JungleLand

A bad thing happened to me. I won't be doing a grand reveal, like some sort of whimsical, bearded magician. I don't want to publicly talk about it in explicit terms. But I do want to reflect on how we all process trauma, autistic or not. We, as a culture and a society, especially in Britain, especially in England, are particularly bad at giving ourselves, or rather being given, time to cope, reflect and act on what we've exeperienced. Talking about abuse, or grief, or anxieties is almost haram . Being open about not just feelings, but also the way in which past trauma has shaped you as a person, as a father, mother, sister, etc., acts as a foam battering ram against the sturdy, wooden gates that protect the perfect, stoic, beer-swilling utopia that some people feel England is. No matter the assurances we get from rich or affected public figures that its okay to talk about your feelings, it is still taboo. Ellen DeGeneres posts about profound senses of isolation from her mu