And what was she, the fairy Melusine?

 Am on a stupidly early train on the way to my best friend from uni's ordination to the diaconate of the Church of England. It's at St Paul's Cathedral which will be interesting. Not because I'm unfamiliar with it: when I was at secondary school we had an incredibly tedious founders day that happened at it, which involved having to wear smart casual dress and combine with the boys' school and their feeder school. Because capacity was limited you didn't have to go every year, only in set years (unless you were singing or playing an instrument but I wasn't musical in a "play big school events" sort of way and I wasn't in the choir because I was forced to do my homework in the library on a day that clashed with it. Quite vivid memories of the times I went, though. The first year my mum got me an ankle length skirt from Gap which was made of some kind of indestructible tough material and a blue blouse with a poncho. It was an incredibly Y2K outfit and did look quite good, the only problem being it was basically impossible to walk in that skirt. It did, however, mean I was not awkwardly wearing a business suit of my mum's which was what most other people did that first year, all looking somewhat ridiculous because they were, you know, 11.

Anyway, yesterday I started really freaking out about what to wear to this and how to do my hair,  which at first I attributed to it being a big event which required an outfit, something of which my life is somewhat short these days. Plus I've been growing my hair a bit: after a decade of an undercut it started causing sensory issues when it was slightly grown out and as I am (once again) shorter on cash than I would like I couldn't just go for more regular haircuts. So at the moment I have chin length hair which I can tie back if it is bothering me, and I am probably going to grow it a bit longer and see how I feel about that. All this means that I am currently having to remember how to style long hair, and work out how to style long hair in a masculine way when I want to do that. (Sometimes I am enjoying the playing with androgyny aspect of the current length). 

Anyway, initially thought the freakout was that combined with not having seen uni friend since 2019 or very early 2020. Then, as I was trying to find hair mousse for the first time since, idk, 2008 or 2009, it occurred to me that one of the issues might be that this was an echo of a thing at school. And a thing which used to be particularly stressful because it involved large amounts of formless time traveling to and from the Cathedral and waiting around with classmates, so you didn't have the safety of lessons. 

None of this made me worry less about my outfit, but it was an interesting thing to realise

 Right now, I really hate autism. Which is prob unfair of me and is not like a permanent state of being (I quite like aspects of me which are undoubtedly to do with being autistic, I have never not been autistic and I dislike change so lets assume I would dislike it). But I am so tired and I have to work so hard to be perceived as remotely normal and I did not get the circumstances where I could be just... mildly odd or someone who gets accommodations made for them easily. And my childhood was just... incredibly shitty for a lot of this stuff and some of it was within no-one's control whatsoever but I don't think I realised until well into adulthood that other people had grown up with baselines of security that were often missing for me. I'm into the final weeks of my PhD, I'm mid cancer scare and it honestly hurts at this point that I have so many coping mechanisms and am so good at seeming sort of okay that people will hear/see me say "everything is shit, these things are happening" and then they will just... assume I am basically fine. 

I know the suggestion with this is often "ask for what you need" and often I try to, but I just do not register with people very much. Which is odd, I am noticeable. I've used this analogy often enough recently in various conversations but it often feels like I can sort of be trying to muddle through something which is pretty horrific and trying to be clear but not too dramatic about it (because if I am dramatic I am read as hysterical) and then will get told by the person at whom I am trying not to be dramatic that their friend/acquaintance Y just stubbed her toe and that it is so important to mind her and its so hard for her because she has never stubbed a toe before and refuses to wear shoes or to look where she is going. And the thing I find impossible is that I try to be nice about Y because she probably can't help it in some way but also I sort of believe in free will enough that I think maybe she could and it is all so tiring. 

The life expectancy of people with Barrett's oesophagus is estimated at 22 years. Not enough research is done into it, and honestly that is skewed by the fact that most people with it are older, and obviously it could be worse. But the first part of my life has been really difficult and I would quite like a lot longer. 

 Just got a diagnosis of Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. Fuck.

(Would like to punch the 23 year old physio whose verdict was "it's just a bit of an angry ankle) 

 I had the second part of my autism assessment last night (because it was 9am in London, so 8pm here). Apparently I am autistic and have ADHD. This makes quite a lot of sense, although I wasn't expecting the ADHD so much. Apparently nearly every medication I was on from the age of 18-25 blocked dopamine, and this was a really bad idea given the ADHD means I run kind of low on dopamine. This... explains a lot. It also makes me quite sad. (I cannot overstate how much NHS mental health care in the 2000s and 2010s often involved just being told off for failing to function as though it was a fundamental problem with your character).

As Larkin would say, good to get that learnt. Hoping knowing this will make it easier to get through the last stages of the PhD and hopefully not have any more giant runs of burnout. 

I had the first part of a two part autism assessment this morning- the diagnostic interview with a specialist pyschologist. The second part is in a few weeks. The assessing psychologist said she'd be really incredibly surprised if I didn't meet the diagnostic criteria for autism.

Have an both a sense of relief and also, quite a deep, odd sadness about how long it took to get here. And, you know, I don't necessarily recommend spending three hours of your Saturday discussing your childhood and how difficult you often find interacting with people.

 So I am attempting crowdfunding for the first time in over a decade. Here is the gofundme link:

https://www.gofundme.com/manage/help-me-get-through-the-final-stages-of-my-phd?fss=1

Standard disclaimer of if you can barely make ends meet yourself, please do not donate. But if you can donate anything, it might help a lot. 

 The UK's getting increasingly LGBT-phobic, in lots of ways. Particularly the transphobia but also just a general drift which is making me uncomfortable: things like the Telegraph (which is always awful) running a story on how much the taxpayer spent on Pride, or just... a level of comfort with dogwhistles which is strongly reminding me of when I was younger. It's one of those things which takes a slow, creeping toll.

Anyway, there was a quite nasty homophobic stabbing in Clapham the other night (both victims are now released from hospital and doing okay, for people who were just stabbed, according to reports) and it was outside a bar I used to go to when I still lived in London, and about three minutes from a different gay bar to which I took my partner the first weekend they came to stay with me. And I'm putting this on Dreamwidth because I feel like a lot of other social media invites attention in a way with which I am uncomfortable, and I don't want to feel like I am performing some kind of stolen valour. But I feel weird and sad about how it was somewhere which had felt safe, as much as places can. 

 Moving continents remains very stressful. This time it has somehow become either as stressful but just in a different way, or more stressful, than the last time.

I am probably at capacity for stress. The universe, and most particularly, the bit of the universe that is my mother, does not care about this.

I have a therapy appointment tomorrow, I think. I hope it helps. I also pre-emptively feel sorry for my therapist. 

I had top surgery on 19th December. Which is four weeks ago tomorrow. I am, according to medical professionals, healing well and I am really pleased with the results. I'm sort of toying with the idea of writing some sort of zine like guide to top surgery recovery for a) people who are physically disabled and b) people who have been socially transitioning a long time, because I sort of did struggle to find resources on both pre top surgery. (Working title, "you cannot do the Macarena for six to eight weeks post top surgery").

We spent today driving to Liverpool to pick up a mobility scooter a friend of a friend is kindly lending me for the meanwhile. (I cannot currently use either my manual wheelchair or my smartcrutches and my mobility with a single stick is definitely limited. Also, after four weeks of barely leaving the house I really need improved access to outside). Have then spent the evening trying to google what sort of ramp would be most suitable for the front door and then despairing. But hopefully, soon, I will be able to go to Tim Horton's while my partner is at work without it taking aeons and being in acute pain. And maybe can sort out using the post graduate grant my Australian uni has awarded me to go on a short series of manuscript visiting trips.

I did a big professional conference at the start of the month and it was so good. Exhausting, and I am still recovering, but so good. I'm feeling a lot more grounded and centred than I have, mentally and emotionally for a long time.

(Naturally this means everyone in my social circles who speaks to each other seems to have had a network of very complicated falling outs, but I do not have Facebook so I am largely in the dark about this and do not really mind).

I'm still quite drained after the last 2-3 years and I am a week into a bloody awful pain flare, which is not helping things, but on balance things are a bit better and I am relieved about this