I don't want to in Each Day

I’m here because my mood is telling me to write, but my brain is being uncooperative. I opened this page, saw I had a FB notification, went to check it, fiddled around on FB, remembered I was supposed to be writing, came back to this page, stared at is while thinking about today, remembered I’m re-evaluating my knitting as a viable hobby, went on ravelry, surfed around there before remembering, again, that I’m supposed to be writing…
And I just got sucked into FB again…

And my legs are being restless assholes.

Today I went to Lily’s birthday party, it was BYOP(izza), and I got a cheese pizza from Pizza Hut because M hates Pizza Hut and I only get to enjoy it when we’re not eating together. I gave her a quality skein of yarn (she said no gifts, but our little group re-gifted things of ours we thought she’d like), and I also baked her birthday cake. It was devil’s food cake with a chocolate mousse frosting. I definitely ate at least one big spoonful of the mousse during assembly. It was enjoyed by all.
I was sitting with Mandy, and another person sat with us and was talking about her elderly cat. And this is to say nothing of them and their conversation skills, but only my state of mind, but I really struggled. At first I wanted to get involved in the conversation, but when I couldn’t organically engage - without forcing my way in - the effort to remain engaged was too much and I started to withdraw. I felt exhausted all of a sudden.
I’m guessing many introverts can relate to these feelings.
It got worse before it got better, hell, I’m not sure it has gotten better, yet.
I called mom, who I’ve been trying to reach, and my sister answered. It was lovely to talk to her but the phone kept getting staticky, and it was irritating me. Then when I got home M had locked the front door. My hands were full, pizza box and cake platter and craft bag, so I kicked the door, forgetting which shoes I was wearing, and basically repeatedly stubbed my toe (my toes are hypersensitive), so then I was in pain and pissed. I came in, dropped my stuff on the table, went to walk into the living room to hang out with M, shouldered the cat tree he put in the doorway, and noped out of all of it and went to sulk in the reading room.

I hate it though. It makes me feel like I’m broken. This is the part of me that changed the most post-covid. The last time I talked about this to Tina, I was talking about the pull between M and my friends, how I can’t fathom having the social life I had pre-covid. She asked me why I had to “change back”, and I couldn’t give her a good answer, so we sort of reached the conclusion that I am not worse, just different.
But this is worse. The hardline inflexibility that comes out in me in these moments is jarring. I don’t know what would happen if I was pressed, while feeling like this. It has not happened at work, not like this anyway. Having to shut up doesn’t have or take the same energy as needing to shut up. And by needing to shut up I mean being physically unable to speak. This seems to be happening to me more, rather then less. It’s another thing that points me towards autism.

Anyway, it’s late. I’ve sufficiently passed the evening to a respectable bedtime, and now I want to sleep.