A Few Words

 Herself speaks.

I don't write about the Offspring much, because they are young adults and entitled to their privacy. I wanted to take a moment, though, to say a few words about the two Offspring who are currently under the roof, since they will be moving forward to other places soon (whether it be in a week, or a month or two),  and I am feeling a bit wistful.

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Last night when I went upstairs to bed, Offspring the Third went upstairs at the same time. He paused as he walked by my door and said, "the hinge pin is coming out." Sure enough, it was. He turned around, disappeared back downstairs, and returned with a mallet. Tap, tap, tap. "There, all set." He tapped the other two hinge pins on the door for good measure while he was at it. Then he explained the mallet to me, how it was apparently filled with little lead pieces so that there was no bounce-back or damage to the surface. I learned something new. And then he bade me goodnight.

It is these interactions that I will miss the most when he goes back to school. He is helpful, and takes care of things that he sees need doing without my even asking (and before I even notice they need doing). He explains things in a way that is interesting and informative. It's just delightful. What a good egg he is. 

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This afternoon I was chatting with Offspring the Second. He's making Plans, and it's clear that he's being very thorough and thoughtful about his planning processes. He thinks of things I wouldn't have considered, and it's so helpful to hear his point of view and to look at the way things are done from another angle. He is so patient, and has been so diligently working toward his goals, despite the Pandemic being an absolute Horror Show in so many ways. 

He is so kind to the bunny trio, and so patient with the noise and the clutter of other people in the household. I try to be like him, he's a shining example of perseverance and good humor and thoughtfulness. What a good egg he is.  

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I know I'm biased because I am their mother, but I think that my Offspring are all genuinely lovely people. I hope they find every happiness. 

Slippers

TikTok Wisdom

I was idly roaming through TikTok while waiting for something today, and came across this video. I'll post it in its entirety below, but in case it is removed, the Creator is @catieosaurus, and the relevant text goes like this:

If you love somebody with ADHD or another neurodivergency and you often have trouble communicating, I have a pro tip for you. It's going to sound silly, but hear me out. Establish a secret code word or gesture, or both, for the following three things: 

number one: I have an immediate thought in my head and I need to say it as soon as you are done talking.

number two: I'm overwhelmed or overstimulated and I need assistance with that in some way.

number three: I am paralyzed by indecision and I really need you to make a choice on this.

The Creator goes on to explain why these things are helpful and nice. 

I had to pause, though, after she pointed out number two: number two: I'm overwhelmed or overstimulated and I need assistance with that in some way.

That's a thing!?

One of the reasons I've suspected that I fall on the autism spectrum somewhere, is that I am aware of occasional situations when I feel overwhelmed or overstimulated. Since I'm an adult, I do what I imagine all adults do in such overwhelming/overstimulating situations: we suck it up and do what must be done and then cry/process/ruminate in the privacy of our cars or at home by ourselves later. Isn't that what everyone does?  

But now I'm to understand that... it's possible to ask for help in those situations? And that someone might actually help? In the moment? Help with processing/managing emotions? People help other people do this? Right then? Without question or criticism? Just... help? 

Why does this blow me away? 

Perhaps I can do this for myself - establish my own private gesture for when I am overwhelmed or overstimulated. If I can recognize it in the moment, that will be my first step in being able to acknowledge it, step back and help myself.

Japan

It sounds like it would be an interesting actual walk. 

Peekaboo

Feisty

Mr. Bun-Dad is feeling much better after his neuter, and is quite feisty these days. Good boy. 

Selfies

 Herself speaks.

I posted a new hair selfie to Facebook yesterday, that showed my face in addition to the new hair style. Hairdo? Coiffure? How does one describe hair these days? A headshot, as it were. Awkward. But it was what I look like, with enough blurring and good lighting. 

I know a lot of people consider selfies to be vanity. (I have some trouble with them sometimes myself, depending on the photo) There was purpose to my posting, though: to come to terms with who I am, and how I look, at this point in my life. 

I turn 54 in a week. That's... not young. It's not old, necessarily. But it's past the bloom of youth, there is no doubt. Like many women around my age, I struggle a lot with body issues and body image issues (two very different creatures). 

On the one hand, we have perimenopause, migraines, stretch marks and scars; that extra bit of weight that it is increasingly difficult to shed; embers of desire that are slower to ignite and need patience and encouragement; small glitches in various systems that need addressing and occasional medications. On the other hand, we have fears about loss of youthfulness, invisibility of middle age, lack of desirability, worries and fears both large and small, that crowd our brains and our hearts and keep us from letting go our doubts and enjoying moments. These are commonalities of so many women like me. 

Once upon a time, when I was young and bright-eyed, with clear skin and taut flesh, I dreamed of being found attractive not just for my body (which met enough societal standards to be the target of men looking to see whether I was an easy lay), but for my intellect, my personality, my self -- for I, like all young women, was taught that men only wanted one thing. It was a fantasy to be desirable in all ways - body AND mind. 

Now in the heart of middle age, those naive dreams have been replaced by a quiet inversion. After years of working hard on who I am as a human being -- through raising other small humans, learning my own flaws, and trying hard to do better and to grow personally and professionally -- I am a bit more comfortable with who I am as an individual. Most of the time, I like who I am as a person. I know my flaws, and I know how I could do better, and I continue to try. I assume on an intellectual level that my mind is worthy of love. (Whether I am ready to accept such love is another matter, for another day's discussion.)  I'm OK. 

It's my body that I have the most trouble with. It's... not so loveable. 

This is why I took a selfie. (Or two. Or twenty. Until I found one that I could tolerate looking at for a full two seconds without cringing.) And then I posted it. So that I could acknowledge my physical form publicly -- to see myself through others' eyes, instead of just through my own. And so that I can reflect on the fact that this is me, and I am within that bodily vehicle, and that despite its difficulties, it serves me reasonably well. So perhaps, even though it isn't physically particularly alluring, it is still worthy of love anyway.