Imposter Syndrome, it’s real.
The more I step out of that silent box, the more my inner critic tries to peek through.
The more I raise my voice for my truth, that burden of “silence protects” tries to scream louder than before.
I’ve held my breath for far too long.
Bit my tongue more times than I should “to keep the peace.”
I’ve stood frozen in spots I should have walked away from.
Acknowledging what was is not what is has been a work in progress.
These mini steps that have turned into big steps have been exhausting yet fulfilling.

Imposter Syndrome, it’s real.
It does not define me, nor will ever define my character. I will not allow such. This voice will now be told across all the noise.
My truth will inspire.
I will gracefully inhale and exhale this breath of mine.
My tongue will no longer hold scars.
I will no longer stand frozen, for I’ve defrosted a long time ago.
What was is just that, was. What is, is just that, is.
These big steps I’ve created have gotten me so far. To this moment.
Bigger steps are being made.

Imposter Syndrome, it is real.
But, it is not me!

Fire rages, winds howl, homes turn to ash in minutes.
Who do we call in these moments, when hope feels like fiction?
Thoughts and prayers? They crumble like dry leaves,
While houseless numbers triple under the Winter Sun’s freeze.

The fighters are few, their strength stretched thin,
Jailhouse volunteers can’t rival the flames’ ruthless spin.
Insurance retreats—policies denied, claims unspoken—
And the ones who survive are left shattered, broken.

Floods rise, hurricanes roar, tornadoes strip the land bare.
How much destruction before climate change gets its share?
When do we face the truth staring us down:
The earth is on fire, and our leaders let it drown?

Shelter is a myth for the ones disabled,
No ramps, no access—their survival disabled.
Fire, Earth, Air, Water—we’re crumbling, unbound,
Where is our Avatar to bring balance around?

But heroes don’t come; we’re left to our fight.
Preparedness isn’t a dream—it’s a right.
Billionaires feast while the people burn,
The rubble rises, yet they never learn.

Not Katniss to spark the flames of rebellion,
Not a Mockingjay’s cry, but the voice of a million.
We live in a nation conquered by greed,
An empire of Siths who plant poisoned seeds.

Taxes drain us, sweat and blood flow,
And all we’re handed is a “thoughts and prayers” show.
But this is no act; this is our soil.
A history of neglect, injustice, and toil.

Help us, America, stand with resolve.
This is not disaster; this is a wound long evolved.
Let us rise for the innovators and minds unborn,
To build a world where futures aren’t scorned.

For if we wait, the fire will consume,
Leaving nothing but ash to scatter our bloom.

I’m excited to announce a new project I’ve been working on called the Realistic Newspaper. It is a publication filled with stories from my anonymous peers, as I have kept their identities private for confidentiality. 

The Realistic Newspaper features relatable stories, giving everyone a voice to share their experiences. It serves as a safe space for those who want to express their ideas and thoughts. With their permission, I’m dedicated to helping these stories be heard.

I’ve created a QR code that leads to the Realistic Newspaper. You can either scan it or copy and paste the link, and the newspaper will appear. To view it in full screen, simply click the link, and you will have access to the Realistic Newspaper. If you need the QR please don’t hesitate to reach out.

I aim to create a second edition to further expand on people’s stories and provide a platform for even more voices in need of expression.

No justice no peace
That’s what they are screaming
in the streets
No justice no peace
The streets run red
While they back the blue
They don’t bat an eye
Because a wall matters
more than life
No justice no peace
That’s what the mothers
are crying in the streets
The streets flood
With innocent blood
Hard to say their
Names when
You’re still at the first sentence
They say we’re guilty
Because our skin holds
no innocence
They say we need repentance
No justice no peace
That’s what the brothers
are screaming in the streets
Broken glass and broken skull
Love is something that
became void and null
Bitterness and hatred
flood our streets
No more white sheets
The enemy has a badge and
a tailored suit
No justice no peace
Time to break the lease
Move from the apartments
Of pain and injustice
To the suburbs of righteousness and truth
No justice no peace
Let these words be
Proof of the prophecy
Of I’m not liable to say what we won’t do
No justice no peace
I fell to my knees
Came back purring
Ready to lead
My people to freedom
For the sake
of the kingdom
No justice no peace
Because they said it is “just us”
Free Palestine
Free Sudan
Free the Congo
Creation is crying
Don’t act like you don’t know
If you don’t like what I said
That’s fine because
I’m ready to the die for mine
I’m tired of my people crying
Government scamming and exploiting
The poor for money
We already know they lying
They bombing children
They are conducting massive genocide
They throwing stones
And then run and hide
To play victim
it’ll all work out
Like it’s the people
And not the system
And when we stand together
We are impervious
That’s the shit
That makes these
Colonizers nervous
No justice no peace
Don’t sell me no dream
Of mansions and gold-paved streets
For an afterlife
While I live in
A world built with lies
Pain, agony, and strife
You sell me everlasting life
And then take my life
Say we believe in the same
God
Yet you treat us like
Enemies
I thought we were supposed
to be kin
Your neighbor, brother, and friend
No justice no peace

I can remember the feeling clearly. I can still taste it, I can still feel the weight of it dragging on my heels, filling my lungs, and chilling my bones.
I am grateful I made it out alive, because looking back I can see that I needed serious help, but help was not coming for me.
I lived with severe depression, suicide ideation, low self esteem, and a handful of other BPD/BP symptoms that went undiagnosed for years.
I was never introduced to the idea of coping skills, boundaries, self care, and I had never heard of things like self fulfilling prophecies, victim mindsets, and justification/avoidance/etc. I wish someone would have brought these things to life, because I think I may have realized sooner that I wasn’t alone or the one to blame for the awful sadness that clawed at my chest like some tortured animal.
I began self-harming as a form of punishing myself. I believed that I was selfish for even breathing. I hated myself so much that I truly, truly believed that I deserved to get hurt and I should feel guilty because if I loved my family then I wouldn’t poison their life by being present in it.
Often I would fall asleep in tears, praying to wake up as someone else or to not wake up at all.
It breaks my heart sometimes when I look back. As a child, I just wanted to be loved and important, and as a teen, I just wanted to be loved and beautiful.
I wanted to be beautiful more than anything.
To me, beauty was something unattainable and far away.
I really was an ugly duckling , so to speak. I don’t believe there are more than 3 photos of me from the time I was in 2nd grade to about 5th.
The summer before 2nd grade my babysitter decided to shave my hair off. On top of being malnourished and having extreme dental issues, having no hair was enough to push me to become a social outcast.
Those little kids treated me like I wasn’t even human.
But every day I woke up just hoping to have a good day. I could forgive my worst enemies without blinking. Every day I just wanted to have a good day.
But I started fighting a lot, partly because the other kids thought I was a boy and partly because I wouldn’t tolerate being bullied any longer. After some months went by, even the adults at school and around public spaces were confused about my gender, and a few had even asked me to stop saying I was a girl.
I felt betrayed and confused. I learned during that time that I could hurt people back if they insulted me, and that love is conditional to beauty.
I moved away after 7th grade for 2 years but was forced to move right back.
They acted like I was a completely different person.
Now people suddenly expected me to be female?
I couldn’t hang out with the guys anymore, and if I did they were trying to throw game at me? I couldn’t wear whatever I wanted anymore because people couldn’t control themselves? I’m supposed to do my hair and makeup and wear dresses and walk in heels now?
Deep down I yearned to be in touch with that femininity that had been denied to be so long ago, but it was hard.
I tried to be grateful, because I knew some people’s journey required surgery and years of hormone therapy. To be told your something that you know your not and trying to play pretend as something else causes a pain I can’t describe, so even though I was secretly relieved I wasn’t sure how to just “be a girl.”
I obsessed over my appearance, I would often stare at my reflection until tears welled in my eyes and whisper to myself these horrible things like, “you’re so freakin ugly. No wonder your mother drinks all the time. No wonder everyone hates you. Your so freaking stupid look at you. I wish so much that I could just beat you up, I hate you so much.”
… It was just one vicious cycle after another.

There are a lot of factors that led to my escape from the prison of that perspective.
But the main one I want to share happened on my own.
Its strange, because now I am considered “hot.” Sometimes I even feel beautiful, but not a whole lot. That’s okay with me, though. I wish that the younger me could feel even the small approvals I give myself, even the smallest kindnesses… But it wasnt until the day I came to this conclusion that any of my self esteem started to change.
I realized… There are worse things to be than ugly.
It may sound ridiculous or even obnoxiously obvious… But this thought had never actually occured to me before.b
There are better things to be than pretty. There are worse things to be than ugly.
I mean, id been through some of them. Being lost in the woods, feeling heartbroken, searching for a missing person that you care deeply about, losing a parent to prison, and being miserable were just a few of the things that I went through personally that I decided in that moment were much worse than being ugly.
This was a breakthrough.
I don’t NEED to be pretty. Sure I want to but do I NEED to be?
Hell no.
I was tired of chasing people’s love, tired of wasting so much energy on their approval. I was just plain tired.
I realized that people couldn’t see right through me. They couldn’t see the damage beneath the surface.
The day I stopped caring if I was ugly or beautiful changed my life. Because that’s the day I started caring about if my life was beautiful or not. I started caring about what I was doing and not about if others cared.
This led me to getting some painful dental surgeries that ended with dentures and a normal smile, some crazy tattoos, and a few hair color choices I could have left in the bottle but mostly it led me to freedom.
I don’t know if my story is unique or if anyone else out there is trapped by the beauty myth… But just in case I’ll say it again:
Beauty does not define value.
Others do not define your beauty.
Your value is yours to see and appreciate. You set the bar for how you will be treated and respected.
Beauty does not define importance, power, or entitlement.
Beauty is not just appearance.
Love yourself, you will see the change in your reflection yourself.
You are beautiful, you are worthy, and you are human.
There are so many worse things to be than ugly.
-a horrible person
-attacked by wolves
-evil and cruel
-dying
-mean
-lost
-sad
-going through the motions
-uncaring, inconsiderate
-starving
Etc. Etc. etc.

I was strong… Loneliness so deep, like the sea.
I was strong—I didn’t need nobody.
I was so strong, I needed everybody.
I was strong enough to pass as Happy-Go-Lucky,
Even when the cracks showed under the weight.

But strength, they say, isn’t always a gift.
Being “The Strong Black Woman”—what a cruel myth.
A title dressed in resilience but laced with chains,
Hiding the truth of my heart’s quiet pains.

I was strong, even when they looked past me,
Strong, even when disregard was all they’d see.
Strong enough to hold the world,
Yet too strong to be held myself.

They called me strong like it was praise,
But strength became my cage in so many ways.
No room for tears, no space for need,
Just a shell of power, a soul to bleed.

But what of my vulnerability?
Why is softness seen as fragility?
I’ve learned that strength isn’t just standing tall,
It’s also knowing when to let yourself fall.

I am both—strong and tender, bold and unsure,
A mixture of fire and water, pain and cure.
I am whole, not in spite of my duality,
But because I embrace all that makes me me.

So don’t call me strong if it means I must break.
See me as human, for my own sake.
Strength isn’t a shield; it’s a choice to be free,
To honor both the strength and softness in me.

The ghost of “us” still lingers, a haunting refrain,
A melody of memories, a bittersweet pain.
I grieved for the future we’d never attain,
Two souls entwined, then severed in twain.

We’re like two planes in the sky, headed in two different directions,
A near hit or miss, a fleeting connection.
I gave it all I had before I ever decided to quit.
Deep within the depths of my heart, you’re someone I’ll always miss.

But the weight of “what ifs” began to erode,
A heavy cloak of sorrow, a lonely road.
I knew I deserved better, a love that would unfold,
A story where my spirit wouldn’t grow cold.

So I broke the chains, shattered the illusion,
Found the strength within, a silent revolution.
Each step forward, a victory, a new constitution,
Rebuilding myself, a slow, steady evolution.

The sting of regret still lingers, a phantom limb,
But I’m learning to breathe, to finally swim.
In the ocean of life, I’m no longer adrift,
I’ve found the courage to rise, to finally shift.

Truth be told, we’re better off apart,
But our connection is one that genuinely touched my heart.

I heard some call me as I wandered down market street and turned and it was her, hair in a puff no make-up seemingly like God knew I needed someone and somewhere so he sent her. She asked me where I was staying and it took months before I told her I had been homeless up until that moment. it wasn’t like a match made in heaven but she opened me to experiences I had never had. It really pains me to write this but I feel as though it needs to be addressed. We drank together and argued almost every moment of the day. Until one day i decided to leave. and i left and met another woman who was amazing and who i truly fell in love with. we were so comfortable around each other it made no sense. I was on the run from probation at the time and they came to her house thanks to my ex I sat 4 months and i was released. Skip 14 months and I’m in a Florida prison facing charges that are the result of insurance fraud and if i didn’t get out i would’ve spent the rest of my life there. Unbeknownst to myself EVERYBODY I loved or called a friend brother or family: Knew. I was charged with a DUI and a simple resisting arrest. She allowed me to drive a rental car that was under her sisters military insurance that the police report documented as totaled that according to State law if you are driving a rental vehicle that doesn’t belong to you, even if you were given consent to drive said vehicle IF that consent was forced or given out of fear you can be charged with grand theft auto.depending on the value of the car and the damages done to said vehicle. 750.00$ but valued under 20,000$: Third degree-5 years in prison.
Valued at 20,000$ or more but below 100,000$ 15 years in prison. the particular vehicle i was driving according to said police report was valued OVER 100,000$ and qualified me for the maximum penalty of a whopping 30 years. Family reluctantly posted my bond and upon uncovering this information left me in my current state being the enemy of america. I have kept silent for quite some time now but the justice system contiues its illegal and unrelenting assault. This woman I was engaged to was involved in a usaa insurance fraud ring and I know all about it.

Hey you ;
Thank you ;
Thank you for being here ;
Thank you for creating Truth that keeps the noose loose as you choose to continue through the fears ;
Thank you for trying your best even when it seems like every seam that holds yourself together has been Severed and ripped to shreds ;
Thank you for trying your best even when it seems like everything you’re thinking is like a hoarders dream, thoughts of a convoluted mess ;
Thank you for trying your best even when things that are in and out of your control seem to spin out of control, and you try to hold on to the right when it seems like there’s nothing left ;
Thank you for staying alive, even though every day seems like a daily struggle just to survive ;
Thank you for choosing to resume these pages of life, even when you’re burnt up and exhausted and no longer want to write ;
Thank you for being here ;
Thank you for being you ;
Sincerely true ;
From me to you ;
Thank you ;
;

Spring, not sprung.

People can look like they’re fine, but inside they’re crying.
Many are trying, too many dying, I’m flying on some parachute of prayers.
To the God’s who will listen. To the points of the cardinal directions.
I look up and no longer see Orion who has always been my protector.

My hands fall short of magic. My generosity exceeds in deeds, grateful to bless, but somehow not enough to me. I know life is unalome, never even keel- my path made me stronger, wounds have healed.
Although the deeper I dive, the pain becomes real. I deal. I’ve observed on every level, inhaled, exhaled and weighed it on the scales. It tips. Balance is off-
When the whole world is upside down and right side up, I still live in my bubble. When I’m lost, I retreat. No white flag, no olive branch, no phone calls, just me- in the corner with a pen and paper, crying. For everyone I’ve lost, for everyone I’ve ever loved and had to walk away from, for everyone who bears the weight on their shoulders but wakes up and smiles at the world, I am you.

Spring, but not sprung.

Let me feel the rain on my face as I know it waters the flowers that blossom in the spring.

I miss my family and friends who are in another realm. Let their energy protect mine. Allow me to shine like gold in a river on sunny day.

I need my magic or I am useless.

To the God’s~ Please protect us.

the clockmaker’s bride

they can’t go where i go,
they can’t see what i see,
they don’t know what i know,
that can’t be what i be//i believe i’ve been living for myself- i have been living for life.

knowledge that belongs to you will find you.
what’s yours will come to you.
the focus on the future blinds you from the opportunities you are surrounded with today.
you would not be in this space if you weren’t wanted.

so why do i feel like you’re trying to prove yourself? your worth?
what is there to earn//i have nothing to give
are you entitled to the approval of others//are you too ashamed of your experiences to approve of yourself?

is it your experiences that make you, you?
is it your beliefs that makes you, you?
is it your actions that makes you, you?
what is there in the world that you claim as the creation of others//i claim that which i create
i don’t know.
i have no clue to be entirely honest.
consider this: am i what you decide to call me, or am i what i say i am because i’ve decided to be?

in one way or another, existence supposes definition,
you are something to someone, even if that someone is the ground you walk on. the plant life you trample over with the careless entitlement to destroy.
are you going to allow yourself to be defined?

frankenstein’s monster. he does not have a name because his creator never gave him one. although he could decide to name himself and shape his own identity, he could never cut the ties that bind to his father. the bond is why you seek approval. the bond is why apathy is worse than disapproval; those who are not acknowledged are the ones that destroy. you need to be responsible for everything you create, whether it be art, technology, literature, or life.

never give your creations to the world to be defined by the world,
they will never deserve what you are.
in approval or disapproval, acknowledge what you’ve done.
thank accountability for it,
take ownership of it,
the way every influence in your life have taken ownership of you,
how they’ve taken care of you,
how they’ve hurt you,
remember how you felt,
remember the feeling,
some people have nothing to feel,
i implore you to be intentional in your interactions with others//be intentional about how you make them feel,
how you make yourself feel.
you may be the reason someone in this world is lonely,
remember how you’ve felt in the deepest chasm of your limitless,
to whom/what you wanted to take ownership of it,
your friends, your parents, your lover, yourself, your gods?
now think of who you are to others, a friend known for being reliable, a child known for being grateful, a lover known for making someone feel whole, a creation grateful for who’s grateful for being created?
privileged.
who are you to abandon what you’ve created.

“i know all about the pain that you go through” – Gustav Ahr

Dear Unsealed,
Do we know of tomorrow?
What is our fate
Before it is too late?
We step into the sorrow
Of tomorrow
From today
From yesterday
You look at me.
You look at the sea,
The ocean,
The mountains so high,
I ask why,
Why are we being forced to hate?
Stop the hate,
Before it’s too late!
Redundancy of words
As we slip into the absurd
Emotions run wild
Into streams of confusion of a style
Of rhetoric that bleeds
Society, all the while
The rich smile
Laughing at us as we walk a mile
To nowhere.
I swear,
We all will see the truth.
We will be uncouth.
We all need to look inside our heart
To make a fresh start
We will crowd into hiding places
Without traces
To drink our coffee,
Our weed,
Our liquor,
Our drinks of illusion
Within illusions
Of whom we are as coffers
And seeds
Of destruction of time and space
As we know it to be.
We see the sea.
We see the ocean.
We see the notion
Of the weaker
Rich souls of dark liquor
Of weaker not thicker
Illusions created by the rich
To throw the poor in a ditch
Is not what you believe
Cause you all were deceived.
Until the rocket launches,
Until the seeds we sowed,
In the soil of Earth
As human beings of birth
Life and death.
Wealth is an illusion too,
As I do intend to make them blue
As we all learn lessons of life
As our souls will strive
To feel the light,
To feel alive,
As we travel through time and space
Of life of advice,
To live again,
To love again.
We will win the game,
Of chess
In the mess
Of change of the rich
Ditch
The poor
As prices soar.
I personally will have faith to pray
To the universe of omnipotent love and sunshine days
To come
Under the sun.
I write as my thoughts flow
With my brain spewing thoughts into word
To flow
To sow seeds
Of high not low
Concepts of truth,
We will sigh,
How did we fall for the lie?
The sun shines beyond the rainbow
Of clouds and space.
The time rhymes
With love, joy, and peace,
After the dark clouds go away
As we release
The dark to greet the light
Of the day
Along the way
Of life’s highway
Lights shine through darkness.
What is,
What was,
Is now what is,
Cause
Life goes on.
Peace to carry on!
Carry a torch to spread our light,
So bright,
Into the night
Breathe!

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”.