An Odd Child, A Creative Mind

When I was little,

my family started to notice that I was "odd"

Or that there was something different about me.

I was "quirky". I used to color outside the lines

in my sister's coloring books, because I wanted

to make something different, I didn't want to

just color it the same as my sister.

she used to get so mad at the way I colored.

I have a vague memory of coloring with my mom one time,

Like she was trying to show me how to color

Inside the lines.

I think my whole life, that's what my family has expected me to do:

color inside the lines, but I just can't.

My mind doesn't work like that.

Most of my life,

I was made fun of for my eccentricities and weird habits.

I used to collect

sticks from outside.

I would bring them inside

and I had this special place where I put them.

My older brother and sister made a habit

Out of stealing and hiding my sticks.

I remember crying so much. Telling mom,

who is halfway between humor and sympathy

At the moment by the look on her face.

I mean, I guess I'd think it's kinda funny, too,

If that was my kid. But I wouldn't constantly

Ridicule her of it her whole life, embarrass her

In front of various boyfriends

and friends over the years,

by telling them I used to "talk to sticks"

yeah. It was not fun. lol.

Pacing was also my thing:

I paced around my room,

I paced around the back yard, telling imaginative

stories to my dog as we went on some

fictional grand adventure

to save the world or something

inside my head.

From what I remember, most of my stories

Were about superheroes,

superheroes coming to save me

and my dog, or me going to help superheroes

defeat the bad guys, whoever they were in my story.

Anyway, I pace because I have so many thoughts;

so many thoughts sometimes, that they collide into each

other like this big bang, boom, and crash inside the fields of my mind,

The black spaces of time where letters and symbols

and numbers and dreams and memories live,

Beautiful golden ashes of dreams and words falling from the sky

And into my little mind sometimes.

Sometimes I feel like my brain should get a speeding ticket

I'm telling it to slow down, just a little bit,

So that I can catch my breath.

They never let me live through that, though,

Or that awfully weird phase where I was obsessed with tape, and I

put tape on my floor, and on the sticks I collected

Pretty much anywhere I wanted to put tape.

I know it sounds strange and totally bizarre, but

you wanna know the really heartbreaking thing

about it? I spent all that time growing up,

Either sitting in my room, or being outside

With my dog. When I told those stories,

When I imagined these things, I was imagining

also that I had friends and people to talk to.

This started when I was about 5 or 6 years old.

I grew out of a lot of my quirky habits, but I still tend to

Pace around rooms for long periods of time when

I am working on a project or doing something

That needs my undivided attention.

Isn't that the ironic thing, though?

My coping mechanism for

being neglected and ridiculed by my family

for being neurodivergent

was to make fun of myself,

call myself stupid,

and then learn

how to hyperfocus on one thing,

and give that one thing my undivided

attention, when my entire life,

since I was five, I've been asking

my parents, my siblings, my family,

for that attention.