This is an unsettling, highly subjective and sometimes not even quite true journal of my way through my middle years: a mixture of attempts at mindfulness and simply feeling quite mean and miffed about stuff.
Plus the odd confession about leering at pretty young men.
And if you like some of what I write, please consider a donation to the National Autistic Society – thank you:
-mouthed and childishly proud of it, I’d like to think I can call a c*** a c*** where absolutely necessary.
In reality, I don’t swear out loud very often as I live in the posher part of South Croydon (just outside London, England) and my daughter has lovely friends and so I want the Mummies to like me, but I do it in my head all the fucking day long.
My Dad will be so upset.
Permanently slightly crustily bare-footed, sometimes irregularly showered, happy-to-share-the-bed-with-pets type of dirty, not tramp dirty.
Surprisingly naive, comfortably open, sharing, candid, expressive… and proud of it. I’m self-confident enough to believe I couldn’t possibly have much to lose by being myself. People say I’m too nice and mean it as a criticism. I smile sweetly and call them a c*** in my head.
Sometimes veering towards blatant and flagrant in opinion… and as I get older, no longer fussed about suppressing it. Never nasty or bitter but learning to be forthright. Not a feelings-hurter by any means but not so much of a doormat either.
…and happy to leave the house without make-up on.
By most people’s standards, I’ve let myself go.
I am at a lower point than a combination of every single woman who has ever been patronisingly made-over on Lorraine and This Morning put together.
The trouble is, although I should be motivated to scrub up and make an effort, I’m…
…and I know it and I’m clapping my chubby little hands in gay abandon. Yeah, fuck you cynics, I’m genuinely happy. Life ain’t always easy but I was lucky to be born with a half-full cup, I seriously love my life:
I’m alive, current weight and lifestyle means I’m technically playing roulette with the long-term health but I’ll get on top of that eventually…
Happily married, limited sex life due to beautiful [Aspergers Syndrome] daughter sleeping in our bed every single night and being clamped to my side all the day, but hubby and I still able to laugh together til we can’t breathe, and miss each other terribly when we’re apart…
Two stinking-little-ratbag dogs who bark incessantly and sometimes bite people. One of them refuses to stay housetrained – and if she’s not shitting somewhere in the house, she’s eating shit – but they get me out of the house walking in beautiful places and breathing fresh air and they are excellent hot water bottles (if you hold your breath). Also, nice old cat, lovely non-scratching type.
Mother-in-law installed in the granny annexe, occasionally claustrophobia-inducing, but she does all the ironing…
Not many close friends, but those I have are genuine and treasured.
Some people think we’re bonkers and odd but I’m not so bothered about them as I know it’s jealousy because I am so blinking HAPPY.
Photo Credit: Karva Javi Flickr via Compfight cc