mentalhealth
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The Case of Gentleman Jack When the archaeologist holds the remains of past ages, what stories pass through their fingers?The time traveller must borrow archaisms if she is to be heard at all, to prevent time from editing meaning into misread stories, so that others might hear what she heard. She took to a gambol…
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Having an autistic burnout, and then relapsing into another while still in it, feels like standing outside of life. Everything is moving.You can see it, feel it, smell it.But you are not in it. You are not part of it. Time keeps passing, but every step forward feels like falling deeper into an abyss. It…
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Even new methods are designed in the moment, and the many moods that come of man and their minds. Even when travelling in time, we cannot influence the mood of the city, nor ask it to. We don’t breathe the air they breathe; we are only observing in the vast existence. We turn a corner,…
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Wandering in early-morning thought, I began to ponder this little musing. We have become sloppy and careless.We have lost the skill to understand poetry,or even to stay with what we are reading and hearing. We speak without thought.We build strong bodies, cultivate minds, and learn to understand our emotions…But where is eloquent language?In what writing…
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The Lady of the Lake Speaks Her wisdom does not allow imperial-minded restriction,where fear destroys what it cannot control,and then calls the ruin protection. To speak of autism is not a story from the Book of Invasion.But a plea to the folk, to educate themselves, to loosen their grip on old beliefs that turn naming…
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Can she still navigate the waters? Or must she learn to trust her inner compass again? Now that she knows the truth, grief follows. Grief for the woman she thought she was. As she revisits old conversations and old silences, replaying social moments with new eyes, wondering what was misread and what was endured.…
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What if “disorder” was only the world’s narrow word for evolution? What is magic in a world bound by the laws of the ordinary mind?It is the colour hidden beneath the black-and-white veil, the secret song smothered by the fear of the unknown. They silence the flowering ones, for they mistake bloom for danger, and…
Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens 