February 2020

Location– 
My 21st birthday celebration 
At a local bar & restaurant. 

I ate, drank, was all around 
Merry, 
Just how it should be on 
The night where I was free 
To indulge. 

What I thought would be a night to remember
For that reason alone, has now taken on New meaning. 

This was the last time I was out before COVID Took control of the world and shoved all Patrons previously seated at the bar 
Into their homes for an isolated year. 

I recall sitting closely at the crowded bar,
A close friend next to me as we chatted
About and enjoyed my 
Newfound freedom of drink choice. 

Now, that memory nearly tickles the hair
On the back of my neck, 
Send tingles out my fingertips thinking
Of close proximity without face coverings,
Of massive gathering with no care 
In the world. 

For the world is changed now, 
Most likely forever in the face of 
A sly virus. 

I have never been met with so much uncertainty In my day to day life.

It was always 

School 
Work 
Home 
Friends 
Repeat 

My birthday served as a marker, 
Is now a perfectly encased memory, as if in a treasured snowglobe,
Of how the world was before a tidal wave of uncertainty
And terror and fear rode in during the Ides of March. 

How fitting-the Ides of March…. 
Are we simply just repeating 
History on a loop? 
The flu pandemic of 1919, 
Nearly a century later… 

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

-George Santayana

#ActuallyAutistic

Letters 
Simple lines and angles 
Put together in such a way 
That evolved my 
Entire life. 

Now words 
To ascribe to life experiences 
that previously, words eluded me. 

Suddenly, a jumbled alphabet soup 
Has made my entire life make sense, 
Given context to the story of my existence. 

No longer am I book set in an 
Unknown universe, 
With faceless characters and 
Plot holes at every ginger step. 

No, for I now know who I am: 

A
U
T
I
S
T
I
C

Discovered during the time 
The world around me quieted; 
Like it was meant to be, a 
Tandem halting– 

Society’s buzz softened 
In the midst of true terror 
While my mind yielded to the idea
Of Difference 

But a Difference that explained 
To me– 

That all my life I was a square peg
Desperately trying to shove myself Into a circular space 
Without any awareness of my squareness.
No name for my uniquely shaped existence;
Simply just the persistent feeling 
Of otherness and unbelonging. 

Chipped from years of trying to fit
In a space not designed for my shape,
For my neurology, 
I crafted a beautiful mask 
To hid the places where 
My wood had been broken off 
And areas where scuff marks and
Scratches lived on my body. 

The Mask– 
A tool of survival and safety, 
In my eyes a necessity, 
Truly only hid my struggles, 
Never solved them. 

The Mask– 
While it allowed others to gloss over
My autistic way of being,
Only served to suffocate 
My true self, 
Only held back the light 
I was meant to shine forth. 

The psychologist’s words, tumbling from his mouth and 
Crawling towards my ears, 
Changed my viewpoint on life, 
Provided musical notes of context 
To the staff of my life 
During the cacophony of a 
Global pandemic. 

“Overall, it does seem more likely than not that her symptom profile would meet the criteria for an ASD… she conceptually seems to best fit for a likely ASD…” 

Quirky, weird, strange 
Bad 
No more– 

Simply and actually 
Autistic.

Things that stink -

1. My heart, the organ pumping liquid life into my physical form, plummeting as glassy eyes, scattered and frantic, race across the screen displaying a headline that seems fantastical but is indeed reality: “The Toll: America Approaches Half a Million COVID Deaths.” 

2. Bodies into the ground post-fight with the deadly virus 

3. The mask down my face as I rush to finish my errands, keeping distance at all times from strangers who do the same. I am afraid of others even more than pre-pandemic.

4. Masks again, but on the faces of those who believe the pandemic is all a hoax, so they wear them around their chins on purpose. A sign of rebellion to them, a sign of lack of care for others to me.“Love thy neighbor as thyself” these Christians proclaim at Sunday service, yet in practice, yield to different principles. 

5. Days on the calendar in 2020, one after another, fall from the label of future to present then to past. Reality as I know it seems to be tumbling from my hands, tickling my fingers on its way past my fingertips, like sand or flour falling across my skin. 

6. Stones I toss into the ponds near my house, alone, as always it seems to be nowadays, trying to pass the time of isolation away. 

7. Hope for an improved society of mutual care and respect that sinks lower each time I see Facebook fights happening in the comment sections of COVID posts. 

   Masks are here to take away my freedom, I’m not wearing them!” 

“They do nothing to protect us, why bother?” 

“The disabled can stay home for all I care, they belong there anyways…”

All I really hear amidst these callous words are– 

“I don’t care for my neighbor, I am selfish at my core.”

Essential

es·sen·tial 
/əˈsen(t)SHəl/ 

1. Adj: absolutely necessary; extremely important.
2. N: a thing that is absolutely necessary. 

A word to be stripped down 
Until it is bare boned. 

To the point I say 
Ask the real question… 

In this life, what is essential? 

Beyond laundry soap and crisp water and 
sweet fruit and soft wheat bread– 
What is essential to human life? 

In the era of quarantines and stay-at-home orders,
When they said I could only go out for essential errands,
What did they mean? 

Did they ponder the nature of human life and 
The varying definitions of essential? 

Nevertheless, the essence of the word remains constant
“Absolutely necessary” 

For me, essential extends beyond 
Physical objects of sustenance. 

Connection, companionship, community. 
Yes, indeed, these are critical tenants 
That I have built my life upon, 
And no virus can destroy 
My need for these.

Alas, though, 
Just because something is needed 
Is not enough to prop up tradition and continuation
In all winds of life. 

While connecting over ceramic coffee mugs
And close embraces with tight, 
Therapeutic squeezes against my back,
Are preferential, 
COVID times throw preference 
Out the window and urges desire to 
Float along the cool breeze at night. 

Swirling circumstances call for 
Novel ways of being, 
FaceTime calls and 
Strolls six feet apart. 

Connection looked different 
In the Year of Walks, 
But raw friendship never waivered 
Despite the daunting distance. 

Friends’ eyes still twinkled 
Behind cloth masks, 
Text messages took on new 
Worth and sentiment. 

For yes, in 
The Year of Walks 
We upheld the semantics of 
Essential.

On Feathered Beings and Being Disabled

On Feathered Beings and Being Disabled
Would be the title of my memoir. 
My obsession with those things, 
Squaking hoppers with beaks, 
Transcends beyond the eye 
Of relevance. 

Free to fly and roam, 
Unlike me. 
Captured within these same walls, 
Day beyond day, 
I wither from the 
Fear. 

What if anxieties 
I call them 
You know, the worries that 
Implore imagination to mix 
In a terrible manner with that of 
Reality. 

Panic clings to the meninges 
Of my brain, 
Sear an ungodly sensation throughout–
I am lying on the floor now, 
Consumed. 

Feet only function as tethers to the terror
Of the surface of the Earth. 
The sky therefore a solace for winged creatures, Separate from the instigator, 
From aggressors and parasites. 

What is so mysterious and enchanting about These animals to me? 

Is it the hollow bones that launch them

Beyond blossoming cherry treetops,
Among the backsplash of stars at night?
An experience so pristine in perfection
That one cannot be but at full tranquility.
Is it their freedom of tailspins in the sky
And trailing behind in jet streams
That I envy, 
For I am encased in an unlocked room
And not floating in the blue oasis? 

But am I myself bird-like to some degree? 

For I too 
Flap my arms against 
Harsh winds that threaten 
To expel me from the 
Sky of life. 

Their razor-like beaks that pick 
Like I do at my skin, 
When the nerves get heated 
And distraction is required. 

Their ache for release on a breezy afternoon When confinement to the nest 
Pulses restless energy throughout
Their bulging veins. 

Metamorphosis– 

My skin soon replaced 
By sleek feathers, sprouting 
From every which way. 
Soft lips now a hard beak, 
Arms give way to wings. 

I am brimming with perseverance And cannot fathom the fears 
Winning over me forever.
Transcend to the truth, 
Of safety from worries, riding
On a breeze. 

Weightless, 

Gravity is a myth.

Yes, Even This Too Shall Pass

April 4th, 2020 

It is day 11 of my state’s stay-at-home order. I began working from home this week and instructing students via video conference. I am adjusting to this new normal as best I can, yet it is still difficult. 

The past few days I have felt more symptomatic. Feelings of emptiness echo in my being, and I feel myself start to drift from the world around me. A feeling I know all too well finds me—depression. 

Like many others around the world, I find my mental health starting to sink due to the global pandemic we are facing. My normal routine has been put to a halt, and with this change comes panic. I do not adapt to change well or very quickly, typically leaving me functioning on autopilot. I do what is needed, but nothing else. I clock in and struggle through my work shift, with the occasional nudge or response task from Oliver in an attempt to keep me functional. I find myself rewatching old Grey’s Anatomy episodes, half paying attention. I feel trapped in a haze with no concrete way out. 

What am I doing to prevent a major depressive episode from occurring? I cope by distracting myself with hobbies like origami. I train Oliver, and feel proud watching him hit most of his commands perfectly. I talk with friends on the phone, which helps ground me in the present moment. I let myself feel my emotions rather than trying to eliminate them. 

I do not presume to know what your quarantine experience is like, but know mine and have discovered that finding joy in the littlest of things provides hope to me. I am currently listening to rain drizzle outside, with the scent of fresh rain pouring through my open window. I inhale and remind myself of the world that, despite the chaos ensuing in it now, is still moving. Flowers have spurted from the ground, announcing the arrival of spring. It is in these natural phenomenons that I find hope. The world hasn’t stopped spinning yet, and once again, with time, life will resume as we know it. Until then, I glance outside my window, maybe even lean out of it, take in the sights and sounds of it all, and breathe in hope. 

When going through my last depressive episode a mere couple of months ago, I constantly reminded myself that this too shall pass. That my feelings of doubt and despair would not last forever, even if mere minutes with my symptoms felt like an eternity. At the time, these words felt meaningless. I did not believe them, instead convinced that this episode would last for as far in the future as I could see. There seemed to be no way out of the burden of my illnesses,

and I felt doomed to live a life consumed by this monster. But it did, eventually, after adjusting medications and attending countless therapy sessions. 

I know that this pandemic too shall pass, even if it is months before quarantines stop and life starts to feel slightly normal again. Even then, social distancing practices might continue, and the thought of that terrifies me. Amidst all else going on in my life right now, I am trying to find peace with the circumstances of it all. Honestly, I am taking things day by day, sometimes hour by hour. I am taking my medications, having therapy sessions several times a week, and simply trying to make it through this collective trauma we are all experiencing together. I know we as a society will make it through to the other side, and I hope that with it comes change, particularly in regards to health care access and how the world views and values disabled lives. 

Until the end of this trauma, I send love to all and encourage you to remember that yes, even this too shall pass, even if in this moment it feels endless.

*** 

See the river glisten, see each molecule of H2O tightly packed with one another course among dark, textured rocks in the riverbed. The chemically composed blocks spread to everything–every twig, every long-lost leaf, every pebble and stone. We don’t know how long it will be like this, an all consuming invasion; an uprooting of life as we so knew it. The current is strong, but we, the people, are too. It will take more than rushing waters to sweep us permanently away, to knock us off our feet past the point of no return. 

While this touches everything, and therefore changes everything, we will stay steadfastly brave and rooted, like heavy rocks among sandy shores. Stone that has existed for thousands of years, and will stand another thousand more against the elements. For surely, winds, water, and fire cannot melt or destroy this amalgamation of earthly components. 

We are here to stay.