content warning
thought piece on emotional processing
systemic erasure / oppression
big angry feelings
blame and frustration

intentions
be understood in the process / expression
be seen in frustration at the system
be seen in the isolating floundering process of suffering

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series
listening to death
9

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a note
us / our / ours / we = i / my / mine / me

“i” am deconstructing the narcissistic notion of self through embodied language
“i” am merely a collection of infinite beings, large / small
limbs, bones, organs, vessels, muscles, ligaments, tissue, cells, molecules, atoms, etc.

this is a messy imperfect process with fluidity as the habit builds consistency over time

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us need people who will trust my process. due to my intense childhood trauma us have spent my entire life sacrificing my own needs fro the sake of others. now that i am finally prioritizing my own needs, my body has space to voice our problems, and thus to heal them. Finally. us know my process seems strange, unfamiliar, confusing, even deeply concerning. those feelings are valid. and they are no more valid than mine.

us need people who will put up with our bullshit. who will lovingly allow me to be myself and continue to show up. this is part of the process. us am different than most people. us may do things that are maddening at times, but being supported with consistency and with an assumption of positive intent is an incredibly healing part of the process.

healing does not require pain. life does not need to be painful, though it certainly will always contain it. if baby drew / child drew was able to fully express the pain / agony / sorrow we were going through, we would have been one of those feral, earsplitting screaming, kicking, biting, vengeful, hurtful, violent autistic / disabled / special ed kids that everyone hated and no one wanted to be around and tolerated out of duty to their job. those deep big feelings are still in here and us tend to them with as much compassion / love / grace as we have space to do so. letting it all out at once would serve no one, drive people away, and cause greater harm to the system of us / you / all

(though i prefer the good / well route whenever possible)

it is probably easier to sum up by saying – us do not yet feel safe to express our full selves to other people. us am the only person we feel safe with, and even that is touch and go. this is part of the process. us have healed / grown so much in the last month, three, six, nine, twelve, twenty four.

much of this difficulty lies in the embodied silencing of my voice. in childhood, obviously, and also daily by the world as an adult. for people who have not gone through capital T trauma as us have, when us try to explain things us just gets a lot of blank looks, confusion, or even anger. all of these things are viewed as threats by our body. we are finally brave enough to tell our story to someone to the best of our ability, and then to be completely misunderstood is just another form of dismissal / abandonment / erasure of what us have been through.

how am us to know which one of onehundredzerotenszeroones people is safe / open / receptive / compassionate to talk to ? there is no way, so we must do the safe thing and tend to our own wounds. us have hurt so many relationships, and been far more hurt in retaliation, by oversharing / overstepping / over relying / over expecting.

all of this applies two fold, or even five fold, twenty fold, when viewed through the lens of the autistic experience. or, as i prefer to be named, highly sensitive.

when us try to explain, people don’t get it. when us try to express, people don’t know how to respond. when us try to be vulnerable, people turn away. this has been our life forever. until very recently. until us started to find people that do get it, that do respond, that turn towards. mostly, other highly sensitive people (appreciating them).

to use a discrete example, the last time us asked for help in any significant way, though only to a group of 5 people who said they wanted to help, who us knew for some time, who showed up consistently saying how much they loved me and cared for me, us literally ended up worse off. us were literally threatened, cursed out, blocked, slandered, shunned. partially because of how us handled the fallout (poorly, but not super poorly) but mostly because of their inability to understand me and show up in good faith. likewise, us did not know how to understand them. us learned many hard lessons in ways that were not kind nor gentle nor loving – lessons that we should not have had to learn if we were surrounded by the right people – lessons that we nonetheless made space to glean gold from the dirt / shit because we needed those lessons. we would not be here before you without those people and those lessons, painful as they were, and we are eternally grateful

and. this means that that process is required to move slower. with more care / deliberation / intention. for as much your sake as mine. at the end of the day, us asked too much. us did not yet have the language / tools / resources to express ourselves in a connective way. without connection there will only be harm. and. us did not know yet know what we needed. if we do not know what we need, it is not yet time to ask. if us cannot feel our feelings, it is not yet time to share.

so. us write. alone. us feel our feelings. alone. this is the only space we feel safe. by cherishing this, by loving ourselves exactly as we are without any expectations to ever change, we build the tools we need. we meet you, here, now, reading this purely because us has found the freedom to express ourselves. purely because us have been trusting the process. through this process, us now know what we need

—nineteen june twothousandtwentyfive

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us spent all day writing about our needs. sharing feelings, sentiments, approach. and.

us woke up angry. people say they are deeply concerned. they want to help. good, you should be concerned. you should be deeply concerned. us will not be doing anything to alleviate / reassure your concern. the only thing you should not be concerned about is whether or not us take all of this seriously. us do. us devote every spare moment we can to bettering ourselves, building what we need to heal. to have a better life. but us live life alone. and alone is a very hard way to live life, even without all these difficulties. us do not have friends who stop by, who take care of me, who hold my hand in difficult times.

if you are deeply concern, help. us have been very clear how to help and the vast majority of people have not done the little us have asked. subscribe. share. send $1 a week. $5 a month.

us need long term sustainable help / support. us am drowning. if us puts too much weight on any one person, they will drown too. us need many many hands on deck.

literally zero people have committed monthly help. one person sent $1, just as us requested, and this filled me up far more than any other donation.

please be concerned. and fucking do something about it. “we don’t know how to help.” us have told you how. “we don’t know how to help.” SHOW UP. TRY SOMETHING. REACH OUT. BRING ME FOOD.

TELL ME HOW ALL THIS MAKES YOU FEEL. HUMAN TO HUMAN. FACE TO FACE. “we don’t know how to help.” US AM FUCKING DYING AND YOU ARE STANDING IDLY BY, WRINGING YOUR HANDS IN DISCOMFORT BECAUSE YOU ARE AFRAID OF DOING THE WRONG THING. US AM SLOWLY SLIDING OFF A CLIFF, 3 FEET FROM YOU, AND YOU ARE NATTERING AND CHATTERING AND WHINGING TO YOURSELVES. “us don’t know how to help.” TRY SOMETHING, ANYTHING AT ALL, YOU USELESS PIECES OF SHIT. US DON’T NEED MUCH TO IMPROVE OUR SITUATION.

“drew’s ill, don’t go to her classes anymore.”
“drew’s in pain. deprive her of the only source of income she has.”
“it’s hard to see you limping around, we don’t want to watch you hurt yourself, so we’re not coming to class anymore.”

this is merely a drop of my suffering. the sight of it provokes such distress that people start abandoning ship because

WE ARE ALL FUCKING DROWNING. sometimes it just feels like I’m the only person who sees it. people who are drowning avoid problems they can’t bear, because they know they’ll drown too.

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCKYOUFUCFUKCKFUFU

i don’t want you less concerned. i want you more concerned. i need an army of concerned people who are all willing and enthusiastic to do their small significant part to chip away at the pile of problems. i need a life raft made of human bodies, folks who watched me drowning from the side of the ship and decided to jump in the water with me, to try their damndest. a buoying force of people who are willing to briefly hold their breath while i climb over them, to the next person, and the next, and the next, until i finally heave myself on deck and take some dep shuddering breaths of fresh air, the first in a long long time

—twenty june twothousandtwentyfive

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a comic

you don’t deserve the privilege of reducing your concern until you actually step up and help. i will not make through this without your help. it is up to you. everyone of you. the individual collective.

a small person finds a big rock. they struggle to pick it up, frown, look around, lightbulb goes off.
where did this come from?

the small person frowning carries the rock to a bigger person who has a big smile
sir, sir, you dropped this! im concerned it’ll get lost. and it’s so heavy! im worried you’ll hurt yourself.

the big smiling person takes it from the smaller frowning person and easily tosses it off screen
thank you so much! that’s really helpful! i appreciate you deeply my friend

the wagon appears, it is loaded with many many rocks of all sizes. the small person looks surprised
must have fallen out of my wagon

the big smiling person puts the wagon on their shoulder and starts walking off, the small person looks on
thanks again!

as the big smiling person walks off screen the small person frowns to themselves
wow i wonder what i could do to help, they don’t deserve to carry all that

the wagon leaves the screen and the small person smiles for the first time
oh well, they’re gone now. time to think about something else. ooo strawberry jam!

—twenty june twothousandtwentyfive