For The Little Fairy In The Lilac Tutu
As a woman who’s autistic I realised it has fallen to me to to write a letter to my little self.
I was only diagnosed with Aspergers last year and with that recognition has come so many realisations, happiness, relief and a whole lot of resentment.
Happiness to finally embrace the woman I am, the woman who scripts out loud as she cooks, the person who dances as she gets dressed to music she can select and play in her head. The woman who since being diagnosed has lost “ friends” and gained allies.
Relief that I am not mad, that I am not an actor gliding through a life of unscripted film sets clueless as to what scene changes may transpire with seemingly rapid transition.
Resentment, oh so much anger.
The bullying as my voice would fluctuate into many different accents reacting to mood and circumstance.
The fact I’ve accepted much less then I deserve from people, as self esteem issues whispered lies into my gullible ears telling me I was worth less.
The ostracisation I’ve faced from people whom I had thought were friends….mothers with autistic children whom when it comes to the crunch would alter and cure their children without a thought, to make their own lives easier.
To these people I say acceptance is the key, change yes, but change your own outlook to acknowledge your child is autistic, stop looking for alteration embrace all you have.
Without further ado I write this letter to the little ballerina, twirling in a lilac tutu.
To my little sweetheart,
As you sit wondering why your mother treats you this way,
And you listen to the arguing that happens each day,
Realise it’s not you they argue about,
It’s not you that causes them to bellow and shout,
Two people that should never have been together,
But lucky they were dear,
You would never,
Exist and be you,
No you wouldn’t be here,
Watch as I weave all your dreams will appear.
Now daddy has left and your safety nets gone,
You struggle and befuddle,
To make your way on,
With a mother who doesn’t,
Know right from wrong,
Gets tearful and wails to a particular song,
On those nights you retreat,
Into a fairyland world,
Where you have friends,
You matter and you’re a popular girl,
Not knowing as you endeavour,
You stoop you claim,
You pick up a feather,
You touch and you stroke,
And along your lips swipe,
It’s sensory seeking as you try as you might,
You brave little girl,
You see the whole world,
Dressed in diamonds and pearls,
If only it was and the abuse had not been,
Still not picked for games,
You stand out so fit in,
Chart songs learnt,
Lingo practiced and said,
Still not working,
You strive to be dead,
But I was there you see,
I made it not work,
As you had so much to live for,
So I waited and lurked,
Strange voices as you struggled to see,
Who you would grown into,
You still hadn’t seen me.
So many vultures,
You struggle it’s muddled,
They feed as you thrash,
Yet you rise,
One who waited to long,
A strong woman proud,
With the beat of a song,
With a need to do right and correct all that’s wrong,
Six soul mates you created,
Amazing they gleam,
Like six pearls they glide,
With the rhythms of dreams,
Recognition as autistic,
You’ve found where you belong,
Insecurities slain new beginnings begun,
You see little girl,
You weren’t strange odd or weird,
Not a freak,
Not a fool as so often sneered,
Too kind you were,
Too naïve to sweet,
Your allies you’ve met,
Smile as you greet.
Sleep little princess as you realise,
I remember the fairy in dreams,
It was me.Share