The year is almost over,
And another will soon start.
This year, however,
I’ll begin with a broken heart.

I’m missing my loved ones,
My friends who’ve recently passed.
I miss their sweet voices,
Their smiles and their laughs.

It was supposed to be a Merry Christmas!
Another photo in the album!
Then suddenly that changed,
to the first Christmas without ’em…

I screamed up at God,
“CAN YOU JUST TELL ME WHY?”
“ARE YOU EVEN UP THERE?!”
“AM I JUST YELLING AT THE SKY?!?!”

I fell to my knees,
and started punching at the ground.
When suddenly I realized…
My loved one’s are all around…

They’re right here with me,
Feeling all this pain.
Does that mean they feel the sunshine?
Does it mean they feel the rain?

Maybe they’re not as gone,
As the world seems to say.
Maybe they’re right beside me…
Every night and every day!

If they’re here with me,
Guiding my every move…
Then I know that I can make it!
Because there’s nothing they can’t do!

This poem is dedicated in loving memory to my friends Alex Wisniewski, Joe Ewer, and Tammy Pouliot, but it goes out to anyone who has lost a loved one.

You are not alone. ❤️❤️❤️

Dear Former Self,

I know life is hard for you. I understand how just existing is painful. Once you dreamed of being happy, or at least content. Now you only dream of death. Don’t give up though little one. Start believing that happiness is within reach, that you can and will find it someday.

You think you’re so wise, but there’s things you still don’t know. Someone should have told you that what you’re feeling is a sickness of the mind. Instead they let you believe you are bad – antisocial to hide away, stubborn not to eat, and “always airing your dirty laundry” when you finally do speak. This sickness, this clinical depression, has eaten away your confidence, overwhelmed you with sadness, and closed you eyes to hope. It’s trying to kill you and right now it’s winning. But you’ll get strong, find the help you need, and beat this thing back.

Someday those endless stream of doctors will lead you to some good medicine. You’ll have to keep up with a lot of pills, but it will quell that mad misery plaguing you. You will get to know your sickness inside and out, including how to zap it’s energy and hold over you.

I will not lie. You will never kill the beast. But your dream of happiness is still achievable. You can learn to tame the monster, hold it at bay, and when it grabs you, you’ll be able to loosen yourself from its grip. As you grow bigger, it’ll get small and weak.

Someday you won’t be alone in your struggle either. You’ll find love and understanding in real friends and a life partner who takes care of you when you can’t care of yourself. This love will fill your dry well of loneliness and you’ll feel warmth instead of that chilling cold.

You’ll manage a semblance of normalcy – and not as a show, but genuine stability and satisfaction. You won’t be happy all the time, but you will come to a place where you realize you’re happy with your life. No longer will you dream of death. Instead you’ll dream of exciting new adventure lying ahead. Oh, and adventures you will have – summitting snowy peaks, riding trains through India, making wine with your cousins in eastern Europe, skinny dipping in the Pacific Ocean, studying under the Dalai Lama, and so much more.

So don’t give up little one. It may take a while, but some day your dream of happiness will come true.

When a human dies, the world stands still for a quiet moment and no one on earth can breathe. Then each individual except for you takes their next inhale and I realize that the world was never still at all.

People say that they would die for you, but do people ever say that they would live for you?
I would live for you; I will live the life that you never got to experience fully and I will take you with me.

The sorts of things that people live for; I will chase exhilaration as a hungry ghost praying for its bones and flesh.
I will collect my insides begging to love them. I will watch fireflies and wonder what they mean.

I will curse the day that you had to leave this blip of mine.
I will dance until I cry, then I will cry until I laugh. I will throw myself into the depths of an ice bath just to miss the heat.

I will find joy in the little things because it’s what you would have wanted. And I will stop smoking cigarettes out of spite. I will celebrate the person that you were and the people that you healed and forgive you for letting yourself be so out of reach.

Since you disappeared, I’ve seen you everywhere! At the sight of tea, the sound of a sad guitar, in the eyes of those who loved you.
Those who knew the gift of knowing you and wanted you so badly to stay.

When a human dies, the soul searches the universe for a body to be held; what I would do to feel your warm tears wet my goose-bumped shoulder and squeeze your hand saying that we’re not that different from each other instead of this.

When a human dies, their friends and blood carry their body across the fields of a lonesome cemetery and place flowers to keep them company.
And for some people the world keeps spinning. But for some of us, the world is just as still.

It was Diwali eve.
Walking about on the crowded streets of a busy bazaar, with a handful of unnecessarily full shopping bags, I attempted to absorb the capitalistic madness and the sensory overload all around me. Evidently, I had spent too much time away from home, and had clearly lost the knack of smart street side shopping. A skill over which, I had unwittingly relinquished my mastery.
Looking to purchase those lovely bangles from the street stall, I found myself shamelessly bargaining with the vendor to reduce the ticket price by 200 rupees(2 dollars) . Not because I did’not want to pay the extra couple of bucks but because it felt like a gratifying activity to engage in .There was something ego boosting about seeing someone succumb to my whimsical wishes.
It was then I felt a gentle pat on my back.
In front of me , well below eye level stood a little boy who if had to guess, was no older than possibly 8 years. A boy whose smile matched the smiles on the colorful balloons he carried and intended to sell. I was smitten and felt an instant liking. Right away, I experienced a fondness for his face, his untainted innocence, his purity, his aura.But I had no logical need for his giant balloons, then or ever at all. Sadly realizing this, I gently shooed him away. His face fell but he didn’t move. It was clear he wasn’t just about ready to give up on me yet.Mustering up courage , he begged me for help stating he had’nt eaten in a while and any money I could hand out would go a long way in feeding him and his sister.I wanted to help him but I had no local currency. As I rummaged through my purse I kept glancing at him, half expecting him to grab my purse any minute and run away. But he waited patiently. “I am sorry but I don’t have any local money” , I informed him sadly.Although he was disappointed , at some level I believe he could sense my genuine intent to help.Sheepishly he folded his hands behind his back and stuttered” Aunty, it’s ok. But can I walk you to a store near by? They have firecrackers and accept credit cards”
I found myself smiling involuntarily.
Clearly, it wasn’t a very thought out request . He was hungry and needed food. He has no need for frivolous fireworks. He just wanted them.
In front of me , I saw just a child. A child searching for joy in unsuspecting ways. A child who had no plan about his next meal. A child who had his priorities all wrong.
He was a child and that was all there was to him.
And that fact , justified all aspects irrational about the “please” he said to me that day .As I accompanied him to the store and got him the fireworks he desired, he walked away elated while I walked away with an awakening.
Sometimes, it is ok to just not foresee a future.
Sometimes, It is ok to be frivolous.
It is ok to look for instant gratification.
It is ok to not have a plan at all for some tomorrows.
Vetrivel and many such kids continue to live their lives by the day.
All they have is this today
A today that can never guarantee that a tomorrow shall even be.
All they have is this today
A today to tide through
In hope, joy and wishful childlike glee.

Art, visual art, phography, AI creations
Are all being used to show support
For the massacres of a peoples
Whose homes destruct
Under the sieges
Of bombs,
Drones,
Death,
At,
At the
Hand of
Oppressors,
Colonizers, thieves,
Manipulators, power hungry
For what’s not theirs to have,
But their backing, support permits
Them what no other’s assent mobilizes.
Out of the ruins
An angel rises,
Soars freely,
Peacefully seeking
The innocent souls
Whose lives were
Violently stripped
Cries of injustice
Surge with each
Blast, that’s a death
Knell on family trees.
How do we explain
This terror to babes?
Whose losses are
Insurmountable in oscillation between extremes:
Trauma, loss, violence they’ve
Experienced sooo young.
Do we brush it off?
Do we succumb?
Do we survive?
Do we live
Happily?
Sadly?
No
No
No

There were 72,647,690 people who voted for a candidate that has worked to divide us. There were 67,961,962 who voted for change. Who despite the fear of the unknown chose to do their part and try and make change. It’s easy to focus on those that chose hate. I can’t believe that that many people in this country hate others so much. I am choosing to believe they are scared. They chose fear. Fear of things they don’t understand. They chose ignorance. They chose not to try to understand.

They chose something I don’t understand.

67,961,962 chose a minority female to be their leader. I’m going to choose to focus on that. There is 67,961,962 who tried to make a change. We don’t know if it would have been beneficial. We don’t know if it would have truly kept us safe and moving towards the future. That alone is scary. Change is scary. Sometimes even when the known is bad it’s easier to stay than to risk the change.

It’s why people stay in bad relationships. It’s why people keep relationships with friends and family members who’s morales don’t really align. The fear of what making a change might bring. What if it’s worse? What if the change is wrong? What if I end up alone?

As someone who has made a lot of change and has struggled through it. I think change is always good, even when it’s not. The thing about making changes is you can just keep doing it.

You need to separate your ego from your choices. It’s okay to admit you were wrong. It’s okay to say you can’t do something you thought you could or that it didn’t work out the way you thought it would. It’s okay to reevaluate and change over and over again.

I’d rather admit I was wrong and keep trying to figure out what is right over and over again then try and fool myself and everyone around me that it’s right.

There’s so much strength in quitting, in failing, in starting over. You learn. You change. You grow.

You can’t ever get back up if you don’t fall.

I left a really secure job in June trying to pursue working for myself. I wanted to have more control over my schedule, work less hours, have more time to focus on my health and other creative opportunities. I spent months planning and finally took the jump. Things were harder than I thought they would be and that’s partially because I started to doubt myself.

All the doubt that others had put in my head started to take over. I started to see everything from a scared mindset. I ended up going against my original boundaries and goals and made my life harder. My body reacted really poorly. I barely slept, could barely eat, threw up every morning. All of this made it even harder. I then felt a lot of shame. So much shame for failing. Felt stupid for changing and trying something.
I reached out for help. I relied on my community and I made a plan. I changed. I keep changing over and over again. I fall back and doubt. I go into bits of shame but I’m quicker at coming up from it. I’m quicker at accepting that change is good. Change is important. Change is part of life.

Nothing is permanent and you can always make a difference

So to the 67,961,962 who voted for change. Who weren’t afraid of our differences. Thank you. We’re not alone. We can still make change and we can stand together again.
To the 72,647,690 who didn’t please don’t be afraid to change your mind. If you don’t agree with the things that this presidency does don’t hold onto your ego. Reevaluate. Make change. Make our government work for us.

Personally, I have been having a lot of difficulty everywhere. It began Tuesday night. Words got really difficult to produce, I was in my bug eye lack of blinking face, my oral motor skills were worse than normal (I could not drink out of a cup without spilling all over myself). My head started to throb, I took my migraine medication and went to sleep very early. I woke up the next morning and was still experiencing migraine symptoms. I didn’t really understand why my attack just would not end.

I looked at the results of the election and felt nothing. I thought.

So there are three things that come with autism that I think have made this election especially difficult: Interoception difficulties, rejection sensitivity and, justice sensitivity.

Interoception is the ability to perceive and be aware of internal body sensations.

We use these to know what were feeling, what we need etc. I, like many autistics am not very good at identifying or labeling my emotions/feelings. Let’s be real I suck at this. I am 30 years old and only now realizing what signals my body sends me to tell me I’m hungry. I think partly because I have a hard time actually sensing the things from my body, partly because I take things very literally. My stomach doesn’t “rumble” when I get hungry like I thought it would, I get tired, it gets harder to speak, I have an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I often would think I was feeling anxious and/or tired and reach for a cup of coffee or try and identify why I was feeling anxious, inevitably making me feel more anxious. I’ve now realized this is how I sense hunger and try and eat something- it feels like magic. On my second reflection on this I am realizing that I am so unaware of my bodyily sensations that I don’t feel them until they are way more severe like the complete shut down I go into when I haven’t eaten. I don’t necessarily notice what my body feels like when its angry, scared, sad. I don’t always notice that my heart is racing, or that my breathing is quicker. Sometimes if I do I don’t necessarily know why and it may take hours or days for me to identify that those were due to a feeling of anger or scared.

Rejection sensitivity is intense emotional reactions to perceived or actual rejection or failure.

This is extremely common among autistics and then can also be associated with shame. I don’t want to feel completely devastated and like my entire world is ending when plans I was looking forward to get changed or canceled but I can’t help it. As an adult I can logically ration with myself but it doesn’t change the effect it has on my nervous system. Even the perceived thought of a plan being change I can literally feel throughout my entire body as if there is this sludge filling up inside of me. I now often know that my reaction may be larger than someone else and that can lead to a lot of shame. I didn’t think about the fact that if my candidate didn’t win I would feel rejected.

Justice sensitivity autisic/adhd persons tend to have a stronger sense of justice and morality and contrary to popular belief stronger empathy than others. I think this can partially be because of my black and white thinking I can have a hard time seeing things I think are 100% right from other peoples points of view. I also feel extremely deeply about those things. Things that may not necessarily directly effect me feel as if they’re happing to me.

So all of these things combined have lead to a really confusing few days. I didn’t even realize that the uncertainty of the election was weighing on me. Some of the stress triggered a (migraine) attack or maybe thats how I sense sadness/anger/fear? I spent the day feeling very unsettled and like I had a migraine attack. I tried to do everything I could to help how I was feeling. I journaled, I rested, I went for a walk, I did tai chi, I layed down, I made sure I was eating nutritious foods, maintaining hydration but, I couldn’t feel regulated. The last thing I knew to do was to be around safe people. So I went to my partners house; it was at that moment that everything hit me. I started sobbing; snot everywhere. We went for a walk and I was able to talk and as I started to talk about what I was thinking about I was able to label things… a little.

Now it is Thursday, I am still feeling it. I understand why I am feeling it and that it just will effect me more than a neurotypical person. So I am spending my time regulating my nervous system. I am giving myself grace. I am taking time to physically rest, nourish my body. I am using all of my comfort items, spending time only around safe people, connecting to people who make me feel good via phone, hugging my stuffed squirtle extra tight, listening to podcasts about my special interests, spending time sorting simple items, wearing clothing that I find comfortable, painting, dancing, writing. Reminding myself this won’t last forever. I will feel more regulated again and as the great Justin McElroy said “I’m gonna wake up and keep trying to and do good and no one gets to vote on that”.

the day you begin at your lowest is the day they need you to smile,
to “look like you want to be here,” to put on the mask,
so you don’t ruin his day, so you don’t make her uneasy.
honesty is selfish, so you force the grin,
the dam holding back grief as it threatens to flood,
an apology for daring to express a neurotic emotion,

intrusive thoughts rush through cracks,
the fracture in understanding reality where you don’t know how to accept what’s true,
having faith in the dark of your closed eyes that you will see light when you open them again,
these truths that shape your identity and guide your actions,
an inundation that leaves you horrified by what belongs to you,
until you fortify for mind with a pill
as i slip into comfortable delusion, breathe shallow,
my medicine tastes like lobotomy.

the hollow platitudes of condolences that feel obligated to speak by the collective obligation to speak,
“hope you feel better”
“you sound crazy.”
pressing at the seams of your fragile control.
it thrives on this quiet, this forced calm,
i’m impatient.

makes you wonder where the clear water went,
if it was ever there at all,
makes you feel like you had it coming during the day you’re at your lowest,
when you’re meant to lead a presentation for your boss- pace your self and inhale deep so they can’t hear tremble in your voice,
when you’re meant to join your family for dinner- running through multiple choice scenarios in an attosecond to formulate the intricate lie you’ll tell your mother in lieu of causing her worry,
when you have no thoughts to share as tour body puppeteers your actions to fulfill your daily routine,
somewhere deep within no matter how hidden,
a forcefully forgotten memory of trauma is randomly triggered and you lose control, embarrassing yourself by letting see the face behind the mask,
the pain behind the smile,
makes you feel like you deserve to hurt*** yourself