A Mid-Forties Butch Aspie
Makes Her Way
(blog originally kept at WrongPlanet.net)
The Road from Here to There - Part 6
Assessment in Progress -
The Third Appointment
Composed on November 15, 2011
Time for comfort food: runny instant mashed potatoes, made with all milk instead of water and milk, mixed with peas, and seasoned.
I don't think I'm as smart in my brown shirt today as I was in my purple shirt last week. I was right to think there would be harder stuff on the test today. Some of it wasn't bad, but I was awful at doing the math in my head. I wonder if the teachers I had in school would be embarrassed. At least I know I got some of the questions right. But as I got more stressed, I began to make stupid mistakes on harder questions. I could've gotten them right if I'd had more time or some paper. We only had a half hour, as usual, so it didn't matter that these specific questions weren't timed. I didn't completely fall apart, but I started apologizing, sweating, and putting my face in my hands as I messed up more and more. Well, now we know I'm not brilliant, I guess. Not exactly a surprise, but I really had hoped to do better. The only pleasant thing about that part of the test was when I joked, as the psychologist began the first word problem by saying, "If (forgot the guy's name) has eight blankets..." that the guy would be very warm. The psychologist seemed to think that was kind of funny.
Some stuff was as easy this week as a bunch of what we did last week (some really basic history and geography this time), though the fact that it was so easy doesn't make me feel any smarter for being able to handle it. But the math part came early on, and then there was another hard part near the end. More spatial relations, but in a different way this week. This was a tougher kind for me. Good thing there was another easy part at the end, or else I might've been too stressed to drive anywhere but off a bridge!
On the up side, I thought of a solution to last week's worry over the vocabulary part of the test. I wrote a note this morning. Here's what it said: "Someone can be flighty and make what turns out to be a practical decision by chance, on a whim, rather than by careful consideration. That person is not being pragmatic. If someone is level-headed and sensible, decisions will be made with reason and intellect. That is pragmatic. That is why my definition, "practical", had to be modified with "down-to-earth". I am sorry there was not enough time to explain my thinking behind what I said." When I went in, the first thing I did was give the psychologist my note. I didn't think it would change anything, but at least I felt satisfied that I could make myself clear that way. His next move was to actually pull out the folder and check how he'd marked my answer. (That was pretty cool of him!) Turns out he'd marked it as having been correct anyway. I may have answered other questions the same way, and I told him as much. But now it seems more likely that I was properly understood to begin with.
I'm a little frustrated over something else, though. At the end, I mentioned my little, almost constant habit of rubbing my tongue on the backs of my teeth. I told him I was concerned about whether or not he was aware that I did that sort of thing and explained that it was the thing that had made me consider the possibility that I might have Tourette's syndrome. That was something I'd mentioned on my intake questionnaire, so it seemed reasonable to bring it up. But all he said was not to worry about it. What does that mean? That he's sure I don't have Tourette's? That he doesn't care one way or the other about my habit at all? Or just that he doesn't want me to be upset because it happens?
I managed to get through all this, only to find that I have to wait two weeks, not just one, to get a final answer about things. When I went to see her during her lunch break again, to calm myself after yet another weekly collection of harrowing moments, my girlfriend said she thought the psychologist might have some vacation time saved up. So, maybe he's taking off the whole week of Thanksgiving. It's disappointing for me, but I can cope. After all, a guy needs a break from time to time, ya know? So, it's okay.
So, now it's been a few laps around the building with the love of my life, a stop to pick up a long sleeved sweat wicking shirt to wear under my other hiking clothes (in black and gray, which is not as sharp as the yellow and black I'd wanted but that they were out of, but still pretty nice), and a bit of sustenance while getting all this out in writing. I guess I'm feeling more ready now to put away thoughts of this for a while. Everything is done. There's nothing more I can do to help the situation. I can only wait, then show up in two weeks to find out the result of all this. I can always take up stressing and fretting again a day or two before I go back, if I feel I must.
My cat just got up on my lap to tell me I shouldn't still be doing all this silly typing stuff. I should be petting her instead. That's probably true. There's nothing like a good snuggle to set the world right again.
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A Mid-Forties Butch Aspie Makes Her Way
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