This poem began as a moment of doubt – What am I? I questioned whether what I write really “counts” as poetry, because my work isn’t traditional – it’s literal, psychological, and driven by the need to understand, not to impress. My style sits somewhere between reflection and therapy, blending emotion, insight, and self-awareness into something that feels human and useful. I don’t write to sound poetic; I write to make sense of myself – and in doing so, I’ve discovered a method that helps others

This poem tells the story of my second-born son, who has a PDA profile. While we went out to a restaurant for a friend’s birthday, he chose to spend the evening at his Nana’s house instead. It captures how hard it can be to get three lively, neurodivergent boys out of the house, the panic of being late, and the pressure of restaurant settings where social rules and judgment weigh heavily. This is not just a story about a boy “behaving”. It’s a story about what happens when PDA is understood.

This poem is about living with alexithymia – the difficulty of identifying and expressing emotions, even when I am feeling them intensely. My emotional world often moves like water: sometimes flooding everything without warning, sometimes disappearing into stillness where even I cannot find it. This can look like emotional distance or unpredictability from the outside. Inside, it feels like trying to interpret weather patterns without a forecast.