Living without knowing why you're different
is much like being homeless.
Sure, your parents and doctors and teachers
all have a responsibility to provide for you,
and you try to fit into systems that seem to work
for every other kid,
but
you don't fit,
and you know it,
and they know it.
Like the homeless, you wander,
going from diagnosis to diagnosis,
in and out,
looking for the right place to be,
to belong, to be wanted,
to be accepted,
not just tolerated.
And sometimes you just settle for where you are
and pretend it is okay
and that you are in the right place,
but
you know you're not,
and they know you're not.
And sometimes you get so discouraged
after wandering and wandering
and searching and searching
for that intangible place where you do fit
that you give up trying;
you feel yourself failing
in your everlasting trial to fit.
And you know it,
and they know it.
but then...
Picture after you look and look
and try and try,
suddenly what you've dreamed for comes true!
A door is not just opened,
but something through it beckons you to come
out into the light!
It welcomes you.
And so with much trepidation,
you tiptoe out of the darkness
and try to blend in and not be noticed.
But you are noticed!
Except this time, it is a new kind of exposure.
Because, instead of having to try to be
what man expects you to be,
you are allowed to be who God made you to be.
You are challenged to be just who you are,
the best that you are.
Not crammed into the same old dark box
but allowed to blossom and bloom.
Not required to hide
but encouraged to stand tall
and be proud of who you are
and why you are.
Picture being embraced
as being absolutely necessary
to complete the whole of God's world.
Tap Dancing in the Night in Turquoise High Heels Thoughts of a tired mother as she contemplates how to get her "wired for sound" child to rest so that all may sleep
Often, very late at night, I listen. I wait to hear those sounds that tell me entertainment
is about to begin.
My body and mind are tired, yet, I know that my rhythm belongs to me, it governs my
patterns but cannot, should not, govern yours.
You’re up for dancing, doing your math and talking to
strangers. I’m down for resting and feeding my mind on still, undemanding respite.
But in a strange
way your rhythm becomes mine. I wait for that tap, tap, shuffle that dances me to sleep in these otherwise
quiet hours.
Perhaps that’s the appeal. Maybe your mind needs the time to be active, when the world
is asleep - No competition, no annoyance, just calm, quietly blinking stars
Being bored one day,
I start to realize,
how horrible my childhood was,
then I dose off
and I suddenly go back in time.
Back to when I had longer hair,
back to when I was teased and bullied,
and when I had glasses.
Thirteen,
ten,
eight,
seven,
now I remember it all.
My life changed when I was very young,
and it sticks with me to this day,
this is something, that I fear,
will never go away.
In my dream I see,
the unattractive, younger me,
scared to face school,
knowing that it would be another day of hell.
And those kids,
they all knew why I was different,
and teased me every chance they had.
Every time I was bullied,
rage and hatred filled my blood,
then at night I shed tears of acid,
that ripped through my heart,
and tore up my soul.
I used to think that I had nothing to live for,
except sit in my room and cry,
nobody cared about me,
or even tried,
I just wanted to rot and die,
and not go through any more of the pain.
Because I was different,
I was often judged,
"freak", "ugly", "half brained girl",
were the names they called me.
The only thing they noticed,
was the ugly duckling they thought was me,
swimming a line with other ducklings,
and the beautiful swan in front,
knowing that I would never be the beautiful swan.
Then I wake up,
and look around me,
I seem to be back in 2003,
and I compare to then and now,
some things have changed.
My life is better now,
but I still want to be recognized,
for my beauty,
talent,
and achievements,
but there is one thing that I want more than anything,
something I've wished for my whole life,
and that is to be respected for who I am,
and someday telling my secret to the world,
that I am an autistic.
Meanderings of my mind at Easter Time as I work in my garden...
My life is like my garden.... They both need an editor.
Not just any editor...A strict editor who insists that I maintain my focus,
reminds me that less is more, that saying something well the first time is
better than repeating the information over and over in less effective words.
I have a tendency to let things happen where they will. To see my garden
is to see my life. I begin a flower bed with the desire to have an orderly
manicured setting. One which would include a few specially chosen selections. But
when a new plant comes into my life, I feel compelled to include it.
Unfortunately, it is rarely part of the original plan, so I just "stick it
somewhere". Somewhere I think it will get its needs best met. A spot with the right water and sunlight. Never
mind if it was part of the planned garden scheme (as if there WERE a
plan!) The plant's needs seem to overshadow the planting rather than the need for orderliness.
At times, I look out my kitchen window at the side yard and see the fish pond and its setting. I
despair at all the conglomeration of yard objects, rocks, bricks, plants
(inside and outside the pond). I try to get myself to put more structure
to the area, shrubs that will provide a nice backdrop for bedding plants,
that might keep the yard from appearing so bare in the winter time, but then I remember the plants that are lying in wait in the blank spaces. I
wonder...Where will I put all those wonderful day lilies?...that though they only bloom
for a short time are so worth the anticipation and yes, the garden space. They are so wonderful! And those
objet d'art that I come across. How can I get rid of the hand print my
children made out of concrete?
so I'm back to total inclusion....the very reason I welcome so many
exceptional people into my life, yet the very thing that creates chaos of
my life.
Do I desire the serenity of order? Yes
Could I actually stand to live with it?
Nope, probably not.
My life,
my garden
Maybe I need more than one kind of garden. I desire to see an orderly,
well-maintained garden, but my soul seems to demand a cutting garden. One where I may be constantly surprised at the
beauty it provides, the lessons it teaches. I like a garden that is not so
rigid that the sharing of a plant leaves an obvious hole in the design, but instead allows the left'behind plants timulated, freer to grow and flourish. I
enjoy the variety of colors and appreciate the changes in the season.
perhaps maybe just one small area could be neat and orderly.... until a
bird drops a seed.....
Welcome to my garden....its full of surprises, a weed or two, a shovel
leaned against the fence for easy access when sharing with a
neighbor...even the fish look relaxed.
I have a feeling God's garden has order and variety...but without the
chaos.
someday I'll fully enjoy His.
