I watch my feet when I walk. Always have. I’ve learned my feet have a mind of their own when left out of my sight. ‘Look at your feet or trip and fall,’ became my internal monologue.

My father let me know my behavior was Normal, to a certain point. He also let me know when I passed that point. I think he knew I was like him. Others let me know when I passed those points in different ways. Not with gentle words of encouragement or with daring pleas to go into the world with confidence. Something he could never manage. Others let me know my behavior was weird.

When I was diagnosed my inclination was to explore the parts I suppressed. I didn’t have the chance then, but I do now. That is what this blog is for. I want to go back to watching my feet while I walk. Go back to the unassuming confidence of a child just existing. I want to be myself. I want to be Joseph, stumbling in his shoes, with his gaze fixed firmly aground.

Split and torn stem

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