It was bad enough at 21 to learn that my birth father was an alcoholic. You know, after the first suicide attempt.

I’m not going to claim alcoholism was directly related to how I turned out, given plenty of childhood abuse (not from my parents, thankfully).

I ran into a Dave’s Garage video a couple of days ago about how he learned in middle age that he was on the spectrum, leading me to look into online tests, as what he was describing sounded awfully familiar.

Let’s just say that after a day of research, while I rub my fingers back and forth along Snoopy’s ear, as I did as a toddler, it started looking more apparent that my poor (relatively) social skills may bring out the need for some red yarn.

I’m in the market for solutions, not further problems.