It was an email to a friend

…and now it’s an edited newsletter for you

Hello 🫶(I realized that I often use exclamation points to seem enthusiastic, but today I’m feeling more “cry at every social situation” so I thought I would use a gentler punctuation in the form of hands shaped into a heart to show that I appreciate you)

((This is how I began the email to my friend

Amy Yuki Vickers

, and when I’d finished reading it, I realized that the way I write to my friends…it’s the way I write here, a personal note to you. I’ve left out all of the Amy related intricacies because those are for just her, and I(aha! This should be ‘me’ …Amy and me. But I am prone to correcting me to I because my mother was a math teacher and would always correct this thing…wrong)

But the rest of my email was just me sorting my day, because I feel comfortable with her. And that is how I know a good friend. Because I can just be myself. So below is what I wrote. Plus an addendum after I found a magical place to sit outside. And I kind of wrote on all the prompts for the week at once!))

💖💖💖

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out what I’m going to do when I grow up. This year I’ll be 45, and I still don’t know.

I’ve been writing my whole life, and community organizing/event coordinating for nearly 30 years. (I started when I was 16) And though I’ve grown to be very good at it…I think as I get older, I’d like something…quieter. 

I wonder if maybe I should be a potter. I’ve always loved pottery and it’s a soothing thing that I do. And every time I look for pottery classes…they are sold out. So if I became a potter, I could teach pottery classes. 

That is my brain all day. It goes “what about THIS!” And then I live that entire life in my imagination, and I can see all the flaws in my mind. The mess. The coordinating it would take. The cost of the kiln, and supplies.

And by the end of my imagining, I’ve talked myself out of it. 

(I’ve been crying all day due to overwhelm, which seems connected to my menstrual cycle and so I’ve come to my favourite sushi restaurant with the kindest server. She moved here a couple months after I did and we connected right away. She has a gentle and calming presence. And when I arrived here she said, “Wake! I’ve been hopping you’d come today and had just thought of you.” So I immediately felt like I was in the right place, and don’t feel like crying right now)

I think all this is why my mom was trying to find out what was “wrong” with her. And why she decided it was related to chemicals in her food. She wanted an explanation for why sometimes she just couldn’t handle the world. I’m grateful that I know I’m autistic and don’t have to blame myself because I “must have eaten something I’m not supposed to have”. 

(There are two very manly construction workers sitting near me talking loudly about the benefits of beards, the cost of modern day tacos, and how to grout a tub…do you have a hyper awareness of conversations around you, or can you block them out? Oh now they are making cute noises about a dog they love, and it’s endearing.)

Tomorrow my partner and I go on vacation. All by ourselves. And I’m cursing the fact that today my menstrual cycle started because I’m extra sensitive to everything. Thankfully my partner is the calmest human and is not affected by the strange weather that is my external emotional output. 

It’s funny. I don’t feel bad. Just overwhelmed. I wish I could wear a T-shirt that said “ignore that I’m crying, I’ve got this, you don’t have to worry”.

Today I was supposed to:

-register my new vanity plates 

-get an oil change

-do the laundry

I cried at the licensing place when the regular person I deal with wasn’t there. The older woman looked at my plate, which says “42 ORBS” and said “does this have some special significance?” And I cried. There was no short form was to say I’m a weird superstitions autistic weirdo with OCD and this plate is just going to make me feel better every day. So she got tears instead. 

Thankfully she didn’t even acknowledge that I was crying, but her demeanour softened, and she helped me with no further conversation.

But getting through that meant I needed to go for a coffee. 

And the coffee place was PACKED. And the people inside were not happy. And the person behind the counter was having a rough day. 

But even though she was also overwhelmed the person behind the counter acknowledged my overwhelm when I told her I’d take my coffee to go.

She said “it *is* a bit spicy in here, emotionally, I totally get it.” I blurted out I was autistic, and she gave me the “I’m neurodivergent too” response, and all of a sudden I felt less overwhelmed. And I tipped her big, cuz, that emotional labour she just did was worth more than the $2, and whatever they are paying her. 

And now I’m done lunch, and didn’t cry at all, and I picked up food for my pup. Bonus side quest accomplished! 

(I sent the email and now I’m sitting in my car and going to drive to see if I can figure out how to bring the overwhelm of my body and my emotions down)

I decided I cannot manage an oil change. I might just try again tomorrow. 

Instead I drove to a quiet place, and now I’m here, writing on this bench.

While walking here, on this new to me road, I called my best friend, whose birthday is today, and shared a portion of my walk with her. I miss her every day, but today, on her birthday, even more. I wish we were walking these woods together. I stopped to make stump art, and send her a silly picture of the face I created on the reminder of a tree once cut.

From the bench I can see two ducks floating on the river in front of me. One duck flying above quacking loudly as if to say “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here”.

To my left there is a squirrel chattering in the trees, and other unseen birds calling.

To my right there is an old cemetery, some of the gravestones look to be centuries old, but I have not approached them to check. The ground is damp. The air is oddly warm and full of micro water, not big enough to be bothersome, and rather refreshing.

The air smells of wet moss, and earth and something unidentifiable but sweet.

Already I can feel the calm. Crows are cawing and charming each other to other trees.

The wind just picked up and is blowing mist in my face. The sound of cars from across the water is like a distant reminder of people.

My glasses are now full of tiny, near imperceptible raindrops.

The ducks are collecting now, near me, and making a sound that sounds like comfortable chatter. There are five of them now.

I’m not sure how much time has passed. And that feels nice.

I think, it’s time to walk to my car through the forest and to head home for a warm cup of tea, some snuggles from my pup, and to show my partner these pictures below and tell them about my adventure.

I think I will take the week off writing here. I hope to have some stories to tell upon my return.

I hope your week is peppered with small beautiful moments.

Heart,

Wake

(The last picture in this gallery was hilariously the last of a series of pictures where I thought I was standing alone on a wooded path and then turned around to see a man on a bike waiting patiently for me to finish. I apologized as he rode past, but he did the gentlest thing and pretended that I didn’t exist at all. Or maybe I’m a ghost. Can you see this post?)

A walk through the forest