KSP Writer’s Circle Exercise

The evil old woman (my mum) was right, dag nab it, it is faster to type the exercises straight into the computer.

Today’s exercise was to go to a place around the building and write how it made us feel.  Funnily out of 7 people 2  of us wrote about the bathrooms; I wrote about the outside one and another lady wrote about the indoor one.  As per usual Mum refused to even try to write.

Anyway here it is:

I love this place, I feel secure and at home.

It doesn’t make any sense; it goes against all my beliefs about myself.

When I go to “the little girl’s room I have certain demands, no needs.  I mean in the past I have become ill because I just couldn’t function if the bathroom wasn’t ‘right’.

It has to be clean, perfectly clean; shiny white tile and gleaming stainless steel clean.  I can see a dead leaf stuck in a hole on the wall & there is God knows what black muck in the sink.  There are cracks in the concrete floor.

It has to be 100% free of all insect life, if an insect can get in then a spider can.  I know what part of that black muck is now; it’s a dead spider.  The only thing more scary than a live spider; you know because of the hordes of angry grieving relatives, the bigger, nastier spider that just killed it, or the reawakened zombie spider that can not be killed or even stopped.  I am scaring myself.

I have to have privacy.  In Japan there are keyring devices to make noise to cover up “the sound”, so I’m not alone in this particular lunacy.  There are open panels with only wire very broad blocked wire covering them & it is situated right slap bang next to the exit/entrance.

But I don’t care I love it; the wood, the green painted floor the pretty curtain, the space.  It feels like home, I feel safe and secure; nestled into the hillside in my own little world.

I believe I was born in the country maybe it harkens back to memories that are in my subconscious.  Maybe it speaks to who I wish I was!


On the way home Mum did suggest the attachment may be to my memories of Korumburra where we lived until I was 5 or 6.  Teeny, tiny little place on the southern tip of Victoria; definitely rural.

KSP Writers’ Centre


Published by autistsix

An autistic woman married to an autistic man trying to raise 4 autistic daughters in a neurotypical world

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