We feel it. We know it’s there. But sometimes we really don’t believe it,

It’s in our heart. We wonder should I do that, do this, or even change?

Did I help? or the opposite, did I hinder?

Is it me or is it them?

We are told it’s them, we are told it’s neither,

We listen, we worry, we know we can’t change.

We want better. For them. for me. But then again we know

It’s guilt.

Guilt of difference. Fear of belonging. Knowing they belong in different ways,

Maybe not better ways. But definitely different.

Growing up is hard. Playing out with your brothers and sisters,

Knocking on the kids next door. Writing a song on the keyboard.

A badly written song. But you were kids. It was childhood.

You don’t want to talk about the guilt you feel. Bring the attention back to you.

But, you know it is always there.

Friends help to navigate these feelings, some people think they know more than you do,

They listen. And offer suggestions for this and that. Understanding is hard.

But when you really feel understood, you know you’ve found a gem,

“You need thicker skin”, I was once told,

I took this as a compliment. I thought I knew what she meant. I believed she cared.

That she understood. I was certain she was right.

She did not. She was not. She’s wonderful, I thought.

Almost hypnotised by the wonder that did not materialise,

We want to believe when we are young. They must know better than you.

Don’t they? Do they?

Staying up till two in the morning. Talking. Thinking you’re one of the club.

The in crowd. The chosen one.


Our past shapes our future. We carry the memories, the belief, the people.

The thoughts. Then and now.

How are we here? The journey we travelled,

We have a story. I know we all do, journalism school taught me so,

And somedays we reflect. Listening to ourselves.

Learning from the stories of others.

Knowing the conclusion will take time,

That conclusion you want? The understanding? Putting it to bed?

The guilt,

It’s complicated.

But what isn’t? The tribe you find along the way. As your story is told.

The tribe who get YOU for you.

And you know what? The guilt although it’s there. Feels distant,

We learn. We live with. We reflect,





The words to tell our story.




This entry was posted in Dyspraxia, Education, Mental health, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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