I used to think that the way my relationship came apart with Dana was due to me and me alone. It’s taken me a very long time to realize that no one carries a hundred percent of the blame for anything. That’s the hardest time in my life I’ve had to say goodbye to, because it was all encompassing. There is nothing left, and I am empty. I don’t love Dana, but I care that she’s okay after the fallout. It’s not wrong to want to know that someone has recovered when you’ve mistreated them. It is not wrong to know if there is something worth rekindling later in life (not with Dana, with the friends I got through her. Dana is a no-fly zone because our relationship ended with my glasses smashed into my face. I only let that happen once; even though Dana was my sweetheart, statistics don’t lie and I didn’t want to be that stupid woman who won’t leave in the future. It took a long time to get there.).

We can talk about my emotional affair with Supergrover all you want because I have never claimed that I am an innocent party in our destruction. Let me be clear again that I was the only one that struggled with romantic feelings for both of them, and not having any background at poly, managed to freak them both out at once. It was special. My best answer was “Supergrover is not interested in me, and if she was, that would be a threat. This is okay because it’ll never go anywhere.” It did go somewhere. We were blissfully happy in our little bubble chatting about anything and everything while Dana had no reason to be jealous. She wouldn’t let the relationship settle. If anything, she’d gotten a promotion and I needed a new best friend. When I married Dana, there was a hole in my life- the woman who talked shit about Dana with me so I could be a better person while also getting my feelings out.

My sister-in-law got it. Dana didn’t got it. That a crush lasted a little while, love of Supergrover was forever and those were two separate things. Who among us hasn’t had Schrödinger’s feelings for a friend while you figure it all out? I was angry and mean trying to push her away and she was angry and mean because she wouldn’t let me get away with isolating. This was annoying and necessary, something my mother did to me all the time and I hated her for it. “Just let me be” while also desperately needing someone with whom to talk it all out. You mean someone will check on me? I don’t have to check on myself all the time? I wasn’t a good friend, and I was fired for cause. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t remember that time in my life fondly because there were so many lessons that propelled me to today’s date.

Today, I get to have conversations like “Pippi Longstocking and Moomin are both turning 80 this year. I’m reaching out to all my artists because I could do it with AI but it would suck. I want a short on this.” Someone actually in the entertainment industry had the presence of mind to say “run it by Oy, Ltd (Moomin owners) and Astrid Lindgren (Pippi owners) first.” He did the same thing on the Ramona movie.

I want to go a new direction with Ramona because I don’t think Cleary noticed things about herself that she put into Ramona. She’s a combination of Harriet the Spy and Brené Brown. Her pattern recognition is picking up people’s emotions. This is especially evident in “Ramona and Her Mother,” “Ramona and Her Father,” and “Ramona and Beezus.” Each is an exploration of how she tries to fit in with her family, knowing she is the bookworm and doesn’t even care about being popular like Beezus. I have a feeling this continued because ignoring popular kids is the skill of every Ramona. Her inner monologue is so fine-tuned that you can tell she’s social masking a lot of the time before we knew what ADHD and Autism looked like in women and girls. Perhaps even Cleary was autistic and writing about her own experiences as a neurodivergent child. It doesn’t matter which one you have- some ADHD is debilitating and autism isn’t that bad, sometimes it’s the other way around.

The first diagnosis in medicine is always correct.

It depends.

I have run this by a doctor, a surgeon, and a Naval “Devil Dog” embedded with a team of Marines. All of them have said this is correct, except I think said Head Medic II was akin to “sure as shit.” From all of them, I got the standard compliment you give a doctor when they catch a fascinoma (case they’ve never seen before, like prima facie in law); “good pickup.” I don’t pick things out of nowhere. I have the same kind of pattern recognition House does and I’m just as rude about it (to most people…. to me I am factual and clinically separated because we are talking about issues, not people). I also know what’s above my pay grade and what’s not. And in fact, I have a good redirect I keep in my back pocket to keep people from bothering me, because I wear scrubs as pajamas and run into the neighbors.

Woman comes up with a very ugly rash on her arm and asks me about it. I’ll tell you what happened and then I’ll tell you why I’m a dermatologist. I can make you one by the end:

Ma’am, I’m not an MD. I’m just a medical assistant and it’s been a while since I’ve worked professionally. But what I do know is that you need to call your doctor immediately because you have a severe case of erythema nodosum.

Here’s what I actually said:

I’m not a doctor and I don’t know what the hell it is, so call your PCP/GP and tell them that you have little red bumps of unknown origin. That’s as good as it gets from me, dawg.

That being said, I was made a dermatologist by my rheumatologist stepmother, and I am an expert. Like, I’m the best. Just ask me. Here is why you, too, can be a dermatologist by the end of this article (not really…. please).

1. If it’s wet, dry it.
2. If it’s dry, wet it.
3. If it’s not on steroids, put it on.
4. If it’s on steroids, take it off.
5. If you know what it is, don’t touch it.
6. If you don’t know what it is, for God’s sakes don’t touch it.

This works for everything from horses to zebras…. to use a House reference that is actually a medical axiom…. never go looking for zebras because it’s usually a horse. But then you have doctors like House who get all the zebras in a hospital at once. It’s an impossible job, and it pays less than a surgeon because medicine pays you to cut. You don’t make money until you have a procedure. In rheumatology, these are things like infusing patients with immunoglobulins and Disease Modifying and Reducing Drugs (DMARDs). Lupus (really) comes with all of that and more, like ridiculously high amounts of Non-Steroidal Anti-inflammatory Drugs (NSAIDs), and when that fails, Oxycodone and Methodone.

You have your frequent fliers, but most of the time people are in so much pain that they keep their meds under lock and key, sometimes too weak to swallow them. Injections are your friend, and I wish my psychiatric medications came in syringes I could plunge into my leg every morning for this reason. I have a Pavlovian response to pills and that is the vomit comet.

All of these things make me feel like more of a child than I really am, because who can realistically throw up at the office or into a trash can in a kitchen every single day? Even if I could, that’s “marked as a weirdo” on day one and “something is wrong with her” on day three. I assure you that something is most definitely wrong with me, but the vomit comet is just a medication side effect. I also had a “suuri kuppia kahvia, mustaa” (large coffee, black), which might have something to do with it. I needed the extra push today, so I ordered a large coffee, two 2L bottles of Diet Pepsi, and made sure to refill the cold brew for tomorrow morning. After I am done writing, I am done thinking. It’s time to put on my headphones and zone out, cleaning and de-sanitizing my apartment. It won’t take too long as I just have to get out the trash and vacuum/steam clean. The hard part is turning off my brain, so I carry a notebook and a pencil.

There’s no way I listen to any artist without having thoughts.

Because Swedes and Finns like heavy metal (or some do), I want to recommend an album to John and Thunder Bird. They might like it, they might hate it. But it’s various artists like Serge Tankian (System of a Down) mixed with Bird (Charlie Parker), called “Bird Up.” It’s a hard listen that twists your brain, but it’s the kind of music I need right now. It takes everything up and I cannot think. Music theory is like math. I cannot do anything except sit there when I’m analyzing chords, but I’ve managed to learn to clean while I’m doing it. It’s one of the few things I can multitask. I can also listen to murder podcasts with the rest of the basic bitches, but I cannot listen to political comedy without wanting to stop and write down absolutely everything. I do not care about murder.

My apologies if I sounded mean to basic bitches. As a consolation prize, I will tell you that I am am nonbinary and the last person you would think of when you think of the classic “Karen” image. Supergrover is a Karen on toast when she’s social masking……………….. but she hates pumpkin spice lattes. I like them. I have been smart enough not to tell her.

Until now.

I have no doubt she still likes me as a writer and entertaining her is a goal.

God bless the czar, but keep him very far from us.

This is the blessing I choose to send- God go with her because I can’t. I fell too far too fast to come back up for air. I loved everything about her; everything that came with her was the problem. I would say the same about myself. Once she was my actual friend and not just my fan things went to hell in a handbasket. She tried to prevent it, but I was emotionally unregulated, not her.

Dana had just gotten a DUI. My marriage was taking a toll on me because I didn’t sign up to be Dana’s chauffer for three months and I didn’t sign up to worry about her that long, that hard either. So, it was natural that I was going to other people for emotional support and not a surprise that I caught feelings because I was vulnerable enough to let them get to me…. which they couldn’t have had I not been emotionally laden already. I don’t have any excuses for what I’ve done, I only have context and explanation. I think that neurotypical people are lost in the thought that I am trying to blame other people for my problems rather than trying to figure out what’s mine and what’s not. There are two problems with this:

1. I resolve my issues, they don’t resolve their issues with me.
2. If I feel the need to process something before a discussion, it is not me independently exploring how I feel. The goalposts move from actually addressing the problem to the fact that they’re embarrassed about how they acted. This is never their modus operandi, ever, because it’s a lot easier to rip me a new one than to get vulnerable and apologize.

to “I don’t have any culpability in our problem at all because you posted about it.” Exploring my problems on my own becomes “you’re out to get me” even when I’ve said things are clearly not that way. Supergrover has emotionally beaten me up for years over the things I’ve published that “make her look like a villain,” meanwhile every friend I have says that I’m way, way too hard on myself.

Part of this is true; part of this is that I haven’t told her story. That’s her story to tell, and you might start telling her to stop being so hard on herself, too…. because that’s how I feel. It was hard watching her self-destruct in front of me because she thought I expected so much and held herself to impossible standards. How do I know this? She told me that’s what she was doing and that two things were true:

In the moment, she was really mad.

Time goes by, and I “have hit the nail on the head.”

I am alternately the best and worst writer ever to her, when she’s the best and the worst writer to me. We could have had a real future with real money on the table because she likes writing children’s literature as much as I do. I’m working on several projects she’d be perfect for, and it is her choice not to be in my life until she realizes on her own what healthy love looks like. I think she thought that I wanted this toxic dumpster fire, and that’s not true. I gave up when cleaning it up failed year after year.

I have standards for friendship that my friends surpass. I’m not looking for friends, I’m looking for Companions.

I watch “Doctor Who.” I have standards.