She was never the girl you thought she was
She was never the girl you thought she was,
She was understood by very few.
The stillness and quiet in her room
As she locked herself away
A prisoner of her own mind at an age
when kids were having water balloon fights and playing M.A.S.H
She knew she was different,
And wondered why no one ever thought the same.
If she could go back in time,
She would cry on the flowers that lived just outside her window.
Because then the flowers would be able to grow alongside her.
The flowers handle all types of weather,
and she thought that was relatable,
considering in one day,
she could have a thunder storm, hurricane and a tornado all carry through her
mind,
but somehow still stand.
When she played with her barbies, it wasn’t just play.
She was creating internal family systems and creating
a safe space for her mind.
The barbies, the stuffed animals, the polly pocket’s,
the little trinkets were her dearest friends. It’s not sad,
because it made her happy.
Behind closed doors the mask came off and her
little voice could sing, her little fingers could
play the piano, her little body could dance because
being perceived was not a fear in her little room.
“Every child is like this” echoes and echoes and echoes
When she was dropped off at school every morning,
her body felt immense weight,
and school was the worst possible place,
her safe space ripped away from her.
She had to be brave every day,
and no one knew that walking down the halls,
asking the teacher to use the restroom,
figuring out where to eat at lunch
were big, scary moments every single day.
Some days the scary moments were not conquered,
and she kept everything inside.
There were small moments where she felt proud,
But neurotypical people around her were doing these things just fine,
So why was she making such a fuss?
She was never the girl you thought she was
Her internal battles had to be flattened down well under the rug.
Only her stuffed animals and her best friend (Tilly the dog)
were safe spaces for meltdowns.
They didn’t ask why, and that comforted her.
Crying was never about attention,
It was a way to let the weight of it all go.
Outside, crying wasn’t acceptable
(so she couldn’t release)
Outside, sucking her thumb was deemed weird in public and at school.
(So she couldn’t self soothe)
Outside, being sensitive to everything around her wasn’t possible.
(So she couldn’t be herself)
“that happens to everyone” echoes and echoes and echoes
The big feelings, and oh they were so very big,
were only safe to feel when she closed her door to her magic place.
No bullies, no judgement
she could be at peace, while also being at war with herself.
One day she was full of personality, on stage performing,
And within a blink of an eye she realized,
“This world was not meant for you.
You will not survive if you are you.
So stop it
now”
And the mask went on.
She learned it all by myself.
Her internal family systems saved her
over and over and over.
(thanks barbie)
To have woken up every morning,
masking herself as though she belonged,
while burying her true self
turned every struggle into two.
masking made each wound feel
deeper, each step harder.
Next month, she turns 30,
And wouldn’t you believe it,
She got diagnosed with autism in June.
She may seem very very very very very high functioning to you,
but her own story tells much different.
her story is of survival amongst
humankind with brains unlike her own,
who aren’t kind,
all the time.
She is understood by few
But that doesn’t stop her from working on herself,
and learning how to keep the bedroom door open.