0 Blogging About Autism: The Alien in Me

Sunday, 15 November 2020

The Alien in Me

 The weight of PTSD and Autism combined (Poetry - Blog Post)


The Alien in Me 👽 




The struggle to fit in and understand conversation,

the want to be normal comes with a saddening realisation.

I can’t escape my alien.


She has been for years,

through all the pain and tears.

When being me was wrong,

when I didn’t  belong. 


I never found a way to cope,

often I lost hope.

When people saw a blank stare,

Danielle wasn’t even there.


I was off somewhere in my mind,

somewhere where people were kind. 

Somewhere where I could recharge and escape,

ruminate over why I couldn’t relate. 


To dissolve anxiety about what went wrong,

make sense of why I didn’t belong. 

Always on the verge of tears,

this despair has only deepened through the years. 


The same song looping through my mind,

always at an inconvenient time.


Why are you here? What is your purpose? 

Why does my brain push that to the surface?


I just want to complete a task.

Why my brain must I ask?

Sometimes I must beg.

I feel discomfort in my legs.


When I rested bullies called me lazy.

When I told them I was disabled they acted like I was crazy.


My impatience grows,

but my body knows, 

its not going anywhere anytime soon. 


Things don't make sense,

my body feels tense. 

Enveloped in confusion.

my brain is in ruins. 


I wish there was a rope above me, one I could see.

I  wish I could be strong enough, by just being me,

to  pull myself out of my body.


To pull myself somewhere else mentally,

escape my disability,

and transcend my fragility.


Even when I was severely over weight,

my mind was still much like a glass plate.

I wish I could go to a place where I wasn’t harmed,

my mind is often still alarmed. 


Even my grip is weak,

I can't help that my outlook is bleak. 


My ability to make decisions is zapped,

in my body I always feel trapped.


So much discomfort and pain,

even wearing certain clothes can drive me insane.

Cant remember how to stand,

worried where my feet will land.


My thoughts link,

as my energy sinks.

You've got things to do,

stop thinking and move.


Feels like trying to bring the dead back to life,

remembering when my brother chased me with a knife. 


It happened so long ago but its still replaying,

on my thoughts its still weighing.

My body remembers all of the abusive times,

the pain in my chest climbs.


My heart races, 

my mind paces,

my rationality disappears,

now I am consumed only by fears.


I feel trapped between two worlds,

the present and past they blur.

It often feels like I'm dying, 

this is terrifying. 


As I write this I am glad my husband and cat are near,

they ease the days when I am consumed in fear.


Night times are hard,

I am often on guard.

In my nightmares the abuser is here,

random sounds trigger my fear. 


Sometimes it feels unending,

as though doom is impending,

I may have escaped but the trauma lives inside. 

I wish I could just brush it aside.


Sometimes my body feels dead,

I'm still in it but have to endure the dread. 

It was abused, mocked and hated,

treated like an object and degraded. 


How can I be happy when I hate it?

Even at a now healthy weight I berate it.

With someone amazing from whom I don’t have to hide,

but still my alien I must abide. 


So most days even when I am not going out

My feelings they start to crowd

An overwhelming feeling commences,

subconsciously I put up my defences.


I put on makeup to a certain point. 

Until I feel a disjoint.


Looking in the mirror.

No longer can I see her.


That little girl who was abused and ignored.

I am cutting an invisible cord. 


In therapy I was taught with her to connect, 

doing that will be quite a project. 

To do this I am struggling,

I feel anxiety bubbling. 


I keep escaping myself,

outer Danielle left to go somewhere else.

I was taught she was an object and nothing more,

a thing to humiliate and abhor.


The alien is still here it’s the shell I present,

the real Danielle I resent.

The one my brother molested,

The person many of her peers detested.


The child her parents felt was broken by vaccines,

it couldn't possibly have been their genes.

The one groomed by so many men online,

when safety and love was all she wanted to find.


I often watched mother reel through disappointment,

disabled me was not what she wanted.

According to her I shouldn't be how I am,

"its all because of that man."


One doctor who insisted on a jab,

at least I didn't end up on a slab.

I guess she can't see it that way.

She is full of resentment every day.


Everyday like Humpty Dumpty 

but  it’s not me I’m putting together again.


I’m  building someone new, 

the feeling before this is like a queue,

my anxiety begins to brew.


The feelings of discomfort rise,

I sometimes look to the skies.

I can't live as the person I was.


Always trapped,

 never learnt to adapt.

Trauma and autism overlap,

this is all so hard to unwrap.


They both mean to survive I cant be me,

they mean I never get to be care free.

Always in high states of anxiety,

 and depleting in energy.




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