A Young Autistic Poet’s Story – Guest Post – The Additional Needs Blogfather

Hi, I’m Romilly.

I’m an Autistic 22 year old girl with a collection of medical conditions. For years I’ve struggled to make and maintain friendships; I didn’t understand others and they didn’t understand me. I often feel lonely and isolated because I just don’t understand the social rules that others seem to be born understanding.

Despite my health issues, I got my GCSEs, however I was asked to leave the sixth form when my health issues became more ‘inconvenient’. I wanted to complete my education, but there was no one to support me in that. I went through a significant period of depression.

Over lockdown, mum and dad watched church online. They’d recently started attending All Saints church. I’d still been attending our old church, but while I believed in God, I failed to see that he loved me. I was blinded to his love by my pain. That changed over lockdown when I watched the Easter livestream with my parents. I felt like someone had opened my eyes and heart and suddenly I felt that love again, the love of God.

The Curate at the time had a chronically ill wife who also really helped – she was the kindest person you could ever meet, and she understood what it was like to be sick. After 12 years of feeling isolated in my illness, someone finally got it. And I was in a church where people understood that neither my Autism, nor my health issues were my fault. While people still pray for healing (which I will admit I’m not a fan of) they also understand that maybe my health issues are part of God’s plan. Since I’ve been sick I’ve tutored from home, and two of those kids are now Christian and attending church and youth groups regularly – God used my sickness to call two children to know Him personally! Which is totally amazing.

I regularly get frustrated by my health issues; I’d love to be able to help every week with our youth groups and clubs, but I don’t have the energy to do so. And I regularly feel like I’m failing because of my Autism. Sometimes I wonder how God can use my broken brain. Often I feel terrified walking into church because of the noise of everything and I have been known to hide in the kitchen while helping with clubs because of the noise the kids make!

I wish other people around me would want to understand me and listen to what I’m trying to say. Life can feel incredibly isolating at times. But despite that, I do know that God is with me. He made me, and he made my Autism. To Him, I am incredibly special, and he will never be mad at me for not making eye contact! He understands when I find it safer to watch a livestream of church from home, or bring crochet to help keep me grounded during services.

Romilly’s Poems:

The Rose Of Pain

The rose is a flower
As sweet as can be
When people look at me
That’s all they will see.

They glance at my mask
But no deeper they look
But then they see thorns
That they can’t overlook.

They want me to hide them
To cover my shame
To glare at myself
Give myself all the blame.

They suggest oils
Meditation and prayer
I smile and nod
But inside I despair.

You all love my beauty
You love my sweet smell
But why won’t you love
All my prickles as well?

You want me to hide them
To cut them away
But my prickles are in me
They’re here to stay.

I didn’t design them
They weren’t in my plan
But they’re all within me
My life they will span.

If you did love me
You’d understand why
That removing these prickles
Would not satisfy.

You expect me to be
Just as sweet as a rose
But when that rose came with prickles
You suddenly froze.

Nobody is perfect
And love isn’t true
My thorns are within me
Turning me black and blue.

Prickles and beauty
Scent laced with pain
When will you understand
That I’d rather be plain?

A daisy is a weed
But so happy it seems
Children pluck them all up
Their faces all beams.

Unique was not wanted
And nor were my thorns
My life of simplicity
Is still something I mourn.

You pick me up
Then you throw me away
Holding my prickles
A price you won’t pay.

You think that it’s bad
To try to hold me
But think of my life
And then maybe you’ll see.

The thorns that attack you
Are attacking me
They are inside
And I cannot be free.

Even if they are cut
Even if they are wrapped
They’re still inside me
And like that I am trapped.

Inside my body
The thorns all await
The day when I finally
Accept my fate.

They settle around me
The prickles they call
And soon joined by thistles
They create me a wall.

A wall with no gate
A fence with no end
I’m trapped behind sickness
Alone with no friend.

No one understands
The prickles and thorns
The tears and the grief
And the world full of scorn.

The rose wants no thorns
But the seed has been sewn
But now that she’s fighting
She’s fighting alone.

Dear Diary

I’m lonely and scared
I was never prepared
Nobody warned me
Nobody cared
Nobody sat and made me aware.

They told me about phonics
How words are all made
They talked about atoms
And how electrons they trade
They told me of history
Of victories won
But nobody warned me.
Nobody. Not one.

Nobody warned
Of the life full of pain
The body that’s breaking
Creating my chain
Nobody told me
That friends walk away
once you are sick
That no one will stay.

Nobody told me
That I have a strange brain
That what most find normal
Causes me pain
And nobody listens
When I explain
That I’m not being rude
eye contact is a strain.

Why did nobody hint
That life would be hard
That dreams would be shattered
With complete disregard
My life’s dreams are slowly dying
From creating a forensic scene
To a day without crying.

My life is measured
In doses of meds
My social calendar
Is torn down in shreds
Because who wants a friend
Who is always in pain
Whose panic attacks
Will never be slain?

Who would want me
When I’m battered and bruised
They may be inside me
My offers are refused
And who would care
If here I did end
Because you, dear diary,
Are my only friend.

In My Wildest Dreams

I’ll have my own pony
And win every show
People will know me
Wherever I go.

I’ll be big and strong
And build my own house
There will even be an apartment
Not just a hole for a mouse.

I’ll be able to walk
To the post box alone
Or go to the shops
Without sighs or a groan.

I’ll play loads of football
Be on the TV
Everyone will cheer
At the goals scored by me.

My music will sing
Through the lounge and the hall
My cookies and cupcakes
Will be loved by all.

I will stand up
Without falling back down
And whenever I want to
I could go into town.

I’ll have six children
Three girls and three boys
I’ll love hearing them laugh
As they play with their toys.

I’ll have my own suit
I’ll be top of my game
In the world of sales
Is where I’ll have fame.

My wildest dreams
Are all set in stone
As things that can’t
Be achieved on my own.

I look to my friends
And I wish that my dream
Was as simplistic
As theirs all seem.

What I Wish I Was Allowed To Say