Tag: neurodiversity

Where the bedframe ends

There is a place where the bedframe ends
And before the rest of the world begins,
And there my queendom’s shelter and light,
And there my pillowy throne room’s might,
And there snacks, books, and art supply,
Are my world—a reality out of print.

Let me stay in this place of eternal snacks
And during the dark I can Zoom my friends.
Pots on the windowsill where my house plants grow
Where the outside ledge feeds a friendly crow.
And I watch there the chalk-white chemtrails go
To a place where the sun burns hot.

Yes I will keep feeding my friendly crow
And will worry about burning too much CO(2).
For I am scared for the rest of the world to know
Of my place where the bedframe ends.

Well you may have guessed: a rejiggling of Shel Silverstein's "Where the sidewalk ends" with a lot of his words incorporated.
a super cosy (with slightly too furry pillows) bed surrounded by a bedframe with fairy lights and a milky glass wall in the back with green palm trees behind it
Photo by Tan Danh on Pexels.com

Don’t Quit

Never quit because someone asks why
Your weird and wonderful hobby
Dancing in the rain
Singing it loud
Hugging a tree
Talk to strange cats
Smell a flower
Buy more fabric
Buy more paint
Even if you don’t know the dress or quilt yet
Even if you cannot yet see the painting

Don’t let others’ ‘Why?’
Stop your joy*





*(Well obviously as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. Just in case you are looking for an excuse here.)

A Bad ADHD Day

I hickle-dee-pickled my way through the day
Bumping my toes exclaiming: ‘Au weh!’
Loosing my coffee somewhere in the house
Making a new one to douse my fresh blouse
I rush to a meeting on–Zoom have you guessed?
Before I continue my lost coffee quest
I remember a deadline and curse beep beep bip
Before hyperfocus has me in its very tight grip
After hours in a high productivity zone
My stomach develops a life on her own
And shouts very loudly: ‘You’ve forgotten to eat.’
And drags the rest of my body up on her feet
On my new quest for munchies to stop hunger’s stitch
Guess what? I found my coffee cup on top of the fridge
My phone alarm shouts at me out of the blue
What did I set this for? I haven’t a clue!
Nothing to be done to remember that now
A lunchtime walk will make things better I vow
Just my luck today seems a bit bad
I now look like a duly drowned rat
I sit in my next meeting hair still dripping
The conversations are also less than ripping
That could have been an email
I silently wail
Which I would forget to answer without much fail
At least working from home makes a lot of things better
I don’t have to pretend that noises don’t matter
The office clocks ticking, pens clicking
In general all the people’s noise emitting
An email pings, my emotions cow
‘Oh no, what have I done wrong now?’
Or forgotten, lost, broken, maybe misplaced
Oh check this out! Someone is sending me praise!
I cry for a little
Yes, I can be that brittle
Taking a sip from the cup I hold
Yerch that coffee is now really cold

I have been accused of being Neurotypical

Not a poem needed a bit of a rant. So here it is.

Now that was a new one. My first proper Twitter tiff … after 10 years or so not bad I would say. The person had asked why I didn’t like that us rainbow-brains (ASD, ADHD, Dyslexia, Dyspraxia etc) are called learning disabilities. So silly me did not check their profile before answering–otherwise I would not have. They make a business (speaker and writer) out of their ‘learning disabilities’, which is fair enough in principle. Being a champion, promoting strategies and support, and being able to use this to support your living is wonderful.

In principle.

It turns sour though, the moment this champion-hood becomes a tokenistic self-proliferation. And the person was so eager to pick a fight so show to the world how much they defend their corner, that they never even bothered to click on my Twitter profile, which clearly has the hashtag on it. And immediately shouted in typing–you know the way internet trolls do this, telling me off for not having a learning-disability. (I agree I have ADHD and clearly this has not stopped me from learning). And then went immediately into some sort of abuse aimed at one of the people they so prolifically claim to defend and support–and sell their books to.

One of the things I thought was interesting was that their first reaction was to state that there is no shame in that medical diagnosis. Hm. Strange. I have not mentioned shame or anything. I think learning disability is an outdated term, that implies a deficit discourse, and is not a helpful framing of the amazing world of rainbow brains. Anyway, shame was not on my mind, but on theirs. Now I can only see two reasons:
first is that this is a go to phrase for their business brand as the defender of neurodiversity or
second, that they actually do feel shame and hence the emotional overreaction to the points I made.
If the latter that would make me feel sad but also once again makes my point that the terminology is not helpful.

The other aspect I wondered about if the label of disability is good for their business as it helps them to continue the discourse of victimisation, and hence justifies them as a defender of the weak, the meek, and needy, instead of empowerment. And the deficit model this is based on works much better as a marketing tool (I need to add in their specific case, because of their business, not as a generalisation)? Am I being too cynical? The only reason to keep the disability label would be for legal protection and right to support in the workplace. But I so loathe the label. Why are we so keen to put people into shiny tiny boxes? Why don’t we celebrate diversity and make sure to create a society that is more accessible?

11 ADD (ADHD) Frustrations

1 Spills

When you covered half the house in towels to dye your hair
And the dye finds 10 uncovered square inches to drip onto and stain for ever

Why can I not just be clean and tidy? It’s not that difficult! Come on.

2 Bruises

When you ram full force into the edge of a wooden bench adding to innumerable bruises on your legs

Why did I not see that? What’s the problem with me?

3 Time

When you don’t know why it took you 1,5 hours to walk half a mile and what happened.

By the way: time–what’s all that about anyway?!

When you check your watch every two minutes on the way to an important meeting and arrive half an hour early.

This is just embarrassing.

4 Forgetting

When you just forget TICK to moisturize, check your emails, that apple in your bag, where your coffee cup has gone, what he just said, TICK oh and that sandwich in the bag, and that you put your dishes to soak in the staff kitchen…two days ago, TICK and now you are home in bed on a Friday evening, oh oh oh I meant to read this article, cut your nails, where that gum in your bag came from– it’s TICK soggy and the wrapper has dissolved, paint your nails but forget the second hand, to say good morning, to answer a question…

The most successful people have routines, and stick to them! Yeah. Sure. They don’t forget what they had decided to—oh bummer I was meant to call the dentist.

5 Messy

When you have various drinking utensils TICK spread across the house because you forgot you already had one; or you TICK need one for coffee, one for water, and a herbal tea would be nice, too … TICK oh and look there is Fentimans lemonade. We don’t have enough cups.

I love photos of tidy houses. I adore tidy houses. I feel like I am in a battle every single day. So far the war has not yet been won by me. It makes me feel inadequate.

6 Awareness

When someone less assertive asks you for something TICK in the middle of a conversation and it does not reach TICK–oh my pencil is so nice and smooth, TICK look how the lines change depending on the pressure I use; it looks really grainy; can I make the grainy go away, and make the drawing smooth?

I literally do not hear it. It’s not even that I ignore it. It never reaches the spheres of consciousness. I am so ashamed. I do not want to ignore someone.

7 Talking

When you hear yourself talk obsessively TICK but you can’t stop. If I try to stop my head would explode. Seriously, like in Dogma when God speaks. I am still talking about something really important TICK work related, probably over-explaining some theories. And this is the best movie-ending ever! Meph. Love it. O.k. colleagues are taking notes and I think I am TICK done with talking through the 3D mindmap in my head so the physical pressure in my head and my tummy-pain are gone. Meph. TICK Seriously, so funny. Is this how to spell mep?

I wish I could stop. I try sitting on my hands. Taking notes in old scripts. Doodle. And I still will interrupt someone in the middle of their sentence. 

8 Memory

You find yourself desperately digging for any recollection of the thing that less assertive person mentioned TICK in the middle of a conver…It’s so great that most of my colleagues, look straight at me and explicitly state what they want to know or to do. This clock is so damn loud.

By the way: ticking clocks in all offices? Have you ever heard of Chinese torture?

TICK TICK

TICKTICKTICKTICKTICKTICK

SCREAM

Yes. I actually took Alzheimer tests online because it is so bad. The memory. TICK doesn’t help.

9 Clumsy

The glass just slipped out of my hand, and yes the alphabet noodles on the kitchen floor look as if a dictionary committed suicide. I swear just yesterday that button was there, under this tab … I don’t know where it has gone. TICK

I should just set up cameras around the place for some good old slapstick.

10 White Noise

The white noise in my head so loud. Desperately trying to catch something that has a shape, a smell, a colour, a sound, a story, an emotion. Something, please something tangible. More input drowns in noise. My skin feels as if the epidermis is missing. It burns; there are too many smells, feelings, noises, faces, colours encroaching. I love semicolons; they stand for flow; there is never truly an end to a sentence.

So anxious. Painful. Scary.

11 Anxiety

Panic. Team away day. Means: a night spend running ptsd like flashbacks of faces, snippets of communication, bowling alley: do you want to kill me with sensory overload? Coming out of the underground in Time Square (NYC), breaking stuff in Rock Cafe shop into which you fled to have time to figure out which way is up, collapsing in ASDA finding yourself on the floor, your ears ringing, it’s all flashes of colour, smell, light, noise. The world began to wobble. My place within the noisy wobble became lost. The ground is reassuring.

Mindfulness. Gym. Knitting. Music. Writing. Drawing. Dancing. Singing. Just going out: up the mountains, into the hills, into the freezing sea, on the bike, on my feet. All that helps.