July 17th, 2020 – 660 – Day one-hundred-and-twenty-three

Well, it’s been weird. Apologies for the late post, a long day of work spilled into a long day of packing, and I only now finished up target. This is the last blog post I’ll be writing in this house for a long time; come 10:30am, I’m going home.

That’s such a strange thought. It’s going to take a while for the flat to feel like home again. That’s not just because I have a ton of stuff to put away either, or because I’ll have to rebuild the rowing machine again. It’s going to be a huge shift sleeping and waking up in a new place, even if it is my favourite home I’ve ever lived in.

Now’s not the time to unpick everything I’ve learned from this experience. Like editing a novel, I think I’ll need to put the notes and scribblings in a drawer for a while and get some perspective before revisiting. But I will say this: as a guy on the spectrum, the scenario that was 2020 until now – looming crisis, big upheaval, moving house, unfamiliar space and routines all shattered – was, worse than University. Sussex University still damaged me more because I stubbornly refused to give in for so long, but this did wear me down hard.

And well, I made it. I even got close to 2 books worth of writing out of it. So as much as I wish my mental health had stayed A+++, I’m proud that I kept my act together. Looking forward to rebuilding, and trying to stay optimistic about what lies ahead. Stay safe my imaginary readers.