Video Summary

A cinematic spoken word piece that cuts through decades of family silence with surgical precision.

Set against the Heaven's Gate cult tragedy and Hale-Bopp comet of 1997-98, this hybrid performance follows three wintry family gatherings where religious expectations collide with neurodivergent reality.

Watch what happens when an autistic adult finally stops performing "normal" at the dinner table - and pays the price.

This isn't therapy. Not self-help. No “cautionary tale.” It's a multi-layered examination of what we neurodivergents sacrifice. Trying to “belong” in families that were never built for hearts like ours.

Unflinching. Complex. Necessary.

Content Note: Strong language, family trauma, religious themes, substance use, mental health struggles, cult references

Key Themes Explored:

* Power dynamics at family tables where neurodivergent minds are judged as broken

* Spiritual coercion and religious weaponizing against those who think differently

* The breaking point when pretending to be neurotypical becomes impossible

* Self-medication as shield against overwhelming social demands

* Searching for meaning in systems designed to erase your kind of mind

* Memory as witness to the violence of forced conformity

Who This Resonates With:

* Autistic adults who recognize the battlefield of family holidays

* Anyone who's been the truth-teller in a family that prefers lies

* People untangling religious conditioning from neurodivergent shame

* Those hungry for real conversation about mental health… that skips the tacked-on happy endings

* Readers drawn to generational trauma explored through disability lens

* Anyone who knows that sometimes survival looks like betrayal

* Anyone working with neurodivergent minds. Who wants to really understand what we're carrying

Discussion Starters:

* How do family gatherings change when you stop performing neurotypical?

* What price have you paid for speaking uncomfortable truths?

* Do you recognize the intersection of religious pressure and neurodivergent shame?

* How do you survive spaces where your honesty threatens everyone's comfort?

Connect:

* Drop your own family table survival tactics below

* Subscribe for more unmasking without apology

Free Resources & Purchase Links

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Transcript

Intro

But I ain't going to lie, this next one's rough and long and complex. Plain spoken in its own way, but complex.

It may not need a TS Elliott-pretentious kind of footnote, but I try to intertwine family, control, and religion and very real events from my winter of '97-'98.

And just for you youngsters... if there are some... I'll remind you that was when the Hale-Bopp comet was fading in northern New York skies and the memory of the Heaven's Gate suicide cult was still fresh in the national mind.

This is a hybrid piece. In my mind, it's a movie with scenes, background music, jump cuts. But, uh, you guys probably loved Pulp Fiction. Given

that, I pray you can follow me in this one.

Sneaking my mother's creepy g-d on high

Prelude, December 1997.

ESTABLISHING SHOT

I begin, “There…There's Heaven's Gate.”She fiddles with the binox dials.

“Where should I look?”She asks breathless,Trudging bootless.I barely hear herOver the crackling snowBeneath my feet, but say,

“There…That smudge in the sky.”I point again.

UFO Cult Chooses Suicide,The TV said.Thirty-nine bodiesIn matching Nikes,The photo read.No Kool-Aid on crime scene,The coroner led off…

I close wet eyesTo the hiss & sizzleOf the Northern LightsOver my head,

Silence

Then the cold murmurof the cold mother...“That's why they died?”She shrugs.

My eyes open… careful, I shrug,

“Maybe… they saw a signal from aliens.Or maybe God on high.Who knows what grimdark signThey read that silent night…”

Wordless, clueless… a comet sailedRibbons of green and purple light.One cold blue, one hot pink tailFading from history’s sight…

So we stroll on intoFake New Year’s dinnerCuz not everyoneCould schedule inThe Real One.

How rare it isA two-tailed comet in the sky,A lover doesn’t lie with her eyes,To greet one free man before you die,How rare it isHow rare it is

Dinner Music

POINT-OF-VIEW SHOT

my mother in a halo of candlesmy mother wrapped in smokemy mother in dark shadowsmeasuring the length of my rope

She gathers reports from her childrenThis year’s fugue & pedal point,Her table a feast of sand.

Youngest Mark files his,A new open source project…“I’m really getting seen.”Lifting my glass to himFrom the dark walnut table,I sip vodka… Neat.

Martha next, from her foreign outpost

A well-received talk given…

Vodka. Neat.

Second-oldest Luke comments,Wearing a dead father’s mantle“So proud of this my familyProgress on nearly every front.John, you seem…Well, better… strangely.”Yeah. Vodka. Neat. And deep.

Mary reports a year in faith.Jesus gave her home.Jesus gave her kids.Jesus gave her strength… alone.

I close my eyes in frustrationSee only those twin tailsSailing in that dark…No wine, no waferJust vodka. Neat.

The broken mother nods,Waves a weary hand at each.Then turns to me,Product of her first postpartum,Eldest stranger at her table.She faintly smiles…, “John?”

This last-invited autistDrunk to a numb survivalStarts slow… and slurred,“Ya know…?Never… believed… in heroes.Those guys & their comet?They did.”

I hear hands tense,Casual wear shift & rustle,Eyes crinkle & narrow…Familiar, family sounds.

My runaway trainpicks up steamplunging on and intoa dark tangential tunnel

“A part of me rejects a g-dborn perfect without sin,casually tossing miracleslike candy & coins… sublimefrom a gaudy Mardi Gras floatTo kids playing in the grime…”

I gulp a breath.

Silence

a child, high on a stone altara hand… a knife in mid air…a sacrfice for appearanceslike thirty-nine bodiesin matching Nike pairs…

How fair is itJesus and Jim JonesBoth got emails from Beyond,Love rusts tilIt’s just one more bond,Your soul’s released whenYour last day’s dawned,How fair is itHow fair is it

Interlude, January 1998

FLASH CUT

Couple weeks laterIce Storm of ‘98.A friendly… family,Game of cards.

Frozen in time, frozen in mindAunts, uncles and cousinsNo one’s got power, trapped…Cabin, cards, liquor… discussions.

Killing time… 3 days…Instead of each other.

Oh shit. Oh. Shit…There goes that bidI swore I could make.Under my breath… “Damn it to Hell.”Then head down, out loud,“Oh, Shit.”

I’m staring at the hand they dealt.So many near-miss combosSo many runs that went nowhere…“My bad. I shoulda played that 9My mind’s off wandering againLet me grab that back. This time.”

“No…You gotta drink …Ya gotta drink!This time…Every time!”

Rinse repeatMistake over mistakeVodka neat, vodka neatVodka…

I… wake to… laughter

“Uncle Johnny, you’re the dudeFrom stuck up cuntTo puking your shoes.Man, can you let go… when you want.”

And let go... I did.

A distracted juggler drops his satin ball,A drunken knife thrower ties assassins & assistants to the wall,The smoking fortune teller wheezes, “Doom finds us all,”A Ring Master’s whip echoes through an emptying hall….

Cadenza, for the End of Time

EXTREME WIDE PANNING SHOT

My catechism askedWhy did that g-d make me?And I askWhy did this unbonded mom have me?To both cluck in disappointment?Over commandmentsI was bornUnable to follow…?

To follow a comet into…Desperation Dissolution Suicide And the Peace…Of no need for understanding?Ever again?

There is no heroNo godNo bodhisattvaNo parent…That does not hideThe dazzling ConfusionIn a burning bush

Or explains to meLike I’m a five-year oldWhy that twin-tailed cometStill sails across my mind

How rare it isTo find a godDoesn’t want moreThan he gave,A lover who can stay…Even while I rave,A man who can liveNot caring if he’s saved,How rare it is.How rare it is.

Outro

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This free podcast is supported by listeners like you. Please like and share. It's the biggest thing you can do to help all neurodivergent voices beat the algorithm.

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