tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5426050656197929065.post3298566130356670602..comments2024-03-19T18:36:41.875-04:00Comments on Yes, That Too: There is a DifferenceAlyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06413844178426365789noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5426050656197929065.post-64113999089928720642013-01-24T10:27:57.734-05:002013-01-24T10:27:57.734-05:00I missed the original comment and I'm glad.
I...I missed the original comment and I'm glad.<br /><br />I came to read this post aftre skyping with my boyfriend. At one point, I found a new way to move my hands on my face that felt really good and I got focused in on it for a moment.<br /><br />"What does that mean?" my boyfriend, used to me signing the same words in ASL as I talk to him, asked.<br /><br />"It doesn't mean anything. It just feels good. Here try it," I suggested.<br /><br />He tried. <br /><br />"No, like this. Your index finger goes here . . . " he imitates. "Now use it like a hinge as you move the rest of your hand like this." Open. Close. Open. Close. <br /><br />He hinges his hand on his face. <br /><br />"Doesn't that feel great? Couldn't you just do that for an hour?" I ask.<br /><br />"Maybe . . . I don't know . . . " he is unsure. But still hinging his hand on his face. Open. Close. Open. Close.<br /><br />"Congratulations," I tell him. "You're autistic now."<br /><br />We both laugh, but it is more than a joke. It is a level of acceptance. He doesn't think his girlfriend is weird. He doesn't think she looks funny. He is curious, and even willing to join her in a stim from time to time. <br /><br />He doesn't want to change me. In the early days, he was nervous about my looking autistic. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. I asked him, "would you be embarassed if you were with me in public and I looked autistic?"<br /><br />"Embarassed? No." He thought a moment. I trust him to always answer honestly. He knows I would rather hear a truth that makes me cry than a lie that makes me smile. "I would not be embarassed, but I would be concerned. I would feel . . . protective."<br /><br />He once had a dream that someone was hurting me and he had to stop them. "How can you do that to her?" he cried. "Don't you know she autistic?!?!" <br /><br />He would never tell me to have quiet hands. He knows the difference between erasing the signs and mitigating the anxiety. He knows which one looks "normal" and he knows which one he prefers for me. He knows he doesn't care how I look (to him, I always look beautiful. How could I not love him when he says that?) He knows he cares how I feel and he knows he would do anything to lessen my anxiety.<br /><br />And so we sit there on skype for a moment before he goes to have breakfast. Index finger hinged near the mouth. Open. Close. Open. Close. Both of us looking autistic as hell. Both of us connecting to each other on a level deeper than words. Nothing here needs therapy. Nothing here needs healing. Nothing is wrong with looking autistic as hell. <br /><br />Thank you for your post, Alyssa. They are things that need to be said, again and again, need to be heard, need to be understood. Brick by brick, you are building a better world.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5426050656197929065.post-43533251035817373412013-01-24T09:42:44.398-05:002013-01-24T09:42:44.398-05:00You handled this subject very thoughtfully. I am ...You handled this subject very thoughtfully. I am still stunned at the original comment implying that only behaviors seen on the outside are important - a lack of concern that we are talking about humans.Brenda Rothman (Mama Be Good)https://www.blogger.com/profile/17399227210081662280noreply@blogger.com