The last few days have given me a lot of time to think. Perhaps too much time.
I haven’t yet come to a decision about a couple of things.
I still feel sad and lonely. I’m still more tearful than I should be.
I wish I wasn’t alone.
But it’s been peaceful. It’s given me the space I needed. And, despite some challenging circumstances, I’ve been managing the whole autism thing quite well. (Although I had a bit of a wobble today when people kept pushing in queues – other people not abiding by normal social rules is definitely a trigger for me.)
Which makes me wonder whether it’s not so much the condition that I find difficult, but the particular circumstances in which I find myself much of the time.
And I’m not sure what the answer to that is. Or whether there is an answer.
Here, I’m all right.
When I’m home again, I don’t know whether I will be.
But tonight, the light is amazing. And if I take nothing else with me, it will be the memory of the light to add to the pictures in my mind that I use when I’m trying to calm myself down.
And, although it’s very bad poetry, tonight I felt inspired to try and write for the first time in ages:
Evening, Port St Mary
I cannot tell where sea meets sky.
The air is scented, cool, and still.
Above me flocks of seagulls cry;
Behind me sleep soft-focus hills.
The waves break gently on the shore.
A yacht sits quiet in the bay.
There is no tumult any more,
Just calm night after restless day.