My favorite time of the week used to be Friday at 4PM.
After a hard week at work, there was heady sense of freedom in the knowledge that I had the next to days to use as I saw fit. Not days where I am obliged to sit and work and juggle. But days that were mine.
I hate Fridays now.
Instead of nestling under a warm blanket, playing rain sounds, and losing myself in something, I feel panicked. It’s as if I spent all week working as hard as I could to keep it all together and when I finally settle down, there’s a wave that crashes over me.
I cry every Friday at 4PM.
I always try to knock myself out as soon as possible. Chamomile, or valerian, or melatonin. Anything to induce sleep after the sun sets.
Because I don’t want to be awake on Fridays at 4PM.
Some people say that autistic people shut down to protect their nervous system. I never shut down. I cry, and feel angry and grit my teeth and melt down but I never shut down. And even when I am sick, my treacherous body is moving before I’ve kicked it. So instead of shutting down, I weather the violence of a bad week coming all at once.
Always on Friday, at 4PM