450: The voice of my tears

I have been struggling with issues of the heart, both physical and spiritual. I have been to the emergency room five times and hospitalized for five days. I am still in a state of limbo, waiting to hear back about an appointment with the specialist. In time, I will collect my thoughts, and share more of this ordeal, one of the darkest nights of my soul. For now, I am leaking out bits of my own truisms. Here I have collected a few that have come through the echo of my heart ache. Much love to you. May you know I know your suffering and celebrate the life and light that is you.

I am tired of being misunderstood, seen and then unseen. I don’t know how to walk in this world. I don’t know how to be. Every effort is squashed. When I jump, I jump too far. When I reach, I reach too far. I don’t know how to stop, what I never knew how to start. It seems the only thing I know how to do in this crazy life is fall, to cry, to crumble, to be absolutely demolished despite my efforts, and to then pick myself back up and carry on. Nothing is simple anymore, and never was, and I long for that faraway place beyond complexity, where my mind is still, the ocean my very soul, carrying me in union cross the waters of tears.


Do you ever feel like your life is stuck in the second to the last chapter of a novel? You have reached the climax, emotions are on overdrive; you are about to unravel and discover all the truths that came before the foreshadowing, to behold your destiny, and at last reach your conclusion—the hero’s quest complete. When BANG, all the pages are torn out, the words blown away, and you are left hovelled in a puddle of nothing, wondering what happened to your story?


I am tired of people loving the parts of me they like, the parts that reflect them, the parts that bring them this self-created false comfort. I want to be loved in fullness, to a degree that has been lost in this world of dictated dangers and frailties. I want to be upheld for my goodness time and time again; not repeatedly told how I should mold and conform for another. I’m so busy trying to understand the complexities of bending for everyone into a shape they need in order to be recognized as worthy, that I get lost in my own self, searching for the light I was born with, a light I want to shine, at all costs, despite the blinding stares from the opposition. Cruel world, stop trying to make me into what suits you and criticizing me for what doesn’t. I have no limitations beyond the reflections pounced upon me.


I refuse to be happy when I am not. Covering up what we are in the moment is the cause of the destruction of this world. So much fear of being and feeling the uncomfortable. We have been taught to avoid with all cost the inevitable state of sadness. Sadness is okay. It isn’t scary. It isn’t wrong; and it’s not meant to be celebrated or snuffed out of existence. It just is. This place we call home could be marvelously better, if we each just embraced ourselves as is, in the illusion of flaws and failures; and like the emotion of sadness, if we just let ourselves be at a level state, beyond good and bad, right and wrong, then the whole of us would be free.


I love and respect myself in all my emotional states. None is better or worse than the other. All is a sea of me, intermingled and mixed; none is in and of itself, able to be extracted, labeled and classified. Each is a part of the magnificent whole of “We Are.” Each to be celebrated in their unity; reached in their effort; touched for being.


And she cried out, “Open your eyes and see, awake to the truth of you;” the only problem being that she no longer existed to convince them that their eyes were closed, no longer desired to point out the illusion of distraction, of trickery, of falsehood; all that she was in totality only wished to be free and wild and open; only the others, the ones with the imaginary views, they trapped her in their ways, making her believe she was the one forever asleep.


People aren’t blind. They are satisfied with the view. They forget what rests beyond the horizon. They forget that the eyes can’t cry for what the soul can’t see.


I loved you ’till the hollowed part of me emerged, and I saw myself emptied; in recognition of this absence, I wept for my return, only to find that you had filled the last of me; and all that remained was this broken shell of the girl I once was. I stand now, a woman formed in her dignity and gratitude, a woman thankful for whatever life was bled out of her; for in the weeping of red I was torn back into whom I had always been—the strength turned two-fold from what was lost and again found–a warrior rebirthed into existence.


Starvation and deprivation are two different things. One can be starved and not recognize the hunger, the pangs masked by preoccupation, but once one recognizes deprivation, a dying thirst erupts that cannot be quenched nor ignored. With starvation the soul slowly withers in unknown solitude. In deprivation the spirit calls out to be filled, to be watered, to have the life waters returned. I have often been starved for love but it was not until I awakened to my own deprivation that I knew what was missing.

(These are all thoughts I have had this morning)

15 thoughts on “450: The voice of my tears

  1. Hi Sam,

    I don’t know why you are in the hospital. From my gathered thoughts of your writings I am seeing an aching misunderstood heart. Who knows what kind of ill you have been. I have been every kind and have spent days in the hospital for reasons of the heart and mind that tied into my body.

    Struggling with eating disorders and questions of faith… wondering about God and nature…physically ill and undiagnosed… being sick to the point of self harm… Ill in my heart wondering if anyone could see the world in the depth I could and feel so alone. Whatever is going on with you be it physical, emotional or spiritual my heart is with you as read your post and felt your pain.

    I will continue to think of you and will pray for you to find yourself in a healthy place.

    If anything I’m saying echoes in your heart I would love to hear from you and support you as you walk through this.

    Blessings to your body, mind and spirit,

    Just another unique girl…

  2. As ever Sam, I can add no words. You swing between the agony and the ecstasy, and you are all of that and far far more. Thank you for your fine wildness.

  3. Wishing you light in the hard times. Thank you for reaching out with your always amazing, inspiring, consoling and brave writing.

  4. Feeling your pain through your words. I hope writing can help you with all you are dealing with right now. I hope you are feeling better very soon. Xx

  5. Hi Sam,
    I have been reading through your letters in amazement. I have a little Aspie girl, she is 7 yrs old, your words seem to fit so well with what she feels. She is so young but she has a broken heart, she cries and cries. She tells me there is not enough love to help her heart, but she is surrounded by love. She told me she closed her heart when she was 6, to protect herself from the pain and the fear. So now she has less fear but a broken heart. I am so blown away how such a small girl can explain these things to me. But also sad for her, she begs me to make her life easier, she tells me she wants to die, but as much as i am devoting myself entirely to help her I cannot. Thank you for writing I will continue to read your work although it does make me sad for her and you.
    Hoping you are feeling better soon
    Melissa xx

  6. I am sorry that you were feeling so miserable. I think being misunderstood is especially a realistic experience for individuals on the autism spectrum. For me, I have experienced misunderstanding with NTs and ASD individuals alike. Isolation and even paranoia (at times) are common themes for me. I find it so very important to remind myself, especially at these times, that God does love me and will work all things out for my good (though I wish He were quicker sometimes! :-)) He has brought many good things to pass in the midst of very hard times (such as my mother’s death last year). I have been in the hospital both for psych and medical reasons (more psych). Overall not very helpful or healthful. I think we live in a very impatient society. We are so aware of anything we want to be as a people with mobile technology at our fingertips, but the level of compassion and patience can be sorely lacking, sometimes even with family. It isn’t the quantity of wonderful people God puts in our lives, but the quality. Personally, I like fewer people in my life as I can concentrate on giving back emotionally and not being overwhelmed. I hope you are doing better 7 months after writing this post. God bless you,
    autisticaplanet ♥

  7. P.S. Right on! Never wear a mask and hide your true self. Be honest with how you are doing. If others feel inconvenienced by this, there is a good chance they aren’t going to be the most reliable and close people in your life. Focus on the ones who are. The closest people in my life are in heaven, but I remind myself daily (and sometimes hourly) that I do have a couple of people in my life who do love and take care of me. I will keep you in prayer.

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