being
a neurodivergent individual
i often overcorrect
when someone offers me
a correction
i don’t really know how to get to a
“happy medium”
since, apparently, i can either go
full-hog
into what i’m doing wrong
or full hog
into what i think doing
right
is like
working through what works best
for my distractable brain/
my undiagnosed, but probably ADHD brain/
my MaybeHD brain
finding new discoveries and tricks and impacts and randomness all the time
and it’s slowly feeling like
less and less of a lie when i
introduce myself and my needs as simply
“undiagnosed ADHD”
the pull
of the iud string/
the cramps
from a new one entering,
do not hurt me.
but the crash of a mug that wasn’t mine to break;
or a tiny pebble stuck in my shoe
for each step, bothering, not stabbing;
or something sticky
and i can’t tell what;
or the tag of a shirt;
or an uncomfortable sitting position —
those all make tears
appear
in my eyes.
but actual pain?
worst pain of my life?
nah.
writing
as if i have adhd
living
as if that truly is me
sharing stories
telling anecdotes
diagnosing myself
so that maybe
understanding it
will set me free
i write
every morning
to warm up my brain
i write
every morning
to feel a little more awake
i write
every morning
to get the creative juices flowing
i write
every morning
to feel like i’ve accomplished something
i write
every morning
because morning is when i’m at my best
i write
every morning
to continue a streak
because once i set my mind to something
i accomplish it
and i vowed to write every morning
and so i’ll write
every morning
until i feel
i’ve succeeded
(and then maybe move on
to the next hyper-fixation)
precariously balanced devises
plugged in to cords that show all the wires
on top of older machines
and books and unlit candles and things
i feel like the quintessential
adhd
disaster
but hey
it does
work
i’ll never think flags
are dumb
again.
while there are flags for every
little
sexuality
gender
identity
feeling
fandom
these days
(even the different states in america have their own flag!
and cities!!
it’s getting ridiculous, guys…)
and the ‘meanings’ behind the colored stripes
i often find
a little forced
but
i know of multiple
*multiple*
people
(some i knew personally,
some i only heard their story from their mouth
over a little known
‘clock app’)
who, being non-binary, never felt ‘trans enough’
‘yes’ they’d think to themselves,
‘trans means someone who does not identify
as the gender they were assigned
at birth,
but i’ve had no transition
social/
hormonal/
surgical/
how does that really imply
*trans*-gender?’
and then they’d learn that the white stripe in the middle
of the trans pride flag
is for non-binary folks specifically.
‘i see myself in the trans flag’ their faces of delighted surprise seemed to say
‘i am trans enough—
i mean, i’m part of the damn flag!’
and i recently learned about the disability pride flag
(it had a re-design so those with sight sensitivities
could scroll and not be assaulted by the
zig-zag making strobe effects on their screens)
and i’ve been trying to do more research into the disability community,
one i admired from afar,
and read about,
and wondered if any of my strange nerve pains are
an invisible illness sneaking up on me,
or if my glasses are enough of a mobility aid to think of them as such,
or, still, if my depression/anxiety interrupt my day-to-day
in this world built for neurotypicals
to even imagine them as disabilities.
but in learning about the disability pride flag
and what those colors mean
and that blue stripe
right there
calls out mental illness—
very
obviously
states
that mental illness
is part
of the disability
community
and i have never breathed such a loaded sigh
of relief
of pride
of protection
of fear
of the weight of what it means
to be disabled in a culture
that would rather pretend a global pandemic
is over
than admit that disabled people
are bearing the brunt
of the deaths and tragedies from it
so
even though
i take on most of my mental illness
in isolation
(except for some poems
here and there
in this here daily poetry blog)
i’m starting to think of myself
as one who has community
rather than one
without
Trans Day of Visibility.
i try to be so visible…
but my visibility often seems to negate my living experiences
(any time i wear the trans colors
i’m read as
only femme)
(and while i feel
not
the gender i was assigned at birth,
my taste often finds itself
aligning
with what my assigned gender
is ‘supposed to’ like)
(but i’m not just gay
as in happy
[though often i have this
demeanor]
i’m also queer
as in fuck the system,
as in i will always stand up for those with less power,
as in my entire identity will always be a political statement
because much of it is often politicized without my consent,
and i know of others with intersecting identities
on top of the identity[ies] we share
who will never be out of the line of fire from politicians
trying to gain power
over others)
so i’ll stand up
tall
(as my barely over five-foot-frame will let me)
and proud
of my trans identity,
my non-binary identity,
my queer-in-all-the-ways identity,
and tell everyone who will listen
‘yes, thank you for listening
to me,
an actual trans person,
but please
also listen
to those who fall under the binary umbrella
underneath the larger trans umbrella,
especially trans women,
and listen to those who fall under other marginalized identities,
listen to Black trans folks,
listen to Indigenous trans folks [Indigenous two-spirit people],
listen to trans people of color
listen to those folks of color with darker skin,
listen to trans people with disabilities
listen to trans people who aren’t neurotypical
listen to trans people who aren’t from your country,
listen to trans people who don’t look anything like you,
listen to trans folks who make you feel uncomfortable with your privilege
listen to trans folks who fight the system that was built to tear them down.
and honestly,
if you listen to those folks first
(which i encourage you to do)
and you have a lot of introspection to do
and you don’t have the time
or energy
or capacity
to listen to my words
afterwards,
i’d much prefer that.
listen to trans folks with less privilege than myself
expand your knowledge
first.
(maybe we’ll see each other in the metaphorical
‘audience’
and wave ‘hi!’)
organization
is not my strong suit
and i’ve watched enough tiktoks to know
that i’m definitely not neurotypical
but in which direction?
is my extreme self-reliance on what i can remember
(with mostly successful strategies)
simply a life-long coping mechanism?
is my delving into the human condition
and socializing within characters
a masking tactic that’s been going on longer than i can remember?
or am i simply lucky enough
to have a very, very slight neuro-diversity
that doesn’t necessarily fit into either box
that my parents were kind enough not to force out of me
(or did society hit where my parents tried not to
as it hit in other ways?)
would i ever get diagnosed if i saw a ‘professional’?
almost definitely not.
but
i know my brain doesn’t work the way the ‘majority’ of brains
‘are supposed to’
so where does that leave me?
[alone?]
do you ever find
imposter syndrome
just from living
from being
alive
?
[i do]
kipventures 