Under the bed

I'm visiting Leigh at her new apartment on campus yesterday and today. Well, it was just supposed to be yesterday, but I really, really wanted to go to church last night and it was easier to stay the night.

So I got up early yesterday morning (7:30 A.M.) and Leigh rolled out of bed. Good thing I brought coffee. We hung around for a little bit, then as her roommates got back from church, we made omelets and tater tots for brunch in their new apartment. Several of their friends from a downstairs apartment also trickled in, and we fed them too. I hugged people I hadn't seen also summer. I talked about work. I talked about Disney World. I talked about other peoples' work. I talked about cats. Am I allowed to talk about cats? Oh well. It hit me as they started to leave how overwhelmed I was. No more talking, please. I needed to get out of there. We took a walk to upper campus and visited a friend of our in her dorm room. We got back, and that's when I dove under Leigh's lofted bed. It's the perfect height to sit under. I spread my sleeping bag and stretched out with my computer... I couldn't have felt safer, more shut off from the world while still able to see what was going on in the apartment. I never wanted to come out.

We made a wonderful dinner of tostados then hurried off to church. I love this Anglican church because it uses liturgy, which so appeals to the part of me that loves repetition and familiarity. Hearing the same words each time and being able to read them in the bulletin, rather than having to rely on my faulty auditory processing, is amazing. After church, we had a chat with the pastor about autism and Christianity (more on that later). We had to deal with talking to some people we didn't know, and I got pushed pretty close to the edge of what I could handle. I wanted to go back under the bed, but we had places to be and a friend to see!

We stopped at a friend's apartment. Fortunately, this friend is completely okay with me being me. I knew it was okay if I wasn't completely engaged, and I was so glad for that, because right then, I wasn't. They mostly talked and I jumped in when I could. I told Leigh when I really needed to leave, and we did.

I slept under the bed.

I feel like I've gotten out of practice. All summer, I've only had my mom. I came back here, and all the social demands were a little too much. Should I not hide under the bed? Should I push myself? Under the bed saved me from any total melt downs, but I almost lost it several times. It seems like when I get a break from having to push myself, I forget how to. Is that good or bad? I'm not sure.