Status: The big crash came last night, though it mostly subsided by this afternoon. I’m reluctant to assign a cause: could have been Sunday’s allotmenteering, could have been the psychotherapy. Could even have been the rejection I got from the art thing I applied for. That was a funny one as I really wasn’t expecting to get it and had only really applied to get some practice at interacting with the world again. If I’m honest I was relieved when I was turned down. But it definitely hit me in a way I wasn’t happy with. Perhaps it dragged up a bunch of feelings from when I burned out on being an artist, prior to my autism diagnosis. I had this sense that I just didn’t know what anyone wanted from me or how I should be interacting with this opaque world. To be fair that’s not exclusive to the art world — I’ve had that all my life, and in many ways it led me to developing an art practice — but it was the last sphere to explicitly make me feel like that. It reminded me that, pre-pandemic, I…
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