October 15. We were at an expensive restaurant in Midtown. The waitress was robotic, a DJane mixed crazy music, and employees with plastic spiral cables on their ears walked around. I felt worse and worse. It was like every possible thought was being sucked out of me. Some kind of depression attack. I don’t think I have very much to say anyway. I’m an utterly boring person to talk to. But when my brain seems to freeze so completely, it’s especially scary because I can’t imagine ever getting out of it either. After all, it’s not in my control.

I ended up just looking at the table, and J got angry about it after we paid. At least that gave me something to work on. It helped me get out of the dead spot.

J is convinced that I am at least partially on the autistic spectrum. I don’t grasp certain social cues and, even when I do, I am unable to respond to them appropriately. However, I wish I could know my deficits better and be less clueless when these situations arise.

On my sofa, everything was well again quickly. But I was strangely exhausted by it all. It’s like having a seizure, only conscious.