Time passes, sometimes quickly, sometimes dragging it’s weary feet along the carpetted floor of the third floor office suite. My mind, seeming to match the variation, at times boiling over with ideas, thoughts, the creative process, at others leaden, heavy, unresponsive yet still full to capacity of thoughts and memories. It never stops, this feeling of being overwhelmed, overburdened, and the more I see, the more I become aware of my mind and how it works the worse it gets. I have moments of sheer panic, unable to rationalise the maelstrom of conflicting thoughts and emotions, the hurricane force battering of sensory overload, the pressures of trying to form a coherent thought from the tangled skein that my mind has become. The simplest decision becomes a ordeal of Sisiphean proportions, a constant battle to create a calm place in my head where I can think rationally and carefully, a sanctuary in which I can formulate a response or come to a conclusion.

Time passes, yet the full mind remains, sometime working quickly, sometimes clogged and blocked by the myriad distractions and diversions of modern life, by the wall of sound and light and smell and taste and touch that bombards my senses. I know I must resolve this, I must find the place within myself that I can be free to think, to breath, to be, but it slips away, elusive…..


About Autistic writing

Im 46, autistic and vocal about it, a specialist autism mentor in higher education, embarking on my MEd in adult autism, autistic advocate and campaigner, writer and co-founder of asP - the autism strategy partnership #differentnotdamaged #askaboutasP

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