Amongst the cacophony of voices and footsteps, I try my best to make my way through the crowd as quickly as possible. Up some stairs, down some stairs, through corridors, across yards, back on myself. Where am I going? I’m not really sure. It’s weird that I’ve been called back. They say I didn’t sit one of my exams correctly, and I needed to return, after years of being away, to resit it. So here I am, a full grown adult and back in the place that makes me feel like I’m sailing on rocky waters. Too many people, too many rooms, too many mouths and not enough ears. School. I feel nauseous.

I wake up in a cold sweat and realise how daft my dream was. I fall back to sleep.

I’m in my thirties and I still regularly think about school. Nightmares too.

The frequent ruminating isn’t nostalgia, which to me is a bittersweet sadness driven by being unable to live a lovely part of your life again. School wasn’t a lovely part of my life.

As the saying goes, ‘Hell is other people.’ For many autistic children, this could be ‘Hell is other kids.’

I’ve alluded to it in other newsletters, but I was bullied throughout primary and secondary school by various people, about various things. I won’t list them, that’d be a strange exercise in self-flagellation which benefits no-one. It’s also irrelevant because ultimately, no-one should be bullying anyone for any reason ever. It’s never justified.

Naturally, kids form loyal friendship groups that promote a bit of that ‘us vs them’ mentality. So when they sense someone amongst them is not quite like them, that’s a potential target for ridicule (I’m not sure about the reasons why this is the case. I’m no behavioural psychologist. I’m fully armchair-based only. I do think there’s a lot to be said for children who don’t have great home lives using other children at school as ways to take their frustration and anger out on. Or to simply win the friendships of others. Bullying is complex. Of course, the reasons why children or adults bully others does not absolve that person of their guilt in any way.)

Not only was I different, but I was extremely naive of my difference and unintentionally very loud and proud about it. It’s like walking around with a ‘kick me’ sign on your back that you drew yourself. I lived in a technicolour world wearing my emotions and my intense interests and my opinions on my sleeve, and I said what I meant. I was fully unmasked, undiluted me. The bullying conditioned me to hide who I am, for a very long time, years after school had ended.

When I look back, I realise that the problem I had with school didn’t just end with the people who bullied me. It extended to their enablers - teachers who in their own odd way endorsed the bullying.

I am hoping against hope that this is a problem that was left in the naughties and has since been mostly eradicated by training on neurodiversity, safeguarding and general competency around being an inclusive teacher. But I was definitely taught by a few individuals who egged on my bullies and should have known better. Teachers who told me I needed to ‘toughen up’, ‘take the rough with the smooth’ and ultimately to stop being such a ‘cry baby’.

Of course, I also had teachers who were wonderful, inspiring and protective of me. I haven’t forgotten about them either. One of them outright told me I could realistically be a published author when I grew up. I have never forgotten that.

The nightmares returned fairly recently after a time away. I’m wondering why that is. Perhaps it’s because for the first time in my adult life I can say that I am loving the person I am becoming. That I feel true to myself. That I am mostly unmasked in all the environments I feel safe in. Perhaps it’s the guilt of feeling like this which is rising up from within and trying to knock me down a peg or two.

Well, it won’t work. I like being this way. I love knowing who I am. I want to write more on this topic because I feel it is so important, especially for neurodivergent people. I’m one of the lucky ones who survived long enough to learn about the ‘why’, and now I’m starting to truly live. I’ve never been so happy.

I don’t have to go to school tomorrow. Or ever again. That makes me even happier.

‘Through the Window’ - My First Poetry Zine

I have published my first ever poetry zine! These ten poems are a mixed bag of jokes and pathos - from exploring what it feels like to be an outsider, to a true story about my Nan attempting aerobics. There’s three mentions of sandwiches, so make of that what you will.

The zine itself is 12 pages, black and white, with a glossy cover. The front and back pages feature illustrations by me.

If you would like a copy, you can find hard copies for sale on my Etsy shop, and PDF copies available through my Patreon.

Buy a copy on Etsy

Download a PDF copy on Patreon

I read the first review of the zine the other day where a kind reader told me it’s ‘very good’! If you buy a copy do let me know what you think (and if it’s negative, warn me first so I can go and hide…)

Thanks to everyone who has bought a copy so far, it means the world!

Take it easy,

Ren