That feeling as an adult when those pieces start falling in place and things start making sense is sort of ... liberating, on one hand. But it's also kind of infuriating! I sometimes want to scream at the adults that were around when I was little and shake them, "Didn't you notice something was up?" I guess with kids, though, people see what they want to, and probably assume you'll grow out of it at some point.

I tend to over-explain everything. I dread being mis-interpreted so much I'll explain before anyone even asks. Too often, I'd wound up in situations where people intentionally misinterpreted me, and my adoptive mom has always been the sort to take everything personally.

I wonder if people sometimes take up crochet or stitching because they like the sensory feeling. The repetitive nature is probably pretty calming, too. Sometimes I'm surprised by an object that either feels great to touch and handle, or feels weird.