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Photo by Bogomil Mihaylov / Unsplash

I miss everyone.

I didn’t expect my daughter’s birthday to be my last day of work.

I didn’t expect a new job would be so challenging to secure.

I’m supposed to be the provider.

I was so grateful for my job I could work from home. It still feels recent to me that I’m unfolding layers of challenges attributed to autism spectrum disorder, but ā€˜work from home’ had always been the dream.

I get my work ethic from my dad, I’m sure. I bring my best to everything and create efficiency where it is to be had, but in search of financial stability and job hunting, I feel overlooked and disregarded.

I’m in shock and disbelief; it has perhaps driven me to madness as I am now in pursuit of monetizing this blog and generating income through Patreon with a niche community hub.

I solved a self-hosting mystery and I get to place that victory in my pocket, but I need help.

I’m trying to convince myself that that help is out there. I’m trying to convince myself that people are out there who would be proud to contribute, not just to my well-being, but to what I’m building.

Rent is due. My unemployment benefits are ending and moving back in with my parents feels like a nuclear option. There’s 11 people in that house and one of them doesn’t like to take his medicine.

My life has completely flipped on its head and I’ve been cornered into a leap of faith.

It’s disorienting and uncomfortable, but maybe this is one of those things where, one day, I’ll look back and realize that all of it was for the best and the universe does have my back. Do people still believe in that kind of thing?

My job tonight is to convince myself that I might not be excluded from the power of crowdfunding. I’m not someone who’s here on this earth to be overlooked. I’m someone who will honor and respect the energy behind anyone’s contributions, financial and otherwise.

But it’s so embarrassing to feel like, ā€œhave I just been in denial telling myself that things would work out since last May?ā€ Was it an excuse to make sure I could be home for my daughter?

We’re getting David to a neurologist in a couple weeks. Maybe we’ll learn something that bolsters my confidence in leaving him alone with her, but I think she needs us both.

It all feels so delicate.

I never wanted kids.

I’m the oldest of my mom’s 10 and never knew what autism was; I just knew that I was miserable in the chaos and… neglect, honestly. Not that it’s CPS-worthy, but I’m someone who’s been deeply wounded drowning in my own emotional depth alongside a world that doesn’t value sensitivity.

I never wanted kids because I knew I’d cry everyday and they were going to see it and they weren’t going to understand why.

I’m already sorry to her for that.

And I’m sorry to the ā€œworld out thereā€ who seemingly won’t take me back for however I might be ā€œnot good enoughā€ to fit back in, like my place in the workforce in the first place was a fluke and stroke of luck. I won’t express in detail the weight of this embarrassment.

I’m building in a scale I can sustain while dreaming of bigger things, still. Because under all this weight, I’m still dreaming. I’m still envisioning the paths to inclusivity, equality, and clarity because for much longer than I’ve been a mom, I’ve been an older sister holding her eyes open to all the world and the ways it’s run, worried by systemic failure while attempting to honor how I’ve been taught not to complain without presenting solutions.

I don’t want to feel silenced anymore.

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