Screenshots. A working copy.

Letters float out of my mouth and out into space

Rising to the top, bursting and disappearing like bubbles

They aren’t describing my pictures

Pictures like screenshots

Quick snapshot pictures

Sometimes layered together quickly


An lengthy novel of feelings and opinions, patterns, and realizations

Exemplified in a series of short screenshots inside

10 seconds in, I’ve read that 500 page novel.

I understand a lot. Feelings, Relations, Circumstances, Errors…

Can’t summarize my screenshots well. How one makes letters to words to feelings to come out -floating from their mouth to someone else’s mind and they understand what you are expressing. Slim.

Using analogies and metaphors, and waving my hands and fingers in the air to draw examples in front of me off to the side to the left. Like right here (drawing diagram).

Trying desperately to not sound crazy.

Back to our..

Difficulties in our communication (together)

My pictures and screenshots layer faster. Your words don’t match my inside flashes, like stills from a movie. I get confused. I’m trying to clarify. Unsuccessfully.

I can no longer look at you. I need to go now.

To look and concentrate on my stills, my screenshot pictures, my simply drawn diagrams that express a multitude of experiences or feelings that add up or get mixed up.

I can no longer be interrupted. Do not touch me. No, do not hug me. No, I’m not needing reassurance. No, I’m not needing affection. Yuck. No, I can’t talk with you, no. Stop looking at me. I’m getting anxiety. I need to run. Away. I need my safe space. Where is my cat. Why don’t I have an area free of things, free of people, free of too many colours and sounds. I can’t express these things. No, you haven’t made me feel bad. I’m having difficulty inside, to get it outside. I don’t get why I can’t be different. My frown on my face is back-deep concentration inside. I don’t see things around me anymore. Was I cooking? I can’t even remember to ask myself this.

Trying to avoid sympathetic overly intense , gone on too long eyes. Stop. Let me do my own thing. Leave me alone. That ticking inside the dryer. Is driving me crazy right now too. Shooting at me like darts.

All I can muster besides slight grunts and sound effects is “I’m FINE”…I know I am not. But, I this is every day. I’m tired of it. I just don’t want to be around humans. No, I’m not crazy, I feel like sometimes they clog my head up with too much information.

Us, people. Too complicated.


The Doctor

Good morning, Theresnoquestion. Take a seat. How have you been? Tell me what’s been happening since the last time you were here.

(Remember to face body towards him. Appear interested. Don’t wiggle. Don’t look like I have shifty eyes. Look somewhere around his face. This is important to describe.  You want him to listen to you. The spiderwebs inside. Not sure where to start. Difficult. Can’t express emotion verbally. Wish I could write you instead. Oh, try not to look too distracted. Look at his mouth moving when he’s talking. He’s sitting there with his notepad. Appears relaxed. Okay. Maybe it’s okay. I need this. I want this. I need someone to understand. The complexities inside. Impacting everything since forever. I want someone to tell me why I can’t be different. Oh, shit, don’t zone out. Look at face. Wow, his mouth moves not very much when he is talking. His eyebrows go up and his head tilts a tad. Oh, I am supposed to answer a question. What did he just say? Stop looking at me, I can’t think. Um….Okay, look to the left so I can concentrate and think.)

I’ve been okay. Can’t function very well. (the rabbit hole. Words are unimportant. Tell him about being at the bottom of the rabbit hole. The weight above that keeps my arms and legs tied, and my mouth gagged, and at the same time how something is yanking at my hair, my skin, that I just want to learn to be up top, different. I want to learn to be close to people. I don’t want to be weird, or scared, or overwhelmed by sensory stuff. Tell him that. How I can’t be warm like people are supposed to , well when it matters. Faking it. Masking things. Taking on persona when needed. About, feeling incompetent. And really want to just do “my things”. I don’t want to look after children or myself or my home or the world stuff I should try to do. Wait, am I talking? Did I just zone out? Is he looking at me strangely? Glance over to him. He’s looking a bit like he’s waiting for something. Maybe I just stopped talking. Um…I’m feeling really like I want to run. Like the room is on fire and I should run. Oh, um. okay.) I’m just having difficulty and can’t manage very well.

I see. Tell me more about how you feel you are’t managing very well.

Okay. Well, I have all these sensory things. And I can’t stop doing these things.

What things?

Oh, like…ugh, I don’t know. Like I can’t stop researching things I like, and I don’t want to deal with people. Including my children. And I feel guilty about it cause I know I should be different. I just want to zone out. And pull my hair or pet the cat, or be by self.

I see. How long have you not been working or out of the home?

Um….five….five years. ( Oh shit. he thinks I’m complaining because I’m bored. His legs shift. A slight sigh escapes from his breath out. I see a slight movement from his mouth . I think he is thinking about how to respond in a not-so-direct opinion/way. He is looking at his paper. He asks if I ever meditate. Why is he asking me this? Doesn’t he care to go deeper, help me dive down, I have  issues with explaining, or describing, or what the feelings are, or the things I have issues with. Why did he turn his body away towards his desk. He is writing something. I think he’s annoyed with me. He looks up. I take it for a second to make it look like I care and pay attention. I glance away and look at bookcase. Wow, I would like to read those books. Why can’t we talk about something more interesting like that book. I wonder if they pay for those. That dmv dvs or whatever it is called. I wonder if he even uses it. I wonder if the library has that, I never thought to look. Shit, I forgot to bring those books and dvds back. Ugh, I’m never going back in there. I lost three items the past month. I just want to pay for them and forget about it but I guess I have to go into the library to pay and then I would have to try to like shower and get dressed and think too much of how to be out there and it’s exhausting and ugh…I might have a panic attack for having to do all that and I hate feeling even more crappy than I am………)

So, what medication are you on? I see we adjusted it back in October. Have you ever tried medication A, medication B, C, D, E, F , G, H or any of those types on top? Do you have trouble sleeping? They can help. 

Um…no…..I don’t want to try those and I’m sleeping fine. I actually have hypersomnia so I don’t want any more reasons to be more tired in day.  I want to find out why I’m having so many issues, and have always had them. I don’t think adding more meds are going to help me be intimate, or responsive, or want to participate out there in the world’s not going to quiet things down. Things are too loud. Too bright. Too fast. Sickening. I feel sick, nauseas, like carsick . 

(He thinks I’m just having more anxiety. Ugh. Why is he talking like that? His pitch sounds different. He’s annoyed with me. Maybe I’m over reacting. Reading too much into things. Nope. His brow looks frumpled. His legs and his arms are different. He’s leaning towards his desk and paper. He does these things. On sides of face, in the wrinkles. In hands, and body parts and his voice that was like this—————— is more like this —-____——_____—-_____. Well, a bit different in the picture but my keyboard won’t draw it like I see it. He lets out a big breath like he’s tired or I’ve made him annoyed. Those are weird socks to wear with those pants at work for a dr. Look his shoes are dirty. Maybe he isn’t such a type A perfectionist. I wonder how he got through all this schooling without being a perfectionist. Maybe he just doesn’t have time anymore to have clean shoes because there are so many people to see. I wonder if they think I’m dumb. I hate that. I have to play even more dumb for them to listen to me. This is pointless. Once again. I feel like crying. I can’t explain why. I want to go in a room by self and cry. No one understands. I can’t explain things. They are in pictures. I’m sad.)

Okay, well let’s just leave your medication at what it is now. Try to deep breathe and maybe look into meditation. It can help. I’ll see you in say about 6-8 weeks for a follow-up.

Okay. But, what do I do about all the sensory things I have. Always had. I don’t know how to make it stop. I’m having  lot of issues with them. (ugh, I can’t explain anything to him. Or anyone. The touch. Sounds. Lights. Temperatures. Movements. Talking. I hate words floating out there bugging my brain. Can’t they  know I’m trying to learn something? Hate talking about emotional stuff, ugh excruciating.)

(Sigh.) Meditation can stop the …..thoughts. The constant thoughts. Practice it.

Okay. I’ll do that. Thanks. (Smile. Look appreciative. Look towards Doctor. I don’t want him thinking I’m being hostile. Another useless appointment…I feel sad. Confused….embarrassed…..why bother talking…..)


thousands of invaders

inability to control

vulnerability leads to


sounds zap in from all directions

words float across from you mixing up my clear space; confusion

my insides shutter and leap from unexpected sensations

can’t you see the colours of the touch, or overlapping sounds darting in

the panic, alike to an animal realizing it’s another animal’s prey

squirrelling beneath this skin

fuzzy, scratchy, burning irritation

I reiterate personal space

letters and numbers, a faint gray and sometimes edges of black

float round again making up an abstract design: this equals another picture in my mind

below the sea’s surface

deep dark way down

I glance up and see a glimmer of white, waves of motion, ripples

I am lost below

I can hear the muffled words trying to reach me, confusion sets in.

Anger, and reaction. Disconnect. Told appear “cold”

below that ocean, warmth.

Unable to break free, and rise out to the top.

Moments of forceful words escape, biased. My one side

Not understanding yours.

Eloquently said, it is not. I do not believe words come in colours

Feelings, in pictures-unable to describe.

Forceful outside, top of the sea. I rest below.

Focused around the items of interest down here.

Hope for a new ability to connect, but often fail.