Ems

I’m 44 - neurodivergent, work in childcare by day and scribble questionable poetry by night I spend my days negotiating with tiny humans and my evenings negotiating with the tiny humans living inside my own head Writing is how I quiet the noise or at least give it something else to do My brain is loud my emotions have no volume control and apparently overthinking is one of my unpaid full time jobs I write about the messy bits the uncomfortable bits the things we probably should not say out loud but absolutely need to Poetry gives me somewhere to dump the chaos without having to explain why my brain works the way it does No filter no pretending no polished inspirational nonsense Just real words real feelings a bit of darkness a bit of humour and the occasional emotional dumpster fire Basically I’m trying to make sense of being a human in a world that seems suspiciously designed by people who never had to deal with my brain So I write Because apparently therapy is expensive and metaphors are free