My writing has a new home!
Check it out at Unicorn Hollow on Substack
Hey there!
I write life. As it is. As it could be.
Thanks for stopping by!
Come on in. Read some of my work. Learn more about me. Leave me a comment.
Most importantly, make yourself at home.
Although I always felt loved, I wandered through childhood, teenage years, and into adulthood, frequently feeling like I was never quite understood–my best intentions offended, my questions irritated, my actions confused. I learned to tiptoe through life, lugging around a heavy, underlying dread – what I now recognize as anxiety – because I never quite understood where or when things would next go awry. Many days I still feel that way.
We are a unique lot over here in my house. Over the years, we have accumulated quite a library of neurodivergent diagnoses: Autism, Dyslexia, ADHD/ADD, Anxiety, Depression, Selective Mutism, Giftedness, Twice Exceptionality. Whatever the particular label that gets slapped on our lived experience, we understand the daily (sometimes hourly!) challenges of living in a world designed for people whose brains do not work like ours. We also relish our unique privilege of experiencing life in a way that many people miss.
We see, hear, and feel things that go largely unobserved.
In times of loneliness, stories of others like me have helped me to find a home. They have helped my family find a home. I want to contribute to that pool of literature that lets others say, “Ahhh!! Someone gets me!”
I hope you, too, can find a home here, in my stories.
On the Blog…
-
Impromptu Tuesday: Depletion and Shame and Emergence
I’m settling into the last two days of August, enjoying a brief – if soggy – reprieve from the oppressively heavy heat. My elderly cat has finally settled on my lap, having been forced to give up his attempt to lumber up and lounge atop my keyboard. The mosquitoes haven’t yet found me. And I’m…
-
Grasses
Rushing whispers crashing waves of sound and fury bending and bowing, a corps of dancers or synchronized swimmers stretching from one waterless horizon to the other. Crying with joy and unspeakable pain. They cannot dance when tamed, viciously snapped, brokenly even, doused to keep them under control. The uniformity, predictability, a form of beauty. Like…
-
The Lonely Summer
Apparently, I was lonely that summer. “My heart just broke for you,” my mom told me, years later. “You know, the summer when your friends stopped calling and everyone was busy with someone else? You just wandered around that summer, looking sad and alone and lost. No one was around when you called.” “I called…
Kiki Wilde Giuliani 