Tag Archives: autism

Blogger Recognition Award: Thanks For Choosing Me Over Everyone So Much Cooler

mac

For the third time in less than a year, I’ve been nominated for the Blogger Recognition Award.

This time? By my friend over at Cocoons Are Sometimes Comfy. https://cocoonsaresometimescomfy.wordpress.com/2017/05/15/blogger-recognition-award-when-being-recognized-is-nice/ One of my favorites on WordPress, I’ve grown close to the words to this poet’s fantastic words and similarities regarding life on the autism spectrum. The stories are sometimes eerily similar to what I’ve gone through, and the resounding strength that speaks far after I close the page is rarely outdone. Thank you friend, you’re the real MVP (or however they say it on social media)

Anyway, the rules:

  1. Thank the blogger who nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
  2. Write a post to show your award.
  3. Give a brief story of how your blog started.
  4. Give two pieces of advice to new bloggers.
  5. Select 15 other bloggers for this award.
  6. Comment on each blog to let them know you’ve nominated them and a link to the post you created.

My blog started back in late August of last year.  I had known about my aspergers for four years but had done little to do anything about it. WordPress has always been addictive to me, but this was different. And better. Blogging gave my voice some wheels, and the knowledge I gained from books (and soon other bloggers, like my sweet soul sister’s Laina, Beth, and more recently the wonderful voice behind Just Me) began to steer my life into the direction I never thought it would. I started opening up, and sharing my experiences (https://marylandpoetblog.wordpress.com/2016/11/07/an-aspergians-confession-part-one/), being honest about the struggles my condition gave me (https://marylandpoetblog.wordpress.com/2017/01/18/an-aspergians-chemical-romance/?wref=tp), and really just discovering my voice as (from what I’ve been told) a pretty damn good poet. Thanks to so many wonderful voices, I’ve learned more about myself, become a better person because of it, and in turn been able to shine light for others who were just like I was just a few years ago.

Two pieces of advice for you new bloggers. One, just post. Pressing “publish” is the hardest part, but once you do it, the momentum will carry you to wherever you want to go. Don’t make yourself do anything. Let it happen, and you will be surprised what becomes of it. Two, say thanks. There are COUNTLESS blogs, so the fact that someone took the time to read (and maybe comment/reblog) yours is very, very special. Ever since I started, I always remember to say thank you to my readers. It’s not hard to do, and doesn’t take much time. It shows you care about others.

Now, to my nominations….

https://silentfall.me/

https://femiiesther.wordpress.com/ (I will ignore her words “I  I can’t think of why so many people will like it” in reference to my favorite band)

https://solitudeinsilence.wordpress.com/

https://so352.wordpress.com/

https://unabashedautist.com/

https://secretpoetess.wordpress.com/

https://keelythecynicalrejectblog.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

 

I Didn’t Believe I’d Be Where I Am Today

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I didn’t believe

I would do anything that I’ve done today

I never saw, or even dreamed

that I’d be where I stand today

just a few years ago I couldn’t come out the house

in fear and angst at the outside world

just a few years ago I didn’t volunteer

and while confident in my abilities to be a published author

I never thought I’d have even a part time job

especially not in customer service

just a few years ago my whole life was porn and Madden

now I’m repaying the anger with hum of fingers on these keys

call me Darren McFadden

the anger I used to take out on my family

on strangers

on me

frustrated at the disability that I could never see

the desire but lack of strength to set this soul free

if only I could see the door trust me I’d make the key

now today I know I’m stronger than they said I’d ever be

when I put down the Clorox

and opened up my soul

to some guy living in the sky

I realized he could make me whole

He showed me that my condition

was a gift

put down the knife, put down the concrete

and mend this rift inside me

aspergers humbles me every single day

it reminds me that without him nothing will go my way

when I’m feeling down I put pen to paper and I pray

somebody please take this anxiety away

away

goes the pain

goes the regrets

go the doubters

and to everyone who saw me write nonstop

and said I was wasting my hours

this one’s for you

for the lovers

for the haters

for those who don’t know me

and those who wish they did

 

 

You Only Know Who You Think I Am

a_northern_light_cover

Poetically cunning

words leaving brains and hearts humming

and while you’re eager to read on

you only know who you think I am

late night writes with Pete Wentz in my ears

in attempt to ward off nightmarish fears

but I put on a smile to cover it up

so you only know who you think I am

work is mental drudgery, and family is worse

but my good moods come in spurts

they think I’m okay

but you only know who you think I am

inside I feel like I’m dying

and this week wants to make me stop trying

but I don’t tell you what’s really going on

and you only know who you think I am

I stand in the pouring rain

there’s little I like better

but you think I’m insane

and I let you believe who you think I am

I sit by myself, I have no friends

hell, it takes me ten minutes just to press send

you think I’m antisocial and crude

stupid world, you only know who you think I am

I write everyday

to reveal everything

and nothing

to make you think you know who I am

I am depressed, anxious, angry, and dejected

broken, shy, disheartened, and rejected

failure makes me afraid to try again

socially I have to pretend

I hope I’m not like this forever

because there’s gotta be someone out there

I just haven’t met her

or I did

and I failed her

(now I’m regretting everything again)

you no longer have to guess, now

you know who I really am

 

I Will Never Believe In Anything Again

a_northern_light_cover

I will never believe again

in fate or fortune

and my fear of never having a lover

needs an early abortion

I worry too much

in controlling my destiny

when the very key to my wishes

is already inside of me

I worry too much

in trying to be like everyone else

what happened to the old me

that really didn’t give a fuck

about who liked me, and who didn’t

and who saw me do that thing

of which I am repentant

I’ve gotten soft, I think

and need to re-don my hard shell

because inside of this Cancer

is poetic beauty that quells

deepest fears

and shortcomings pointed out

by sophomoric peers

I will never believe again

in luck or chance

and instead in myself

whether my followers be many, or scant

those who care

care

those who don’t

I’ll see you there

at the top of the mountain

the pinnacle of all my work

but at my time, not yours

the world doesn’t run on one schedule

and neither will I

so goodbye

because I will never believe again

in anything I choose not to

no longer will the world abuse

my African American differences

and autistic personality

I choose to live as I am

the Devereaux of this reality

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Twenty-Two: Where Are They Now?

burning-tree

I’ve turned away a lot of people over my lifetime. Some I didn’t mind turning away (like my Dad, but that’s another story), and others I didn’t know well enough to care either way, but then there’s the ones I regret every single day. The ones you see in your reflection in the mirror. The ones they write songs about. The ones that make you feel less than human for ever letting go.

For me, there’s this one…it was this girl I met a few years ago. Around my age. Pretty.  Blonde. Lived in Baltimore, too. Funny. Very talented writer. Everything I’ve always wanted in a girl. I didn’t know what happened, but we just stopped talking. I couldn’t figure out why at first, and so I was mad at her for while. Maybe I just looked too deep into her, or maybe she was too shallow. Then it hit me.

I remember how I used to text her constantly. And call a lot (if you can’t tell I’m going against a lot of my aspergian tendencies. Tells you how much I liked this girl). I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t think it was wrong, for people who liked each other to talk a lot, and she took it well for a while. And then she told. “It’s really annoying” she said in an early morning text, and that was the last I’ve heard from her.

I didn’t know as much about my Aspergers then, and I didn’t understand that I was intruding on her personal space. I feel like a terrible fool nowadays, and I wish I could meet her just once to apologize for everything. We don’t even have to become friends, it would just feel good to actually be honest with her. I was desperate to make friends back then, so I never told her about my condition. Anyway, this is a poem about her. If she’s reading this, well, it may be too much too late, but I had to write this to bring some closure regarding the incident, and the hope that one day I’ll be able to make it right.

 

Boarded the number ten

as light rain sends the birds

scurrying to the shadows

there’s but a few men

seated sporadically

on the star speckled seats

time alone for this lonely soul

is a rarefied treat

I pass through my city

sober seems to be the mood

with the cloudy sky putting a dent

in many afternoon

some are talking on cell phones

other eating lunch

still steaming in brown styrofoam containers

some hustle down the blocks

some idle in green crocs

those shoes disgust me

Light Rail goes by

I think of heading to work

and enjoying a peach fry pie

on to the number eleven

passing the Charles Street metro

I can’t remember how to forget

how I was a lot more ignorant

and subsequently braver

how I’d approach her with confidence

and think of consequences later

I think she liked that

I think she liked that a lot

but the charm wore off

as the autistic traits I tried to hide

knocked on my wood

I kid you not, it shrunk

as time wore on, she became distant

and I become resistant

at the sight of what had become

and I haven’t heard of her in two years

what have I done

 

 

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Twenty-One: I Do It For My Family, My Autistic Family

wamtac

Each day I come in

and don my white apron

smile, and polite greetings

I step to the demons

and grit my broken teeth

leave them seething

each day I make change

empty powder-covered trays

and laugh at Mary’s favorite team

and their horrible receivers

I step to the establishment

and stab them in the face

out of shy autistics I make believers

every tip received

and check cashed

shows them how far I’ve come

I’ve aged pretty fast

not in years, really

but in confidence

in determination

and in courage

I don’t carry a chip on these shoulders

I carry the dead of Mount Everest

and quiet should your expectations stay

lest you trigger my sensitivity

and cause me to uncloak

the dreaded focus and commitment

that the profession continues to revoke

I work for my family

my autistic family

the ones with moths on their web pages

and female warriors, too

“Aspergian’s can’t work in customer service”

if only you knew

that I do it

to prove you wrong

I dance to the beat of my hand-flapping

foot-tapping

tell-tale autistic drum

and marching in the opposite direction

eventually gets you noticed

and soon others are eager

to sing along

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Twenty-One: Something Beautiful I Haven’t Yet Put Into Human Form

WAMTAC

I can’t get enough of the way she moves

she’s so perfect

dancing long into the night with the groove

she’s so perfect, the way she moves

with hips so wide

and face so smooth

I wrestle with my heart, my mind

if I could turn back time

to before I was born

I wouldn’t have made myself like this

but here I am

with this condition of mine

I’ve got something to prove

and swimming in my veins

is the desire, the will

to make me fall in love again

twirling gracefully

she’ll soon call it a night

twirling seductively

I have to make her bite

I don’t have much to offer

looks seemed to skip this one

but as far as this room is concerned

I’m the only one

that stares long enough

and sits quietly enough

to hear the heartbeat

of a little bird

in the busty chest of a temptress

waiting to settle down and nest

with a forever lover

unlike any other

and that’s what I have over them all

just draw close to me soon

take my shaking hand in yours

so confident, so proud

and let us work the room

of life guided by infinity

with silence, and also with sound

I do, I do

I truly love you

and I’ve never been so damn sure

as I am right now

before your gazing eyes

and knowing all my past

will be made right

with a kiss, with a kneel

a ring, a veil

a storybook

waiting to be written

 

 

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Eighteen: What is Aspergers To Me?

WAMTAC

Aspergers

what is it to me?

A cancer

that only I can see?

A poison

drunk by the unborn soul at birth?

A dent, a scratch

that devalued my worth?

A bolt from a complete machine

that keeps me doomed

from reaching your sweet?

A scarlet mark on my chest

to serve as a marker

for scorn from the rest?

A road to suicide

because one spirit

cannot see a way out this mess?

I see it as all

and none

because I look not at what I was

but what I’ve become

I’m not what I’ve done

I’ve what I’ve overcome

A unique condition that challenges others

to accept what we give out sporadically

but challenges the autistic further

by forcing him or her

to accept what they are daily

See, others can chose to live us with us or not

but we must live with ourselves day after day

you can put on any mask and don any cape

try as we may, there is no other way

real autism doesn’t ask for money

because all the riches in the world

couldn’t buy us an once of normality

real autism only asks for your ears

that you listen to our wishes and fears

what we love and what we hate

why a pattern we are quick to replicate

and in time our words imprint on you something no

Benjamin could ever replace

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Fifteen: My Anxiety Electrocutes Me In Ways Most Doctors Can’t Explain

nano

When aspergians talk about their anxiety, it goes FAR beyond the general “oh yeah, I feel anxious”. There’s anxious, like when you have to present a proposal in front of a board, and then there’s the autistic anxious. It is a deeper, more emotionally affecting happening. My anxiety isn’t just a tightness I get in my stomach, like after eating something from a bad take out place. No, it actually hurts. And mine doesn’t just hurt, it burns. It sounds crazy, but it’s unlike any sensation I ever have (and probably ever will) experience. It’s why I try so hard to avoid things that make me anxious, because nobody likes to get shocked, right? If YOU are on the spectrum, I want you to tell me in the comments below what your anxiety feels like.

 

Dark clouds

fill a silent soul

a light rain

keeps sight close

and the heart beats

to the tune it’s always known

no difference

no change

just the same thing again

and again

others pester

my life seems so bland

why my own family

says I’m not fun to be around

I have no friends

I have no social life

I have nothing but words

from the deepest night

and then I hear the sound

an electrical hum down my back

faster than copper wheels

on a railway track

it makes me fall back

my voice flat

once again,

I’ve fallen into the trap

and I’m almost home

but don’t wake me up

this is the safest place

I’ve ever known

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Thirteen: What Triggers My Sensitivity?

wamtac

Part of my aspergian life is a heightened sensitivity to the world around me. Sounds, tastes, feelings, colors…you name it, I’m either positively or negatively affected by them. As I live in the city, I find it hard most of the time to be a perfect peace with my inner nature. I like quiet, stillness…I don’t mind motion, but it’s the kind of motion. Certainly not the bustling, back and forth kind you find in a downtown complex. That’s why I struggle going out, because it’s a sensory overload. When I shut down and become as introverted as possible, people see me as cowardly, weak, or a pussy (depending on vocabulary). In a rough city like Baltimore, being someone like me can be a death sentence, and thank God I’ve made it this far, but the journey is difficult still. So, in this post, I’m going to list the things I’m most sensitive to. If YOU are on the spectrum, I want you to say what you’re most sensitive to in the comments below. Hope you all enjoy!

 

Yelling: I really. really. really. really. really. hate this. Whether it’s directed towards me or someone us, the increased sound of a heightened voice is one of the worst sounds I can hear. Making it doubly painful, I tend to associate it with my childhood.

 

Darkness: Yep, I bet you were expecting me to say bright lights, but I’m far more sensitive to darkness. I can stare at the sun for seconds at a time, but being in the darkness makes my hair stand on ends. It probably has to to with the anxiety of not knowing where things might be, but I really am not a big fan either way.

Close contact: Hugs. Handshakes. Fist pumps. Kisses. Touching. I don’t care. Keep it away from me. I know it makes me seem inhuman and shallow, and even though I tell people I don’t like it, they insist anyway. Maybe they’re not use to someone who doesn’t like close contact (not my problem). It feels weird, and I can’t reconcile it at all. This is another why us aspies struggle in intimate relationships. I can’t imagine how hard sex might be (if anyone’s comfortable divulging, I’d be interested in your viewpoint).

Speaking: Natural to humans, I still struggle with it. I hate hearing myself. I feel stupid when I talk. I don’t have speech problems, but sometimes I get so anxious I struggle putting sentences together, and sometimes I speak more in mumble than actual English. Conversation is a total bust for me. People looking me in the eye, and making all these gestures I don’t understand. I feel threatened most of the time, and even if they’re the nicest person in the world, I’ll respond as if they’re predators.

Sometimes I really hate my life.