By Emily
This poem explains my personal experience with healthcare professionals. I don’t know if it is because I’m a woman, or because my default is to mask, but my experience with mental health is never taken seriously. For years I have felt invisible to the people who should understand me the most, and for that reason I wanted to write this piece.
Am I invisible to you?
Am I invisible to you?
My mask is secured; you can’t see through,
I was told that professionals could detect the truth,
But I am still invisible, even to you.
‘Autism’s a spectrum’, they say,
Almost dismissing the struggles, they persist everyday!
Why can’t you fathom the pain still remains?
Maybe it’s because I'm invisible.
I lay my cards out on the table,
You claim I’m too young to be given a label,
‘You present yourself well, you’re emotionally stable’,
Still, I remain invisible.
If I were a boy, would my voice be heard?
Would you still look at me, are my thoughts still absurd?
Would you still tell me I cannot be cured?
I’m screaming for help, but you won’t take my word.
Maybe it’s because I'm invisible.
