Today's post is a bit of a nerdy one, so strap in.
I've been a LoTR1 fan since I was a kid (this is probably obvious if you've read my bio). I have always loved stories filled with fantasy, magical realism, and hopeful endings.
Recently, I did a very deliberate re-watch of all the films because I'm in the early stages of creating a LoTR themed knitting pattern. *Cue my gleeful-bordering-on-unhinged smile and dance* So, yeah, like I said: I'm a fan.
As most of you likely know, I've been participating in a Poem-A-Day challenge hosted by Jillian of
, and the prompt for Day 10 was “Friend.”Friends. When I tell you this one threw me - I briefly entertained the idea of skipping the day altogether. My initial ideas, sparse as they were, felt childish and cliché. But my persistence led me to a really delightfully niche little poem that I am excited to share more about:
Those seeking entrance to my heart
may seek me out beneath the stars.
Deep in dark, by cliffs protected,
the shining doorway is reflected.
A place of refuge left shut, lonely,
by barrier of language, only.
A fortress I do not pretend;
you may enter if you just
speak friend.
If you're unfamiliar with LoTR (or a bit rusty on the details) the doorway pictured up top, which I've heavily referenced in my poem, is the gateway to the Mines of Moria. Officially named the Doors of Durin, the gate was created in friendship between the elves and dwarves for safer, easier passage between their neighbouring lands.
The passage is described as being within cliffs, and the doorway itself is visible only by moon or starlight. The inscription, written in elvish, is a simple riddle - “speak, friend, and enter.2”
In an incredible turn of events, it also happens that the Doors of Durin are known by another name: the West-gate.3 This realization brought me the most delight. Just all of the delight.
Aside from the surface level comparison in my poem (delightful though it is), the real meaning for me is how it speaks to my experience with friendship as a late-realized neurodivergent.
My struggle with making friends as an undiagnosed AuDHD4 child was mostly chalked up to shyness, disinterest, or the strictness of my upbringing. I generally only had one or two closer friends at a time (if any) and was rarely purposefully included in any plans outside of school by my peers.
Of the friend groups I was a part of, I always felt that I was on the fringe, never an essential member, and I had only one really close best friend who stuck with me through middle and high school and actually bothered to keep in touch after.
As an adult, finding friendship with people who "speak my language" has been significantly easier.
Even before my official diagnoses, and before realizing my queerness - both of which have connected me to others in those communities - I had inadvertently begun unmasking5 by being more open about my interests and struggles, and by seeking relationships with people who didn't make me tired6.
This leaning into authenticity was scary, and it didn't do very much to connect me to the disinterested peers of my youth, but it did help me start to find people who were like me - people who saw my brand of “weird” and said, “me too.”
Now I know that I was never closed off, despite how it may have looked to those around me. I was just waiting for the people who could see my light, and speak my language.
This realization has been life-altering, forever changing the way I approach relationships, and the way I view myself.
I can see now that there wasn't anything wrong with me, just like there wasn't anything wrong with my peers; there was just a language barrier. And I also understand that it shouldn't be solely my responsibility to translate if someone doesn't want to make the effort.
I think as a society we have a long way to go with bridging that gap, but I have come to deeply appreciate the connections that have come about organically with the people who just get me, and nurturing them has brought so much joy to my life.
I'm a long way from the lonely kid I used to be, and having this knowledge of myself and this lens through which to view my life and relationships has been so empowering. I feel like I've just scratched the surface.
Even this newsletter and its readers (that's you!) are an extension of my learning to navigate friendship and community differently, and reaching out in new ways to make meaningful connections.
I'm so grateful to have you here. Thank you for joining me!
Lord of the Rings. If this footnote was necessary, I'm not sure how much you'll enjoy this post, but you're welcome regardless.
Yes, it's longer than just that line, but if you're aware of that and came to correct me, please don't complain about it - I'm trying to be concise for the people in the back.
My last name is Westgate.
Autistic and ADHD (not an official medical term); for those unaware, ADHD and autism are commonly co-occuring. If you have one, you're significantly more likely to have the other as well.
Masking is a term for camouflage certain neurodivergent (especially autistic) traits - often done subconsciously.
Neurotypical people tend to communicate differently and subconsciously expect different things than neurodivergent people; it's literally like we speak different languages, which means a higher amount of masking and a much higher amount of energy spent socializing.