Sock Free Hideaway

BEATS OF LOVE 

121. Nancy’s Minuet by The Everly Brothers

I'M POSSIBLY the only person shocked by my level one autism diagnosis. Shocked that it made me deeply sentimental by imagining a full life with this being made known since childhood. 

A life when my father doesn't die at 46 and a life where I'm not pushed so fucking hard to achieve things and cast-off by him for not understanding algebraic equations. Fortunately, after caving into these strong emotions, I had to consider the missus, in the here and now.

I'd promised a cake tomorrow for tea today and shut myself off from her frustration. Reminiscent of my mother's frustration when my father promised a foreign holiday that had never come. Everything in life intensified, bizarrely, when reading for some inspiration at the tail-end of my Master's dissertation about detention centres in the US, I got a call from the missus. She'd just routinely signed in with the Home Office and was being detained. The darkest fear that hung over me that day hasn't stopped lingering since, despite our change in fortune, and so I haven't been able to multi-task my life accordingly. 

Luckily, the missus has gone from strength to strength. I put everything down to anxiety and set an end date when I can get my life back on some kind of course. Still three years away. I know now that this is nonsense. Autism will prevent this unless I take some counselling right now to remedy matters. It's very frightening as I'm still waiting for the buff to arrive and have no clue how slow-moving things will be. The diagnosis itself took an age. 

Beats Of Love was up to this post written unwittingly from a place of the mildest form of autism. This is the first post that isn't. This dramatic song was the last song I played, unwittingly, in a place of the mildest form of autism. Cheers Bob Stanley.