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Autism: Where the Words Come From

05 Dec

My anxiety has been extreme this week, and I really can’t find a reason why.

It has been hard to sleep, yet at the same time, I struggle to wake up in the morning. I guess all of this has to do with the medicine that I have been taking. Hopefully it will settle down soon.

Each day, when I sit at my computer to write my blog post, I say a prayer. I don’t want this to all be about me – though it is my blog. I want what I do, what I say, how I spend my time to matter… to be more than I could give on my own. And so I pray.

I read once (or many more times than that) – I think in one of the Anne of Green Gables books – that the characters would do their own thing, no matter how much Anne tried to make them behave. I feel much the same way about my writing.

Sometimes when I write, I start out with an inspiration – a thought I had, a recent experience, a struggle with emotion, or with my sensory issues… and I sit down with that thought, but still I pray.

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And the words flow. Always they flow from my fingers, as if it were someone else’s story I was reading; as if someone else were feeding me the words.

At the end of it all, I read over the post. Mostly I recognize the thought patterns as my own. I am sure the words have come from within me – yet I read them as if they belong to another.

I put much of myself into this blog, and share… probably more than I should at times, and frequently I claim the fear of the work of my hands being rejected.

If my words help another person, I feel good about that; it is what I want to do. Yet I don’t feel pride – is that the right word? Over the work that I have done. I am not sure the work is fully mine.

I am not sure I am expressing this well. It isn’t like I get the idea from other places. I don’t do research for my blog – though I likely have done research at other times on subjects that I have written about. The style is mine. The words are mine. The emotions are mine. The thoughts are mine. Yet I still don’t believe the posts are fully and truly mine.

Some days I will sit down fully intent on writing on one subject, and something completely different will come out. I am not exactly sure why this is, but it is, and that is enough.

Some times it takes me days, weeks even, to get back to that original idea for a post. It isn’t because I don’t want to write about it, or can’t find the words, but that something else must come out first.

So I write what comes, and I read it after, and I struggle with the insecurity that comes from putting so much of myself on display, and then I thank my Lord for once more providing the words to share.

And here I am again, saying, “thank you, Lord.”

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