Time, so boundless at first blush, is a shrinking prison, and it now seems to me ever more important to know the truth, to render the furrows ploughed into memory as accurately and authentically as possible.
How else can you know who you are?
life without borders
Time, so boundless at first blush, is a shrinking prison, and it now seems to me ever more important to know the truth, to render the furrows ploughed into memory as accurately and authentically as possible.
How else can you know who you are?
Getting a diagnosis is like finding out you’re adopted – it’s not that you’re odd and don’t fit in, you’re just part of a different family.
If people realised how hard autistics have to work to connect, they’d understand… empathy is a two-way street.
When K and I decided to be together it turns out, looking back, neither one of us gave it a lot of thought…
Recently, the mere anticipation of writing has resulted in instant mental paralysis, until this morning when I spilt an entire cup of coffee – the second in a fortnight. To put it succinctly, I lost my shit.
Is it just me or does Ramadan seem to get more air-time and column inches with every passing year?
With a lump in my throat I described my beautiful, clever, mischievous daughter and discussed all the ways we could help make her future the antithesis of my past.
Instead of building intercultural bridges as I imagined, I was adding my bricks to the prisons so many are walled up in by their own communities…
They said on the radio today this was the coldest February since eighteen-something. After a certain point cold is cold is cold.
I don’t need to take on the responsibility for changing other people’s misconceptions. Learning to be honest and authentic – standing in my own truth – is more important right now.