by Kim Bewick
It’s chains, shackled at my wrists and ankles,
Body iron round my torso,
Whispers of insufficiencies, inadequacies, uselessnesses in my tender ear.
It’s swirling acid in the scientifically absent pit of my stomach,
Chanting from the deepest crevices of my brain,
“You are not good enough. You cannot do anything. You have no worth.”
It’s being on the verge of sobbing fits over empty cereal boxes,
Despairing over cat hair build up mere days after vacuuming,
Constantly on the edge of illness: scratchy throat, aching limbs, sandpaper eyes.
All these united saying, “Be still. Movement threatens you. Be still.”
I am still.
Kim Bewick (@kim_bewick) is a mother with autism who has two children with autism. She writes, paints, sews, and creates in many media expressing her experience as a mother with autism and about parenting children with autism. She is also active in autism advocacy. She lives with her partner, her children, two neurotypical stepsons, and two cats; they live happily together in sub-arctic Canada.