatoes from the heirloom tomato bar and flung it towards the ceiling. As I scrambled after cherry tomatoes and blueberries, I head another “OH NO!!”. The family had made their way to my fruit cutting station and one of the kids had opened and dumped out the contents of a deluxe fruit tray (they take a long time to make) all over the floor.
As I mopped up the fruit and spilled fruit juice, I saw that my future is just this: cleaning up after poorly supervised children, forever and ever. No hope or chance this will ever get any better.
This is it.
(I am not looking for advice or sympathy, I just wanted to share a snapshot of this day which felt so momentous - not in a good way - with you.)
There was a time that I was able to support myself just by BEING myself, and now it seems the only way I can make money is forcing myself into deeper and deeper states of disassociation.
Published at
2023-09-06 00:53:18Event JSON
{
"id": "d231c63b463db1fd65c7aa42d9947258dfe80f4f4c6a114e8fdf7eef011d6e13",
"pubkey": "99d599c68c35a8035b65da0c2f70a7a6980e6a507a31bbd45776a9854edc945d",
"created_at": 1693961598,
"kind": 1,
"tags": [
[
"content-warning",
"I had a REALLY hard day today. May I talk about it?"
],
[
"proxy",
"https://neurodifferent.me/users/n69n/statuses/111015467331122013",
"activitypub"
]
],
"content": "I had a REALLY hard day today.\n\nMay I talk about it?\n\nEarly in the day, I noticed myself feeling good; my coworkers and I were all working along in rhythm, so nice and smoothly, and for the first time I felt, “We’re a real team! I’m part of a team!”\n\nAnd then I realized how pathetic and miserable my life is that I could feel SO HAPPY about something that is, ultimately, worthless.\n\n\u0026 that sent me on a spiral, solidifying my belief that I should have died in NYC, when I was “successful”, or “on my way to being successful”, instead of outliving any gains I’d made. Each day is spelunking into the depths of the humiliating torture of failure.\n\nLater, I heard an “OH NO!!”; a young woman with three children, old enough to know better. The second eldest had just opened a lid to a pint of blueberries and dumped them out on the floor. As I was sweeping them up, the elder child scooped up a heaping spoonful of cherry tomatoes from the heirloom tomato bar and flung it towards the ceiling. As I scrambled after cherry tomatoes and blueberries, I head another “OH NO!!”. The family had made their way to my fruit cutting station and one of the kids had opened and dumped out the contents of a deluxe fruit tray (they take a long time to make) all over the floor.\n\nAs I mopped up the fruit and spilled fruit juice, I saw that my future is just this: cleaning up after poorly supervised children, forever and ever. No hope or chance this will ever get any better.\n\nThis is it.\n\n(I am not looking for advice or sympathy, I just wanted to share a snapshot of this day which felt so momentous - not in a good way - with you.)\n\nThere was a time that I was able to support myself just by BEING myself, and now it seems the only way I can make money is forcing myself into deeper and deeper states of disassociation.",
"sig": "407f359c2eb80c77381a67a218b4f68e92f9b106a12f0ac4fb072b4e92e652755117764dc7851d179a214e59be8f001a23f1eaa9522dc5b6dc59f7e334522048"
}