over arching themes I don't remember if it was the first or second grade Mrs. Baker or Mrs. Mcdonald I went to an American International School before they moved me to the British one to be with my sister I'm glad I had those first two years of participation awards Anyway, one of those beautiful teachers introduced us to diary writing My first diary entry was about a leprechaun, an evil one (no I didn't see the movie) A lesson about St Patrick's day and the trauma at home turned into magical realism because baby brains are wondrous and resilient So at first it was that Writing as release, relief Then I started to imagine an audience, my future self I was documenting I was afraid of memories twisting or being buried My family escaped Kuwait during the first Gulf War I couldn't remember being a 4 year old refugee, I remembered things from before and after but not much of the actual fleeing Accuracy became important When I got older, I would read to remind myself And inevitably analyse Search for patterns or clues Maybe it was because I read about plucky kids like Anne of Green Gables I was obsessed with Nancy Drew as well I was convinced that everything was just a puzzle and one day I'd be clever enough to solve it The dissociation became intrusive in university I felt compelled to write then It was familiar and grounding Somewhere I could exist without all the confusing social rules that I didn't understand and was terrified to break No not just exist Flourish Unfurl my crusty sails Be irreverent and bold Practice being a person, different kinds of people, without worrying about shame I remember rehearsing entire conversations, so many hypotheticals If N says let's get lunch then I can respond with plan A or B or C And I always had my ever evolving little biographical blurb That was much harder to let go of Eventually I had the confidence to speak unfiltered But I needed that neat summation of who I am for a long time Oh who am I kidding, I still do I still struggle with the fact that I can't explain how I got to this point and position in life in a few effective sentences I can't set expectations And I think thats a big part of why I avoid 99.999 percent of humanity And after ten or so years of therapy, my sister convinced me to download tiktok I'm still not sure how I feel about the idea that a few months passively learning what autism is on tiktok was more enlightening than all of the therapy sessions combined... Grief Not to bang on, I know I talked about that in the last post But yeah I feel this weird grief that hits immediately after the validation and understanding Sad that I lost time, angry that it seems so unnecessary, panicked that feeling this is just eating up more time I wish grief hit me in stages, that would be so clean and convenient It's a maddening feelings salad/hurricane Everything all at once You know that bit in movies where the nut job simultaneously cries and cackles and it's supposed to unnerve you? Now I just poke the screen and say same There are no over arching themes, Sarah Time still warped everything, new information, new context And now instead of writing to future self, you write letters to your child self You write to your mama It never turned into Marcus Aurelius meditations But that's okay And you'll never be neurotypical And apparently you can embrace this I don't know why I'm writing again either I don't know why I'm writing Not relief, not documentary, not communication practice Not practice The opposite of trying on different masks Peeling? Onion layer peeling Which is uncomfortable Maybe there was one constant I've always wanted to give my heart to somebody So many of these entries are various fixations and drunken rantings about love I thought this was a tool to understand how to get there But it was the wrong way around The experiences were tools This is my love Writing is my friend, my time machine, my counselor, my challenger This is my no theme onion heart |