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Congratulations, You’re Autistic!

You’re autistic! The words I’ve been waiting to hear for over thirty-one years. To have my whole existence validated and understood. Finally!

Today I had my official autism assessment. And I cried. It was a huge relief. It’s been a long journey to get to this moment. Just hearing the words “yes, you’re autistic” felt like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. I finally felt heard. And that’s a powerful thing!

Thirty-One

Every year, I write a blog post on the night before my birthday, reflecting on the year that has passed. It’s a wonderful way to look back on my life and see how much has changed, how much I have changed.

Being thirty has been a wonderful experience. I remember spending a lot of time in my twenties worrying about reaching the start of this decade. I had the preconceived idea that being in my thirties meant the end of my youth or that I was running out of time to create the life I wanted for myself. But it has felt like the opposite of that for me. My thirties feel like a resurgence. Like I am finally becoming more comfortable with who I am.

Thirty

Tomorrow is my 30th birthday.

Every year, on the night before my birthday, I write a post about my year. I’ve been doing this for ten years now. I write and reflect on my life and it’s a tradition that has stayed with me since I started this blog during my time at university. In preparing for this post, I read the last few entries for twenty-seven, twenty-eight and twenty-nine and I marvel at how my life has been shaped into this beautiful new story, with new characters, new opportunities and new twists and turns. That is all we really are. Stories. I am going to continue to tell mine because words are my legacy, every word I put down is something to leave behind, long after I’m gone. But I’m not going anywhere. I feel like I am only getting started.

A Published Poet

We are living in uncertain times at the moment. What better way to unite people than with the...

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Impending

Feet curl over the edge of the cliff, close to flying ready to soar, heart of a drum. Anticipation brews in my sinking stomach. Time is a flutter: the future is impending. Success is sickly sweet but love is my greatest accomplishment so far. The rest will come. The...

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Walking Stardust

Walking Stardust Breathing in the warmth of your skin, your eyelashes flutter like petals, sleeping. I stare into the dusty black room. Light creeps through the blinds. Hitting the wall with its luminous glow. A romantic feeling pulses through the layers of my skin. I...

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Foreign Words

My eyes are derelict. Infant and fresh. Absorbing foreign words, foreign faces. My mother tongue, tangled, twisted, amongst vowels of confusion. Their faces shine with welcoming eyes. A barrier present, cold and strange. Muttering, handshakes, kisses – swapped and...

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Street Corners

Caution lurks behind every street corner. In the early morn. Dusty blue and sapphire ignite, forming patterns in the sky. Panting heart quickens. Racing even, mimicking dangers that - Do. Not. Exist. Heightened fear in the darkness. Over the bridge, water resembles –...

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Poetry Is

Poetry is freedom. Poetry is emotion. Poetry will always be whatever you choose for it to be. It is hard to define poetry because poetry can be anything you want it to be. It can be one word placed in the middle of a page. It can be fifteen pages long if you want it...

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Forgive

Turning the corner alone, you left behind. A daughter whose words were wise and kind. Ripping apart all that is known. Now all that is left is skin and bone. The heart will heal, but respect is lost. Change can have an unforgivable cost. Desires of the future will...

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White Butterfly

Elegant symbol catches the light. Ready to soar. Wings expanding. Flooded with freedom. Any place is home. Partners with blue Friends with green. One second to admire her beauty. One minute later you remember her. The white queen of nature. Restricted creature, that...

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Waiting

Waiting for the train to arrive. Page waiting to be turned. A freshly printed novel. Waiting to be desired by wise eyes. A canvas of white, longing for colour. Patches of fresh white snow unmarked by nature. Waiting for the rain to fall. A gathering of clouds aiming...

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Southern Sun

Hitting the cold pavement with my flip-flops. Southern sun. Beating down on my pale exterior. Soft whispers in the wind, tranquillity, warmth. Waves reaching toes of joyful children. Hospitality exchanged. Strangers have welcoming smiles. Trees hold hands, cooling...

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Girl In Yellow

Livestock rushing thirty degrees. Overpopulated streets, American phrases. I can feel the warmth on my curious face. In the moment, in the moment. Hit in the shoulder, I fall to the concrete. Mannerisms or just plain rudeness? It’s almost time for the light to start...

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