Blog by Dana Latisha Young
A.K.A Day Love
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What’s your dream job?
My dream job is to be a writer of books, plays, poems, and articles. It’s always been my dream job and I am determined to make it happen.
I write poetry and I officially started a poetry blog. Now I need to take the next steps to accomplish my dream.
Poem by Dana L. Young
Today was hard
Listening to the doctor speak
But not fully grasping the words
My brain refused to hold onto.
Tired eyes and mind
Bright office, repetitive sounds,
Too formal
Two chairs facing a walnut
Rectangular paper coated desk
And another chair.
A computer partially turned towards
My mom and I.
An on demand reciprocal Q and A session
But I was not a verbal participant.
Mute because speech to me seemed
Foreign,
Unknown,
Unwanted,
Too hard,
An unsolvable problem,
Insurmountable,
Too huge to attempt.
And there was comfort in my silence.
A sigh of relief in my heart.
A vacation in my mind.
I could not return easily to
The visibility of this verbal experience.
Today was a hard day
Listening to my mom and the doctor speak
But unable to break my voice
Out of the shelter it took refuge in.
Tell us one thing you hope people say about you.
Generous
Poem by Dana Young
I Hope They Say that I was
Generous
With my time, freely being there when it’s needed.
Generous
With my space, freely sharing a part of my world.
Generous
With my money, giving to those who need it.
And most importantly,
Generous with my heart.
Loving freely despite feeling out of touch with most of my emotions.
I still will show love however I can.
I Hope They Say that I am
Generous
Poem by Dana Young
Sometimes I wonder who I am.
The answer is overshadowed by my
Unwanted ability to mirror whoever I
Meet
Chipping away at my essence,
And taking on theirs almost like a second skin.
Covering my skin that people tell me
Is flawed.
So I subconsciously take on their
Persona.
The parts of them that seem normal,
Loved and accepted.
Hiding pieces of me that I don’t want to seek.
A game that I can’t afford to play.
And I don’t know the rules too.
Not when it comes to finding me.
The person that is buried beneath
The layers,
Covered under metaphorical blankets
To stay safe and secure from the
Outside world.
A place too big and scary
That I face anyway
Because what’s the alternative?
I’m on a journey now to find out who
I am.
And who I’m meant to be.
Without a map, without a key.
But the destination is…me.
Poem by Dana Young
What’s something most people don’t know about you?
Poem by Dana L. Young
Everyone has seen my extreme timidness.
My abnormal ways of existing.
To them I was just strange,
Unusual but typical me.
So much beneath the surface.
Hidden from the unseeing
Eye.
Hidden in plain sight
Was the reason for my quirks and
Actions.
The explanation for my mind
And ways of thinking.
But no one suspected.
No one could truly see
The real me
The “me” I didn’t mask successfully
But to others, I hid too well.
The “me” that becomes quickly overwhelmed,
Anxious and selectively mute at times.
The “me” that struggles to find the right words to say in every situation.
Which can turn a brief text or phone conversation
Into a prolonged, nail-biting, anxiety filled situation.
The ‘me” that always longed to fit in
But never felt capable.
The me that has sensitivities that I knew
Were abnormal.
And the “me” that wishes to tell her story
And to hopefully see understanding and hope
Appear on the listeners’ faces.
When I reveal that yes,
I am Neurodivergent.
And yes, I’m still me.
The “me” they’ve always known
But never really saw.
I’m revealing the veiled person
Behind my metal mask.
And finally introducing myself.
Hi, My name is Dana L. Young
And I am Autistic.
Poem by Dana Young
I don’t feel any older
But I’m another age once more
It’s not like there is a makeover
The day I turned 34.
It’s not like every dream I ever
Dreamed came true
Not like I wished for when
I was 32.
The day feels ordinary like
Just another day.
But I’m older, questionably wiser
At least that’s what I’d say
I don’t feel much like celebrating
In the normal way we do.
Not in full party mode
Like when I turned 32.
I kinda want a quiet day that’s
Filled with love and peace
And it’s starting that way
For me today at least.
I’m replying to the best wishes
And blessings like I do always.
Then relaxing in my bed.
There are many different ways
To celebrate birthdays
And I choose this way instead.
No clubs or public settings.
I’m happy celebrating with
my mom, peace, and laughter.
Those are my blessings.
Poem by Dana L. Young
I’ve been on a journey of discovery
Of who I am and who I’m meant to be.
Realizing along the way that my mask
Is slipping.
The me I disguise buried deep
But existing.
The me who acts strange to the
unknowing eye.
So overwhelmed that at times
I can cry.
Frustration and exhaustion claiming
Space in my mind
As I try to follow the “normal” person
Outline.
The unofficial rulebook that shows
How to act in society
Each action feels false and unnatural
To me.
Another social event failed that I
Couldn’t endure.
Public settings, overwhelming, loud
Just too much.
No more.
My mask is hanging on by a thread
Daring me to remove it or keep it on
But I panic and freeze instead.
Feeling seen but unseen at once.
I take it off but replace it with a new one.
A fresh mask with new ideals attached
For a new beginning, a new way to
Successfully mask
To try to be a neurotypical individual
Just an average adult girl
But still living in my Atypical world.
Ideal Home
Poem by Dana Young
My mother in the kitchen
making her famous Potato Salad
Baked Mac and cheese or chicken.
the smells wafting throughout the house.
Making my siblings and I
watch the clock in anticipation.
The coziness of love and laughter
Floating in the air as we swap memories.
Decorations and pictures on the walls,
the framing backdrop of another holiday.
Smiles forming on our faces every minute.
Millions of inside jokes shouted,
Over the volume of classic Christmas songs.
Wrapping paper overflowing from the
trash can.
Revealing the toys beneath,
Scattered on the floor
My ideal home is my childhood over Christmas
breaks from school.
I wish I could rewind time and freeze it.
Forever preserving the memory
And living it again in real time.
Poem by Dana L. Young
I’ve lost my sense of wonder
That awestruck look of amazement.
The innocence of a first experience
And the wow factor that comes with
New experiences
I’ve lost my sense of wonder
And I can’t seem to get it back.
I miss that feeling in my youth of first moments
First kisses, first loves, first dates.
A lot of firsts remain wistful
memories or photos stored
in a tin.
I’ve lost my sense of wonder
I don’t know how to get it back
At times I don’t miss it.
But I still wonder…
If I will ever feel that way again
