Elizabeth Kozlowski
Bio
Learning who I truly am has been a lifetime journey, one that never ceases to amaze me. As I traipse through adulthood, I'm learning it's okay to be your genuine self (to never cease learning) and I write to connect with humanity. Cheers!
Stories (21)
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Living Autistically. Content Warning.
One day at work, my coworkers and I were conversing when I haphazardly picked up an item and started to fiddle with it. It was an old single-hole hole punch. As I was squeezing it, a part of me imagined if one had ever been used to pierce ears before. While thinking that, one of my coworkers noticed what I was doing and said, “Stimming?”. I looked at her and then it hit me: I was subconsciously stimming, and I consciously couldn't think of a reason why. I know the motion of squeezing the hole punch felt natural, but to pinpoint an emotion or an event that led to my overstimulation, I haven’t a clue. I have noticed I’ve been overstimulated these past few days. I did have a moment where I just had to cry. I think I’m grieving for the future I had hoped for and will likely never come to fruition (unless I'm wrong, which I hope I am). I had so many plans, hopes, and dreams and yet, the entire world seems hellbent on destruction.
By Elizabeth Kozlowskiabout a year ago in Psyche
Living Autistically . Content Warning.
As I sit here listening to "This is Me" from The Greatest Showman, I realize that I have always tried to stuff myself into the box society tells young women they must be in. Don't be different, don't be too emotional, don't be too feminine, don't be too masculine, don't question authority, it's always your fault, you're not worth it, don't speak up, don't lose your voice, don't be ambitious, don't be a wuss, etc. I have never fully accepted who I am for many reasons: trying to survive through abuse and trauma, never really fitting into any mold in school or work, not having a particular skillset (I'm average at lots of things), fighting my own genetics so I don't repeat my parents' histories, tempering down my interests, believing differently, looking different from my family, having health issues, being told and shown I wasn't worth putting effort into, etc. Long have I desired to understand all of who I am so I make sense to my own mind. Too many parts of my past haven't made sense, so the struggle has continued over decades. That is, until last year.
By Elizabeth Kozlowskiabout a year ago in Psyche
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 10
Hello once again! I gather I left Part 9 as a type of cliff-hanger since it has been several years since I wrote it. To those who have followed that story, I give my sincerest apologies. I was not in a good mental place to continue my story and I needed time to become okay again. So, nearly four years later, I am in a good place and can continue sharing my story.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski4 years ago in Families
Heartstrings of Siblings
When I was a little girl, I thought having four older (half) sisters was the coolest fact about me, especially when they lived in a different state than I did. I would dream about hanging out with them, being one of them, and sharing secrets. Over the years as I grew in knowledge of the real world, it became painfully clear to me that my dreams were simply my hopes manifest and would rarely cross over into reality. To be fair, I can't blame my sisters entirely; I was a pain in the butt as a child. On the rare occasions I did see them, I would chase after them to tell them to stop smoking because it would kill them. I didn't know how to say, "dad won't let me hang out with you when you smoke," so it came out as me being a little priss.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 9
As I was working on homework tonight, the swirl of emotions filled me to the point where I realized I desperately needed to work on this next part of my story. Then I realized how school, work, my photography, and my sister's wedding planning put writing on the back-burner. So, without further ado, here I go!
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
What Does Love Look Like?
Love is a bit of a strange topic for me to write about since I have never been "in love" before. Sure, I've had the usual crushes, a date, and rejections, but I don't know what "love" is supposed to look like these days. The world has become confused as to what "love" is; I have never thought it was that icky feeling in one's gut when you stare into someone's eyes, because that feeling is fleeting and love is supposed to last a lifetime. "Love," according to what the media throws our way, is all about the sexual gratification that comes with being with the one you're attracted to. "Love" is about sharing a physically intimate part of one's self with multiple people while withholding the truly intimate part: your inner vulnerability, your past, your dreams, your needs, your life plan, your hidden passions (as in hobbies), etc. After watching so many of my friends and family members settle down over the years, I have made it a point to observe what kind of "love" they have.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Humans
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 8
Wow. That is about all I can say when I looked and saw how long it has been since I last shared Part 7. I will eventually get to why it took so long, but suffice enough to say it had to do with my dad's health problems as well as a surgery my mom underwent (both are fine right now, though!). The first order of business I wish to tackle is to explain my subtitle: "A Chemically-Forced Submission in a Self-Absorbed World." I believe in the commandment to honor one's father and mother; to me, that is to be respectful, serve them with love, and submit to them regardless of one's age. By "submit," I mean there are times when their needs are greater than my own and, out of love, I put my needs in a "later" box. Note how I say the word "love" and not include "respect." There are not a lot of moments where I respect my dad after all that has happened, but I do respect him as a fellow human being as as the person who sired me. Agent Orange required me to put my needs on "pause" so early in life, long before I had the maturity to understand, that it felt like a forced submission. Only in recent years have I learned how to not have it be forced, but done in kindness and love.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 7
Somehow it does not feel as if it has been a week since I last posted. A lot has gone on and frankly, I needed a breather from travelling back through my own timeline — as in Doctor Who, travelling one's own timeline is a dangerous game. Remembering all that I have for this story has stirred up feelings I never thought I would feel again. This past week I have been angry with my dad as I have not been in several years, probably since I was in Texas.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 6
Later this week my dad will be going into surgery to fix a problem caused by him not following post-surgery orders nearly a year ago (that is a chapter all on its own!). With this surgery looming on the horizon, I keep thinking about my past as his daughter. I see how far I have come since I left for England six years ago on the 22nd of January. Those six months were exactly what I needed; they allowed me to grow as an adult in a way I never would have experienced if I had stayed home. For the first time I was able to go where I wanted whenever I wanted without parental permission or explaining why I was leaving. I walked nearly everywhere in Newcastle and felt like one of the locals most of the time (except for when I opened my mouth to speak). Being in such a beautiful city with lovely people, I was free to detox from all the years of negativity. My study abroad group went on several excursions and aside from those, I visited a few places on my own. The countryside of Scotland was by far my favorite; I lost myself in the rolling hills dotted with sheep. I admit I was scared the first time I went to a new town all on my own with no form of backup, but that fear was simply because I had never been given the gift of exploration as a child. Once I found out I could travel on my own in a foreign country, my wings took off and my spirit soared.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 5
Part four was probably seen as a bit harsh, especially towards those outside my immediate family—it is how I viewed life at that time and remember, I was only a teenager. I did not have the maturity that I have now for better observation skills and discernment. In my emotionally wild teen years I was harsh and quick with my judgments and unforgiving with what I saw through those skewed eyes. I know there are things said and done that I have never been told about where people stood by dad and my family—as I said, as a teenager I was not the best person to share things with because of how quickly I would jump to the wrong judgmental conclusion. I do not apologize for what I wrote, but I want my readers to understand that is not who I am anymore; I lived what I lived, but I have grown past who I used to be.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
