The morning sun, a muted glow,
I leave the house and start to go,
The train arrives with rattles loud,
A daily start to face the crowd.
I board and find a little space,
But then oh no! The crunch, the race
An apple’s bite, a crisp’s crisp crack,
The sounds assault, no turning back.
I breathe in deep, my senses fight,
But it’s just another part of life.
The rustling wrappers, chewing loud,
I force a smile, try not to frown.
The train jerks on, I grasp the pole,
My thoughts are scattered, out of control,
A body here, a glance over there,
But what are they thinking? What do they care?
The office looms, it’s time to walk,
The pavement’s grey and people talk.
I pace my steps, each one a chore,
How much energy’s left to explore?
Inside, the air is full of chatter,
Who’s angry, who’s happy, whose day does it matter?
I mask my face, wear my best disguise,
Choose who I’ll be, how I’ll survive.
Should I be quiet? Loud? Or calm?
What will they want, what’s the right charm?
My brain is buzzing with all the things,
Deciding how to hide or spread my wings.
The laptop taps, the clicks all day,
I wish for quiet, just to sway.
But no, my mind is bound to this task,
Every letter, every click, every ask.
A last-minute change? No, not today.
It shakes the ground beneath my way.
I need my plans, my neat little list,
When things are messy, it’s hard to resist.
And then there’s the body language, too,
When words say one thing but gestures skew.
A raised eyebrow, a twitch of the lip
Am I missing something, or losing grip?
Lunch rolls around, but I don’t partake,
The sandwiches, the crisps, no mistake.
I’ll find a corner, sit alone,
I don’t need their food, their chatter, their tone.
Afternoon drags, the hours blend,
Each task is a hurdle, a means to an end.
But finally, the clock does tick,
I’m free to leave, to call it quits.
Back on the train, it’s just the same,
The apple crunch, the crisps to blame.
But now I’m tired, my mind is frayed,
Another day, another mask well played.
Home again, the door swings wide,
Two kids rush in, no time to hide.
One’s asking questions, the other in tears,
The evening’s demands tugging at my gears.
The autistic one, so much to explain,
Framing the words to ease his brain.
“Please, no shouting, we need to calm,”
While keeping the peace, I must sound warm.
But then there’s the other, “What about me?”
I can’t forget her needs, her plea.
I juggle it all, the words I craft,
Carefully choosing what will last.
My son needs structure, the world must make sense,
While my daughter needs love, and time to dispense.
I balance their worlds, one on each hand,
Trying to make them both understand.
It’s a dance of patience, of balance, of care,
Trying not to show how much I despair.
I’m not just a mother, a worker, a wife,
I’m piecing it all together, day after day of life.
And still, I laugh, when the evening ends,
My mask comes off, with family and friends.
We’ll face tomorrow, no matter the strife,
Because this is the art of living an autistic life.