I don’t want to say much because it’s going into my deeper writing, but I need to process. I’ve sworn not to go back to private blogging, so I’m putting a thought here in my most innocuous place, which kind of makes me laugh since the very nature of being aspie has been the most annoying thing about me all of my life. I rarely come to this blog to share publicly. What you haven’t seen so far this month is me grinding through about 15,000 words of the most gloriously beautiful emotionally difficult word construction I’ve ever done.
Everything I’m doing is about revenge, sadness, tragic love stuff. The loneliness of being alive eats us, whispers to us, seduces us. I have learned how powerful being still is, choosing the sweetness of cruelty, and the cruelty of truth. I have learned how to love without reward, sacrifice secretly, and fling myself joyfully off the raging waterfall without fear.
This month was a final puzzle piece. As it clicked into place, the tortured artwork that is my life lit up like stained glass on a dark winter night, and I saw myself.
I’ve known for a long time it was possible, but getting here has been a ragged weary journey filled with darkness so thick for so long that the only way I could keep after it was making the choice to believe in myself. Every day I’ve had to remind me to believe in myself, in what I’m doing. This can’t get done if I don’t do it, and this is what I’m on this earth to do.
If you knew your words could save lives, change history, alter how society thinks- would you write them down? If it took years and years and all the anguish your heart and soul could hold, beyond breaking, beyond hope- would you hang in there until you could reach a place where all the words could come out? Would you believe it even if you couldn’t see any chance of it ever happening?
I wasn’t born with an innate ability to communicate well. To say it most succinctly- aspie learned. And soon aspienado will touch down and blow on the earth.
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