MELTEM ARIKAN

Türkçesi Aşağıda 👇 For those unfamiliar with the term, PDA stands for Public Display of Affection. To most, it is simply a romantic choice, a matter of personal style or a way to show the world they are happy. However, for a neurodivergent person, it is often far more than a stylistic choice; it is a complex matter of sensory regulation. There is a rather tiresome stereotype that autistic people simply "dislike being touched." This is a lazy assumption that misses the nuance of our experience. In reality, our nervous systems often process the external world like a blender, mixing every sound, light, and texture into an overwhelming slurry. Because of this, my "touch dial" is never static. At times, a simple touch acts as an anchor, tethering me to the world when everything else feels too fast. At other times, however, it can be the "final tab" that causes the entire system to crash. When I find myself in a crowded, noisy, or unpredictable environment, hol...

Türkçesi Aşagıda 👇 Sometimes starting something feels easy. If I’m interested, if it doesn’t stress me out, if I even enjoy it… sure. But other times, starting anything feels genuinely impossible. So I start putting it off. In a bit. Tomorrow. Later… As those laters never arrive, the stress builds. It rolls into a big tangled knot. And then comes the next layer: trying to get out from under it. Focusing on something I don’t want to do is ridiculously hard. Like when I need to write invoices, but end up alphabetising the bookshelf. Then I spot a book I’ve been putting off for years and somehow start reading it. Standard behaviour. My brain works differently. It’s part of being neurodivergent. Things like starting, switching, focusing, they all run on a separate system. Not always, but it really kicks in when I’m bored or the task feels pointless. It’s that my brain genuinely doesn’t care why it’s supposed to. Since I started understanding how my AuDHD brain works, it’s been easier to s...

  Türkçesi Aşagıda 👇 Not all healing speaks in words.  Some of it flows in curves. Some settle in colour. Some rest in the quiet between lines. For me, Neurographica® isn’t just drawing. It’s a conversation with something beyond language.A way the soul speaks in shape. A way the hand translates emotion into form. The mind shifts as the ink moves across the page. I’ve drawn every day for over a year now. Each page has become a companion. Sometimes grounding. Sometimes, like meditation. Sometimes unexpectedly magical. But always transformational. There are moments when I see myself clearly again.  When something deep inside moves. Not slowly, but all at once.  It can feel unreal, but it happens right there. Pen on paper. Breathe steady. Line by line. Not all maps are made of roads. Some are spirals. Sharp turns. Tangled threads that begin to loosen as you trace them. Neurographica is that kind of map. A way back to yourself. You draw what hurts. You soften what feels ...

  Türkçesi Aşagıda👇 I’ve always felt different. Too much. Too intense. Too easily overwhelmed. Knows too much but believes too easily. My existence has always been a chain of contradictions. I was born into chaos and silence in Turkey. At five, a car crash shattered my family. My mother never came home. Grief arrived early, and never really left.  It learned to live in me, quietly. I wrote to make the world bearable and to wrap words around the ache, to bring order to the noise. But I still didn’t belong. They called me sharp-tongued, dangerous, unruly. One of my books was banned. I was judged, criticised, and reduced. So I masked. I doubted myself. I learned to disappear while appearing strong. No matter how much I created, something kept pressing in, like I was made of static in a world that only accepts silence and smoothness. In 2013, my absurdist play Mi Minor,  a mirror held up to imagined power, became the target of a hate campaign. They said I inspired ...

I embraced death I understood the cycle I lived with cycles Death, a door Door, a transition Transition, an end End was a beginning  I accepted this I learned you can die Even when you are alive Blowing away in ruthlessness Burning in lies Freezing in merciless spite I learn what is accepting Like nature Just how it was Death like life A part of us Our divine And you can die Even when you are alive…. I never thought I would find out what love truly was during my calm and peaceful life in Elan Valley. I would wake up with the bright light of the sun, the birds telling their songs. After morning tea, go for a walk, sometimes along the river, sometimes on top of the hills, sometimes to the forest, sometimes on the road to the internet point… I bring food for the birds and squirrels who accompany me during my walk. One of my pathways was covered with dead blackberries and nettles. The nettles which burn everyone only itch my skin a tiny bit. The nettles heal my shingles. But the season...

So many people  Living in the city Many sulky faces Many in a hurry So many people Living in the city Sick, in pain Unhappy and sad Living in the city So far from me Scaring me Making me want to run away So many people living in the city When I lived in the city I was green and didn’t understand how quickly broken love could turn into hatred and spite. Carrying love is easy when the love is reciprocal, but to be truly strong and carry the power of love, it is helpful to understand the pain of rejected love. This was my experience as if for some, their love is overwhelmed by pride, arrogance, and ego sacrificed for the need to preserve their most fearful self. It was before the second lockdown and I had a couple of guests staying. First Filiz and her art psychotherapist friend Patrick came walking with me. It was a very nice day. The weather was not cold, the wind was not there. We start walking from the longhouse and followed the river Claerwen until the path finished. Walking near...

Lies, hate and ruthlessness It is conveyed mercilessly  Their poison spreads insidiously Sometimes I feel ashamed Of humanity of people Although they are not aware….