TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Supposed Indifference in Asperger’s

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I climbed down

from the tangled branches

of my thoughts

to greet you

but it was too late

you were gone.

Don’t give up on me

I love you can’t you see

but there is such difficulty

all because I am Aspie.

(Click http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/ellen-stockdale-wolfe.html  for information on, and to purchase my Bipolar/Asperger’s memoir.)

 

8 responses

  1. bennetta faire

    Beautiful poem, Ellen–and it has me pondering about some “indifferent” folks I’ve known….

    Like

    September 20, 2013 at 6:59 PM

    • And your instincts are probably right. Thanks for writing. Hugs, Ellen

      Like

      September 20, 2013 at 7:04 PM

  2. Intense imagery of the tangled branches of thoughts, quite an apt picture of a perspective of the Asperger syndrome. Supposed indifference is often misunderstood. This poem reflects the pathos of people inflicted with Asperger’s syndrome, and I can feel it from the words. Thank you for bringing this to light and making us more aware of this condition. Upon looking it up, there are a lot of famous people who have contributed a lot to society, who were also inflicted with Asperger’s syndrome — wow, Abraham Lincoln, Mozart, Emily Dickinson, Thomas Edison, Michelangelo, Mark Twain, Albert Einstein, Carl Jung, Beethoven, etc. etc.

    Like

    September 20, 2013 at 10:00 PM

    • Thank you, Dee, for looking it up (I should have provided a link) and for your kind comment. I am glad my points got across to you. By the way, I love your posts!

      Like

      September 21, 2013 at 10:59 AM

  3. I suspect no one can truly understand – it must be painful to experience their misunderstanding

    Like

    September 21, 2013 at 8:16 AM

    • Well, it was in the past more so– but no more, and probably less, painful than a LOT of other things! Thanks for understanding, though. People like you are rare indeed!

      Like

      September 21, 2013 at 10:57 AM

  4. I feel as though I am caught often deep within the banks and valleys of my mind, staring into space as if looking for a hole in reality, something to tell me it’s a dream. Then I wake to find someone is trying to talk to me about something trivial, and I’ve been tearing holes in the very fabric of space..

    Like

    October 6, 2013 at 7:45 AM

    • This is such a spiritual comment. The Hindus believe our supposed “reality” is all delusion, a dream, “Maya” they call it. I know those dips and valleys of supposed “real” life. When I was deep in psychosis which I describe in my memoir in detail, I could switch back and forth between two realities and non one even knew how far out into inner space I was.

      Like

      October 6, 2013 at 11:46 AM

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