Take Me as I am

My experience as someone ‘other’ I’ve not often known how to catalog. From an early age, I’ve been drawn to books, music, words, encyclopedias, dictionaries, prose, poetry, lyrics, and the like.

I’ve been called ‘brave’ and ‘full of poise’ don’t mind her she’s ‘honest to a fault.’ I still find errors within myself. struggling with a stereotypical, skewed, distorted, and pessimistic view of who I am. I place little value because of painful experiences in my formative years when I felt free to be who I was. These negative views were expressed by my peers, church friends, and family. Not everyone was this mean or absentminded.

I need to make space to tell this story as a girl, teen, and woman with autism. I’m not someone who finds things wrong with other people ironically. Still learning how to navigate this neurotypical world for better and oftentimes worse. Still, I must at least try to reach out halfway. How will others understand if I don’t say anything? How can I expect understanding if I assume others will innately ‘get’ the way I operate? They won’t, and that does them a disservice.

Misplaced little girl, finding beauty in things others found mundane, macabre, weird, and strange. Not reacting to other females my age the way most learning ‘social graces’ would. Little China doll who’d sit too close to someone if I wanted to befriend them. Not knowing when to stop talking about my fixations and intuitively when to ask of theirs.

Some peers had the good nature to smile and nod or outright tell me ‘let’s talk about what I’m interested in now.’ I respected that and was not offended because it was a clear signal to listen to them. Many painful experiences I now see as hazing by cruel individuals who didn’t understand me nor want to.

My genuine friends were wheelchair-bound, down syndrome, and classically autistic ‘short bus kids.’ Others saw them as defective and broken throwaways. This naturally lead to ‘What is she? Perhaps they saw this as a threat? Most things that don’t make sense to growing humans until later adulthood are stigmatized, marginalized, and labeled to better deal with the growing pains and the path of least resistance.

I’ve been asked ‘what are you?’ denying personhood as a thing not worthy of ‘who are you?’ or better ‘how are you?’ Yet still, here I am attempting to make sense of myself then and now. To give oxygen, to investigate all my inexperience. The joyful, dangerous, disappointing, life-giving, and milestones throughout autism thus far.

Choosing not to look through rose or gray-tented glasses but honest lenses, digging deep within my soul, asking the hard questions but also asking those who’ve known me my entire life. What they saw and lived. Taking their point of view into my narrative creates a fuller picture.

Each hopefully in time, will allow me to exist as I rightfully am.

Forged

1 Corinthians 1:26-29 For you see your calling, brethren, that not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called. But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the mighty things; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence.

From the Bible


She reached for the stars she couldn’t find. Greg’s absence left her far behind. A breaking point had come and gone. Many sleepless nights. Toss over, restless one. Christmas songs aren’t meek or mild. Stuck within her childhood ‘Home’ Autism’s scar alone. She’s so proud of her younger brother, Now on His hand an infinity band. She admires her sister, who finished her degree. Raised two children despite her grief. How strong were her parents, to endure autism’s shame? Burns mar and scar masking her pain. Few see her translucent wheelchair, she appears OK why should they care? Yet at her core, an infinity stone. Forged from pressure, formed alone.

How Wide is Your Love?

Thank you so much, Lord. Help me keep a spirit and outlook of praise while my dad plays the news 24/7. Father God, I choose to bless my dad and encourage his heart. Help me God, I’m trying to maintain a heart of thankfulness and praise amid the pain.

I hear Your heart Hannah, I will help you. I love you so much. Shine My Peace that passes earthly understanding. Your soul needs Me, come into My Rest, Into my Peace. Take upon yourself my yoke which is light, and not burdensome.

How will they know My Children?

God quietly whispers this question to the Hearts of those who will listen and obey.

My heart is breaking as I remember how it used to be: I walked among the crowds of worshipers, leading a great procession to the House of Jesus, singing and giving thanks amid the sound of a great celebration! Psalms 42:4

Paper Pants

It’s OK to have black pants with a red tie,
It’s OK to crawl and scream out, ADONAI!

It’s OK to be held and yell out God’s Name.
It’s OK because He’s felt the same.

He’s been betrayed, bruised and cast aside.
At His lowest He was thrice denied.

He was counted among the poor, lost and broken.
As He hung on the Cross, His Life our Token.

To the one criminal who cursed God and died,
And the other who was with Him in Paradise.

Ages have passed and nothing’s changed,
Some still choose to curse His Name.

But sister nightbirde whispered in my ear,
“God’s on the bathroom floor, and to the broken draws near.”

In memory of nightbirde and inspired by my recent 72 hour hospital stay.

I Will Use My Voice

My bodies autonomy isn’t your commodity.

Get your hands off my kids, data gained mind biz.

‘Yuck-in’ shoehorned your way in,

My ‘Vote’ didn’t count, your ‘promises’ you flout.

Disregarding the discord your ‘Marshall Plan’ will cause.

VCHEW’ing out the righteous, all to Carlyle’s gaping maw.

Fool’s gold you’ve sold for souls,

Gutters blood of innocence untold.

Fuhrer’s emblem around your neck,

or is that fury’s ‘placebo effect?’

‘Devils that are’ don’t speak for me!

You and your kind, the ‘powers that be.’

Lioness of Judea within me ROARS,

Tiptoe tulips, your own traps fall sore.

Like it or not, My Redeemer LIVES

Unto Him Alone, my praise I give!

Every knee WILL bow and tongue confess,

From Atheist to Muslim with all the rest.

Governors and Rulers will crawl to God’s Throne.

Each tribute offered unto Him Alone.

Thanks Anyway, Circler Reasoning

Muzzled tight upon my face, replaced with known “common grace.”

Tossing aside your empty beer, not as “compassionate” as you appear.

Used excuses “got through to you.”

Thanks anyway, I’ll be in a zombie zoom room.

See something, say something? “Facts checked” or is it fat checks?

Do you even know the difference between, “civil city riots”, “mostly peaceful”?

King’s echoed “content of character”, shat upon.

Self-masturbatory, “masters degree”, in the art of flies;

Flung in faces of rotting dry eyes.

Setting sun over a broken mirror.

Distributing disabled water, Molotov lit hate;

A reflection of abomination fate.

CV19 Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

I’ve been reluctant to even post this, most have had issues with CV19 and the insane unnecessary ‘lock downs’ that did more to general mental health of many people than twenty 9/11’s ever could. The year 2020 that I couldn’t attend church was awful, I never miss services because that is where a lot of my mental, emotional and spiritual support has come from…

Online services were OK for 3 months but after this during the summer of 2020 I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital for the month of July 2020…

After this event my attendance was very sporadic, wearing unneeded masks and not being allowed to sing broke me…and I’ve come to realize this was and is part of the plan, to break the spirit of people…Tell me, how much sense did it make Lowes was open no masks but church’s were muzzled up? Or or oh you are not allowed to sing because of droplets what the heck? 

Does anyone notice how Christians, conservatives, 2A Folk, constitutionalists, and anti-jab folk are being blamed for everything that is wrong? It’s happened many times in history, blame society’s ills on a scape goat group of people…Happened in Ancient Rome, Communist Russia, Nazi Germany, Communist Cuba, Communist Venezuela and now The United Socialist States of America…

Most of 2021 I missed church even after the masks came off and services resumed, PTSD folks…I did go when I felt up to it, but I cannot count the number of Sundays that I ran out midway through the service sobbing and having a panic attack…Countless incenses of being in the church parking lot and cutting myself after my Xanax prescription was stopped…

2021 was hell, and when I try to talk to people to the church I’ve been attending for 10 years, very few respond, most don’t know what to say or do…I used to greet at the front doors before services, I used to sing my heart out, I used to never miss a single service…Now I’m a different person, more of a lifeless empty shell of myself…I still read my Bible daily, but many times the pages become tear stained and the words smudge but it reflects my heart…

God says he keeps my tears in a bottle, He says He’s close to the brokenhearted, to the crushed in sprit…And He truly is, Jesus is the reason I am still alive today, I’ve tried to take my life 3 times in the last two years, yet I’m not dead, but declaring God’s works in the land of the living…It’s been a shadow of death and bitter sweet, I am not afraid of much any more, I tire of the rhetoric, I tire of the lies and I echo what is said at the end of the Bible, ‘Come Lord Jesus, Come.’

How Long Oh Lord

There isn’t going back to normal. We are not in the middle of anything remotely normal. Our choices are drying up, from drought in the west to the crops that fail in the bread basket of America. Do people apply their hearts to knowledge? Do they seek the ways of the Lord? Who is the accuser of the brethren?

Satan.

Look at anything through the eyes of God, behold He is the Lord my God nothing is too hard for Him, He is the Lord Who dose not change, He knows the end from the beginning. No evil will befall me nether shall any plague come near my dwelling. I make the Most High my Dwelling Place.

My Depression has been just giving me hell, and yet, and yet. God, and yet God. Lord you know the longings of my heart and nothing is too hard for You.

I take the shield of faith and I quench every fiery dart that the wicked one brings against me. Ephesians 6:16

I Couldn’t Find Him

I dreamt last night of Gregory.

I was searching for him for I had questions.

But I couldn’t find him.

I called to him but he didn’t answer because he was gone.

I called to him but he was silent and I missed him.

I missed the strength of his presence,

the reliability of his knowledge,

the solidity of his person,

the steadiness of his gaze,

and the sound of his voice.

I called again, and slowly, in his own time, in his own way, far away, invisible, he answered.

Yes, Greg said. What is it? 

His voice answered.

Where have you gone? I asked. I need you.

Are you sure? He answered.

Yes, I said. I have questions for you. 

Greg you, the hope and the despair, 

the right and the wrong,

the light and the dark, 

the question and the answer. 

What do I do?

You carry on, Greg said.

How? 

You keep asking the questions. 

But, what is the answer? I asked.

I’ve shown you the answer:

The hope, the despair, the right, the wrong, the light, and the dark. 

All of it. The answer is My Love. 

In Memory of: Greggory

Tumbling Down Thunder Road

Being a female with autism seemingly ‘having it all together’ but truthfully a lifetime of social crisis mode.

I was interviewed for tropical smoothie in the summer of 2008. The interview was very informal, I recall arriving ten minutes beforehand and requesting to talk with the manager. Clawing through my skin I aced the interview.

After being hired, explaining my autism to the tune of ‘and how does this affect what you are doing?’ Working diligently efficiently and as accurately as possible. Coming to work I’d wipe down the back kitchen preparation areas and made sure everything needed was accessible.

Going the extra mile not understanding the concept of ‘workplace culture’ reasoning business was simply about coming in, executing required tasks, fulfilling orders, producing smoothies, etc.

Often asked to clean bathrooms, I’d stay after my shift to mop floors, wipe down tables, stack chairs and lock up all without complaint. A few coworkers had an issue with me (now realizing this in hindsight.) Repeatedly mentioning autism when a mistake was made only to be harshly criticized, feeling very small and unimportant. I shied away from speaking at all knowing something was ‘off.’

Nevertheless one coworker displayed kindness assisting me with smoothie recipes, how to best and most efficiently make sandwiches what to have on hand and how to become better at what I was doing.

As August came to a close I was told there would be an ‘intervention’ the following day. I was stunned and internally slack-jawed. The following morning I perceived something was awry.

The manager who hired me wasn’t present but the coworker who appreciated me was. Sitting across from her I wanted to crawl out of my skin and gag. She was put in an awkward position and looked very uncomfortable. I was told that I was being fired because I was ‘too slow’ in preparing food and smoothies. My stomach sank, I sat numbly and asked for further clarification to which I didn’t receive.

Gathering my last paycheck and asking to speak with the manager of whom wasn’t available. I never saw him again, he refused to speak with me and tell me why I was being terminated. No one had an answer for me, just a feeling of ‘don’t let the door slap you on the way out.’

Refusing to explain why I was terminated I ran out to my car with reflexive sobs splitting my chest in half. From that point forward I decided disclosing autism wasn’t in my best interests.