Well, I finally left the last educational establishment. In a couple of months I’ll get my no-doubt dubious final result, and take the rest of life from there. As I type, I’m sitting at the table in my friend’s flat. I’m living with him in a notoriously progressive city, which means (HOORAY!) I can go for a walk without being stared at too much, and nobody has vomited on seeing the production of my documentation thus far. I’m living with him while I work a temporary job at the same place as him. The job is mostly just assisting someone with mobility issues with daily tasks that they don’t have the necessary adaptive tech to do themselves yet. It’s long hours, and quite tiring, but the person we work for is patient with me while I get to grips with the various bits of equipment, and how to be present to assist when needed, but not so present that I end up getting in the way when it comes to tasks that can be done without assistance. It’s made me even more aware of how much the Tories have fucked everyone over. It’s absurd what doesn’t get funded, and what the person we work for has to organise WITHOUT help from the council or a dedicated manager or whoever, such as making rotas for workers and ensuring people get paid on time, etc. All at the same time as studying, campaigning for disability rights, dealing with me looming in to give reminders about medication breaks and trying not to get tangled in the wires when I change the water machine. They’re responsible for training us too, which is scary for both parties, because most people don’t get seen by the boss while they’re still learning a task. Anyway, it’s not a bad gig (touch wood), and it’s good to be in a city.
Living with my friend after a year entirely alone is proving an adjustment for both of us. We don’t have much space in the apartment, and we both have an unfortunate habit of not saying when something is bothering us. So…we’re both in the dark about what the other wants and needs. Well, that’s how I feel anyway. I’m constantly afraid that I’m getting in his way, or that my stuff is in the wrong spot, or that I’m talking too much and invading his personal sanctuary. But I don’t feel able to speak up about my worries and ask for reassurance. I feel like what he likes about me is that I stfu and don’t constantly ask him if he minds me being here, or insisting on over-emotional talks where we pour out our hippy sentiments about how we FEEL about whatever. So I’m kind of…stressed. And in my desire to not be clingy and forward, I think I’m coming across as slightly pissed off with him. Most likely, he hasn’t noticed a thing, and thinks everything’s fine. And maybe it is. But I’m not good at things like, the faces people do (unless they’re fairly extreme faces), or picking up on things like awkwardness or boredom, so if someone doesn’t specifically say to me that they’re fine and dandy and thrilled I’m here, then I sort of wander around in a nervous state of purgatory with no idea how things are. Our hours mean we only really see each other a few hours a week anyway, and the thought of using up that time for serious chat when we’re both shattered or trying to get ready for work is not ideal. Does anyone have any advice? Because, if this was a romantic relationship, for some reason I think i’d be easy to bring it up because that’s what people do in a romantic context, they give and take and check-in regularly that everything’s good. Whereas this is a friendship, so it feels like society expects you to read each others’ mind and just smile and romp about drinking lager or whatever the hell normal people do.
Anyway, I’m rambling, I’m gross, and I need a wash. I’ll try and scribble more frequently now that my course is done, and let you know what I’m up to. Cheers!
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