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Flinging open windows

I can shut out traffic but I have to open up to all the other noises and sights. So I fling open the windows and pay attention.
I had to tear myself away from modern, western humanity again…The media, social media, judgements, the assumptions; the doctrines people spout about the way to be a good human, a good person, a good member of society. Life is so very short and I’m sure we’re living it so very wrong right now and teaching our children to live it the wrong way too. All this crazy talk about hard work and who deserves what and who doesn’t. 

I have to remind myself daily that I’m a good person, a nice person – even if I’m not living or behaving in the ways we’ve currently become fixed. I have to remind myself daily of what I can do, should do and need to do on my own terms. Not because I “deserve” it or “because I’m worth it” but because it’s worth it.  But it doesn’t stop me going crazy with worry watching the way others think the world works, and questioning again and again Why? 

So here I am shutting out what hurts my heart and my sense of self and a meaningful life and what I can’t control, and instead opening up to what I don’t need to control, what I don’t want to control. 

I look out in order to step out of my anxiety. Windows are my saviour.

The breeze whips damp air up from a ground still gentle from the months of sun. A soft day today, I think. 

The white cat on the brow of the slope hunts again. I often wonder about the successes of something so visible, so bright. I amuse myself by imagining him going home empty-handed again and shrugging apologetically at his family. 

Pigeons and doves sit and rumble rhythmically together on the long slow slope of the neighbour’s garage roof while in the distance the seagulls’ circular throat warbles fade and return. Nearby a robin pips loudly – probably busy dragging grubs from the soft wet earth. 

I decide what to focus on and what to ignore. The traffic comes and goes out of sight. It has nothing to do with me. So many other bird songs. I don’t know what they are. I wish I did. Why not make the time, take the time to learn them? But who does that these days? 

Who cares about things that don’t pay? 

Despite my determination all the time pressing at me from behind is artificial time passing and waving its expectations at me. I walk away from the window and try to decide what I should do next. 

Autonomy is quite an achievement. Real autonomy, I mean… Does it even exist? 

I notice while writing this on an app that I cannot see the time. Momentarily I panic about productivity, expectation and routine. What is the time? How much of it have I wasted? 

Yoga would help. But do I have time? Is it necessary? Is it worth it? 
I should… I ought to… I have to… It’s time I was… I need to… Where do living, existing, working, earning  fit into “worthwhile”? Why do we give money so much credence? How did we let it get to this impossible life of choices based on earnings and worth based on work? Why should we earn rights when others are born with them?  Why are we so very stuck in structures that make us ill? 

Another breath of autumn air, I think. 

There’s no time for yoga now 

Inconveniently Alright

When I’m here BEING ME, doing what gives me PEACE:

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– challenging myself, thinking, doing, exploring, observing, taking note, playing music, sometimes writing, sometimes not, feeling NORMAL.
When I’m going from one task to another, being PRODUCTIVE, being USEFUL, finding FULFILLMENT.
When the day runs smooth and the hours don’t gallop or groan.
When nothing seems or feels WEIRD or DIFFICULT or TOO MUCH.
When I have CHOICES and FREEDOM and I can BREATHE…

Then.

Then I think WHAT DISORDERS?
No – really – WHAT DISORDERS?
What do they MEAN?

What’s WRONG?
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What IS wrong?

What is all the FUSS?

I’m okay. I really am.

Why is this world designed for people to NOT be THEMSELVES?
For ALL KINDS of people to NOT FIT?
For people to HURT?

Why would we rather fill the world with words like DISORDER
And BROKEN
And WRONG
Than DIVERSITY?

It is
The way
It is
– they say

But it’s not JUST the way it is.
It doesn’t HAVE to be so.

It’s only the way we’re LETTING it be.
The way we MADE it be
And dressing it up as NECESSARY
Instead of letting people BE.

It’s INCONVENIENT having to think around me.
And TOO SCARY to imagine I might be RIGHT.

So, for now, I am DISORDERED
TIRED from making myself fit where I don’t
When I DO KNOW where I DO fit

I just KNOW
I’m okay. I really am
And life’s about VARIETY
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Well it’s supposed to be anyway


Clean Slate

The worst thing about autism is the problem of where to go with feelings, with emotions. They don’t go away or wear out or get overtaken by something else. They circle, they plague, they start fires and they burn. 
Things hurt so badly and burn so strongly that they overwhelm. 

Everything is about other people and yet they’ll never know or believe that. They can’t see me acting in the way they expect at the moment they expect it. I’m always trying to get my actions to keep up with my reactions but I know I’m out-of-time and for that reason I’m failing. 

I’ve realised today that the reason I don’t form many life-long friendships is that I simply don’t trust myself to get it right. I’m inconsistent and unreliable. And I cannot change that. And my low self-esteem means I see every failure as my fault. And every failure haunts for forever. It’s easier not to bother however much I like someone. I stack up my failures like a brick wall.

A clean slate is an impossible metaphor for me. Nothing ever goes away. I punish myself for forever. I wonder if that is why the “meltdown” phenomenon is such an autistic thing. If we can’t clear the decks, wipe that slate clean; if we can’t ever bring about that what’s done is done/ fresh start feeling, then maybe a feeling of setting fire to what’s troubling us is the only way to go. 

It lets off steam, it wears me out but it never fixes anything, 

 Good god, I feel so fragile and incompetent right now. 

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