Oslo, 4th of August 2019

After the fear that overwhelmed me yesterday I’m now ready to start writing again.

Just a few moments ago I was standing by the window and watching a quite inspiring scene: two young seagulls were standing on a roof and calling out the attention of an adult to get food. I imagine the adult as their mother. She flew down to them but not directly to them, she landed on another roof, near but not quite, as to say “I’ve got the food but you also have to do your part”. First one of them, then the other flew by her. But she seemed to have had a change of heart so she started to walk away, with the two young almost hanging by her nebb. Frustrated, she flew away in the end.

It was time for them to grow and get their own food.

I probably imagined everything but when she flew away, there was a moment when our glaze met and it felt like we connected. I suddenly realize how much I would like to learn to fly. There was something so comforting in the way she flew. 

I thought about my mother and all the mothers that have a son or a daughter with Autism.

How hard must be! Yes it’s tough on us, but what mustn’t be for them? whom have given us birth, give us a home, let us be who we are, fought us, let us go and then open their arms toward us all the time we felt lost at sea and didn’t have anywhere to go but back to our mothers.

Even now, I’m a grown woman and yet, right now ,I just would like to go home, go back to my mom. 

But them what? As soon as I would have got my energy back I would leave like I did so many times before.

Start from zero sounds like a good fresh start but it becomes a routine it may become quite unhealthy.

My father who is a very wise men, today surprised me saying this “My darling, one doesn’t grow roots because choses to, but because the choice one makes let them grow. One may have the desire to grow them as well but to let them grow deep and strong it has to happen all naturally”

It seems to me that I’ve been seeding the mark quite a lot in the last few years but as soon as I do so I leave and let them dry. Why? I have no clue. I always thought that to be cool one has to be exotic and for me being exotic means being extravagant with lots of stories to tell. A vagabond in other words. There is nothing better than traveling to learn stories to tell!

I’m not sure though if I would recommend this life to a person that has autism. Not as a lifestyle at least. Travel is going to be my answer to almost anything, but it has to be done in a way that doesn expose us to us, and that was my mistake. I exposed myself to much and doing so my energies (that for us aspies are gold) expired very quickly. And that’s how I ended up in the staircase of a hostel in Oslo, on the phone with my boyfriend with tears that flow down my cheeks like norwegians fjords. 

I have to stop and regroup. Tomorrow I’ll take the first train and go visit him in Stockholm. Aspie to Aspie, he knows always how to give me my strenght back.


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