Sometimes you feel like a duck; sometimes you don’t.
– Me, attempting to make a point to staff the other day… almost, right?
This is one of those roll out of couch (because I sleep on the couch and not in my bed), don’t even put my glasses on, wake up the computer and write, posts.
Yesterday, I watched Wretches and Jabberers with staff. For anyone who doesn’t know, it’s a documentary about two men wih autism who do not speak much but type quite a bit. It’s about advocacy, it’s about making friends, and it’s about changing lives. I loved every minute.
But it’s left me thinking, if jabberers are people who speak and wretches are people who don’t speak but type, what am I?
Sometimes you feel like a duck, sometimes you don’t… right?
Today was such a good speech day. I didn’t have words until about 3PM, but then they came and they stayed until 9 or so. That’s six hours of words. That’s huge.
And they weren’t just “yes” and “nothankyou” and “Ihaveacat,” either. Oh, no. There was some real conversation with my sister and my mom. Okay, so a lot of it was pulled from things I’ve written, but the fact that I could call it up and express it at all is awesome.
Today was a jabberer day, for sure.
But alas, to wretchdom I have returned. And at heart, a wretch I’ll always be. Speech has never been and might never be my chosen means of communication. My speech feels metallic, airy, spindly, coming out of my mouth… my typing is solid, true, and dense.
I don’t type much about fear, which, if you think about it, is a funny thing, because I have so much of it. Speech makes me fearful. When you speak words, you can’t bring them back and rethink them… not least because I have little to no memory for speech after about eight or ten seconds. But when you type words, they are there for good, and you can always reread. You can’t turn off your ears to speech, pause it, rewind it, and slow it down, but you can with typing. Not to mention that written words stay with me.
This square peg girl might itches to type almost constantly. When circumstances are such that I am not permitted to type, I am left in silence for extended periods of time. You can imagine how this makes me feel… disrespected, invalidated, not to mention frustrated… to name a few.
Well, now that I will only get 8 hours of sleep (the meds I’m on mean I need more like 12) as we are going to sensory-friendly Harry Potter in the morning, I shall try this sleep thing again and pray that no more posts write themselves in my head.
Duck or not a duck, a wretch I’ll always be.