I’ve always known I’m different.
As a young girl, I sought refuge in the forest, talking to trees, creeks, fairies.
I lived within a rich world, teeming with imagination so tangible, I could touch it. Taste it. Feel it.
Like magic, stories flowed out my fingers into notebooks.
I drank words as though they’d offer an elixir, protecting me from the sharp awareness of how I didn’t quite fit…
…with my family, at school, and in the way I gently—yet intensely—lived in the world.
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Looking out the window of the car, I’d track the moon, the stars, and feel lifted out, magnetized toward somewhere—anywhere—other than where I was.
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I especially loved my grandfather on days the air felt thin and harshly sucked dry; he’d tell me stories and I’d comb his snow white hair.
Grandma said he “always had a soft spot for the underdog.”
>>>>>
I believed in magic, revived dying bees, made friends with the neighboring cows, and ached to feel crisp, blistering wind on my face while standing in the middle of the naked field, oaks bearing witness.
That’s when I was free. Liberated. Allowed every cell in my body to feel electric. Wild stirred me out of the hushed quiet … and always would…
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That slightly-set-apart feeling stayed in my bones, set in deep, affecting the way I walked, moved in the world: My head, never held straight—slightly tilted—from all the vacillating between slicing shame of being different and yearning to be noticed, seen, accepted.
I’ve become a master cloaker, easily hidden, able to disappear and ghost whenever I don’t believe I belong.
That’s an old story. It’s run its full course: Not belonging. Not to my family, not to a circle of friends, not to any one culture, not to any one thing.
…Certainly not to myself.
Because: I didn’t belong, I was too much. Too much to handle. Too sensitive. Too weird. Too much. Then: Not enough. So, I’d hide, go deep.
…Oh, how many times I’ve gone under, gone to the dark for cover. For safety.
These stories?
So done. So complete.
And, frankly: b o r i n g.
(So boring.)
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With few exceptions, I’ve kept my diagnosis quiet.
I’m sharing it now because it has kissed me with the greatest gift: Seeing myself.
Understanding who I am. Realizing I don’t need to change. Embracing me.
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I’ve found the wild within—that slithering wind, that call of an intense storm, the bright sky blackened with pink and gold, bruised with purple—the lightning-fire that resides in my spine and moves up my heart.
It’s always here.
I’ve come to welcome it.
Love it whole.
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If you read this post, you know my daughter is autistic.
Girls are rarely diagnosed. It shows up differently in us. The m/f diagnosis ratio is an astounding 4:1.
I, too, am autistic.
Quirky.
Fiercely independent and sometimes rigid/stubborn.
Hyper-sensitive to sensory input.
Outside-the-box.
Intensely passionate.
Highly creative.
Requires extensive time alone.
Intuitive.
Empathic.
…amongst other things…
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I’m aware of the challenges. I live them.
I’m aware of the gifts. I live those.
And I’m finally, finally, finally free.
>>>>>
Just like the little-girl me who revived and saved dying bees, so, too, I’ve revived and saved myself.
The Real me.
The All of Me, me.
The Whole, Complete me.
The one who refuses to hide in a dark cave. Ashamed. Tired. Different.
>>>>>
See, I am different.
I am made of wild, ecstatically fierce and loving neurons. They light up, fast, sparking new pathways and webs of connection.
Revealed, I’m clay-faced, raw, present.
You feel it in my poetry, you’ll see it in my gaze.
I revel in freedom, unveiling myself, dancing, trilling, welcoming you to my world: lush, thick and voluminous, knowing the drumbeat of my soul and the wings that touch the cosmos.
When I feel all of me, I feel all of you. See all of you … and ask you to meet my gaze and let the electric wind pull laughter from our throats … eyes bright, alive.
And if you don’t get me, if you can’t meet me here, if you are afraid and shake: I don’t care.
I’m liberated in my wilderness.
I’ve merged and married my succulently sweet, round and gently, erotically crystalline, catalyzingly soft, wholy-holy Self.
I’m home—embraced—in the edgy grace. I’ll hold you, there, too.
Here I am: Muddied.
Soil under my fingers.
Stars in my hair.
Eyes of lightning.
Fingers of love.
Soles of diamonds.
Heart of fire.
Here.
Ohhh, how I feel with you and recognize myself in your words. I only have to change grandpa for grandma and it could be me you are writing about. Thank you for sharing and giving me the opportunity to see my own life story in someone elses words…
Thank you, Lena, for your kind words. I’m grateful to hear that you had a sweet grandma that loved you in a special way.<3 Thank you for being here + for reading ... I truly appreciate it. Much love to you.
::deep breath:: sending you love. I am so grateful and honored that you recognize yourself in my words. That is the greatest compliment. <3
Wow! I’m moved by your writing and your story
Thank you, Laure! I am grateful that you are here. Thank you for reading… <3
Thank you so very much <3 xox And thank you for being here...
Beautiful. Makes me cry. I don’t think I have Asperger’s. But I resonate so much. My heart is longing for what you have found. Thank you for giving me hope today. And beauty. And love. You inspire me and support me. Love.
Dear Emanuela, thank you for feeling the resonance and understanding. It’s my hope that you, too, “find” that freedom and acceptance. It’s been a journey for me, but the crazy thing is, that freedom is always living within us. I feel grateful and humbled to know you’ve found hope, beauty, and love in this post. I’m sending much love to you. Thank you for being here + reading. I’m sending so much love to your sweet heart. <3
Love you
Ohh, thank you! So much love back to you!! xoxox
Well done Rebecca, on myriad levels!! Love you!!!…..dad
Thank you, daddio! I love you!
You are so beautiful and free Rebecca. You, have arrived home. I love this. All of it. Many blessings to you and your beautiful daughter. Keep on shining in all ways you are meant to do so. xoxo
Thank you, dear Suzanne. Yes … I feel that I’ve arrived home. Now to stay here. LOL! I’m so grateful for you, Suzanne … all the love and kindness you’ve given throughout these years. Many blessings to you, Flying Sister! xoxox
It is always thrilling to hear of someone that has finally been Made free, gloriously and sacredly FREE by accepting who they are; right here and right now! Cherish your freedom! never let it go! What a gift you are to all of your readers and thank you for the diamonds you given to us on this day. Blessings!
Oh, thank you for your beautiful words. You have touched my heart deeply. Thank you.
Beautiful! We love you and Freya!!! We are so lucky to have you both in our family.
Oh, thank you! I love you all.
Rebecca, thank you for sharing your beautifully vulnerable, wildly ecstatic self with us. You are a gem of a gift!
Thank you so much, dear Wendy <3 xoxoxox
Adore you in all of your bodacious, quizzical, tenderotic fullness love.
Awww <3 I love you, too! xoxoxox
Dear Sister of my Heart,
I see you….all of you ….your fire, your heart, the soles of your feet as you run to be free of
being contained… I see you….
I see your eyes of wisdom…
Eyes that have seen many moons and many places…
And your words like stardust that fall like jewels…
jewels of it’s own crown….
A crown of a Goddess untamed…
Free…
Oh, Windy. Your poetry, your words, your mirroring, your love touch me deeply. I am grateful for you and wish I could give you a big hug. I’m sending you infinite love. Forever.
Beautiful words. More power to you in your wild aliveness!
Thank you so very much! xoxo
reading this for the first time and what comes to mind is that you ought to write a play. There’s a play in there. Have you ever considered it? Lovely, exquisite writing. Thank you.
Oh, wow. Thank you for your kind words. No … that isn’t anything I have ever considered. Thank you for those thoughts! <3
So So witnessing sister and deeply moved by your passage home to freedom.
Thank you so very much. <3 Sending you love <3
I love you, daughter, and love you just the way you are.
Mom
I love you, too <3
I have always loved you just the way you are. So beautifully written. Linda
Oh, thank you. I’m grateful you do. And have. <3 I love you. <3