I feel like my soul is tired.
I’m tired of this endless roundabout of abuse and discrimination.
Tired to the bone.
This is chronic illness. The co-occurring crap of my life as an autistic person triggered by lack of accessibility.
Needing to shut myself away to survive and hoping I’ll resurface again.
I keep thinking if only I could find the one place my autistic creativity is harnessed so I’m not exhausted. Where I’m not told to be neurotypical in order to exist. Where is that place?
That will be the balancing point and I’ll enter my 50th year feeling….feeling….
How do you know what it is if you’ve never felt it? Is it connection? Is it belonging?
I don’t know how that would feel. Those are things I see the neurotypicals feel.
Knowing they fit. Knowing they belong. Not always on the outside.
That would be nice.