This is a defiant rejection of the labels others try to place on me. People mistake depth and emotional honesty for weakness, assuming that sitting with pain makes me “stuck” or “a victim.” In reality, it takes enormous courage to face trauma head-on, to open the box others fear to touch, and to ride the storm until it breaks. Through myth and metaphor, my poem explores what it means to face horror directly and still find something unbreakable at the core.

This poem, Colouring with Mummy, captures a school morning with my second-born son, who has a PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance) profile. It shows how what looks like “defiance” is really his nervous system protecting him when demands feel overwhelming. His words, “stupid science, maths and PE, I just want to colour with mummy”, reveal both the struggle and the longing for safety. Colouring is more than a hobby for him: it’s a lifeline, a way to regulate, to feel choice and to be close to home.

This poem explores why a compliment can sometimes sting. It began with kind words, offered with admiration and respect, yet my nervous system reacted as if I had been criticised. This is not a criticism of the compliment or of the poet I was compared to. I have respect for both. The poem came from a place of curiosity. I wanted to explore my own automatic response and how I transition from that initial flare of defensiveness into a calmer, more understanding place.