Accidental Homesteader

It’s been a rough bit of time. In the last year and change I started what I thought was a my dream job. Flamed out at my dream job.

Then I went back to my old job, but we had since lost our headcount for it, so I went back as a contractor for a maximum of six months. After six months, my team got a very rare extension since we were working on a big project. But we each had to have two months off before the end of the year. So as time was ticking down on my eight-week break, I grew increasingly worried.

We sort of played it like Milton from Office Space. I would keep coming to work, and they’d keep on paying me until one or more of us got in trouble. I was applying for permanent roles, and didn’t get the first one, the good news was that I got the next one. So the long year of being under-employed (again) was over.

The husband is thriving at his new university. It’s a private school, so folks have to affirmatively want to go to college if they go there, because it ain’t cheap. He has great colleagues and good students.

In other fun news, my neurodiversity has gone from “quirky” to “presumptive.” After flaming out at the job, I figured I’d see what I needed to work on for myself. This led to “hey, I think you’re ADHD,” which led to “yeah, you’re probably autistic, too.” This is from a professional that I pay for therapy services, so I tend to believe them.

But given *gestures vaguely towards everything, then explicitly at RFK* I don’t have a formal diagnosis. But oh my god it explains so much! Like as in a psychiatrist could look through this blog and figure it out.

I figure I have been masking so long and so well that it took something significant to break down. The combination of COVID, breaking my leg and ankle, and menopause broke me, and I am fresh out of bothers.

But we are getting to the other side and hoping things will start to improve.

For now, I have a job that pays well and eleven of the cutest goats in the world. Fern concurs.