Sympathies. I am feeling quite fragile, too, just now: worried about my elderly father's health; worried about the political situation; worrying about my job (which is about to end). I have been getting a lot of benefit from attending a post-diagnostic group for adult female autists, though - just being with other people to whom I don't need to explain myself; my own tribe, with whom I can relax. I've also been taking refuge in favourite fandoms. That's what my North Tower is: a refuge in my imagination, derived from a favourite book, alongside a beloved (and very Aspie) character.
I understand how you feel - I had both parents die within 5 weeks of each other and facing very difficult financial straits at the time. My form of Inner North Tower is a peaceful teashop that I went to in Shang Hai. Sometimes, I locate that inner space to get away from stressful factors.
At the moment, it is the bone-shaking 8am start of the diggers and drillers outside my humble abode, alongside other crashing and banging that brings me down. I can only leave the building via the backdoor (which thankfully backs on a right-of-way path), which makes me feel hemmed in. That and next door, not content with the cacophony out front, is also drilling and buzz-sawing. They also spent an infuriating 30 minutes continually squaking large lumps of polystyrene.
For someone with sharp hearing, I am climbing the walls!!!
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I am feeling quite fragile, too, just now: worried about my elderly father's health; worried about the political situation; worrying about my job (which is about to end). I have been getting a lot of benefit from attending a post-diagnostic group for adult female autists, though - just being with other people to whom I don't need to explain myself; my own tribe, with whom I can relax. I've also been taking refuge in favourite fandoms. That's what my North Tower is: a refuge in my imagination, derived from a favourite book, alongside a beloved (and very Aspie) character.
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At the moment, it is the bone-shaking 8am start of the diggers and drillers outside my humble abode, alongside other crashing and banging that brings me down. I can only leave the building via the backdoor (which thankfully backs on a right-of-way path), which makes me feel hemmed in. That and next door, not content with the cacophony out front, is also drilling and buzz-sawing. They also spent an infuriating 30 minutes continually squaking large lumps of polystyrene.
For someone with sharp hearing, I am climbing the walls!!!
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