Powerless 

  

I took this shot with my phone this evening. I love how the poppies and campanula have moved in – uninvited but welcome nevertheless – and reminded me that I’m not the boss and that nature will take advantage wherever it can. 

I’m used to being out-of-control, so to speak. I’ve spent my life feeling a little as if things happen to me and I’m not really in charge of anything. Mostly I’m content about that. 

But today I’ve felt picked on. Things threw themselves at me – a mirror literally so, and my day was spent brushing myself off only to be hit by something else. 

We all have bad days, but an autistic bad day is like being bullied non-stop, punched repeatedly, and for me it’s as if I’ve had my hand/eye coordination removed and as if I’m operating a complicated puppet instead of my own body. Things go wrong again and again and again. I’m in a storm that no one else can see and I have to keep trying, keep pretending, keep picking myself up because the struggles and the battles are invisible and unmeasurable. 

It’s something I’ve always done. Always put up with. I wish it wasn’t so exhausting 

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