I cried the other day.
More accurately, I bawled a bit, crying out loud.
I cried for my Dad. I cried for me & found myself wanting my Dad.
So I wrote this the same day & have been silently sitting with it since, assessing how comfortable I feel with it. Becoming acquainted with it. And, today, I figured I’m OK with it ~ so I’m serving it up for you now.
It’s been quite some time since I’ve so specifically felt like I “needed” my Dad. I’ve written about him, talked about him, missed him, remembered him, smiled about him, cried about him & cried for him.
But I can’t remember when I last cried out “I want my Dad”.
After all, I’m a grown up of several decades, not a child. But, last week, I met that child again, face on ... a child who just wanted to be cuddled, to be loved & gently told “you’re OK, you’re loved, I’m here, I’ve got you & everything’s going to be fine.”
It’s not like it was a stand out bad day.
All my angel fish made it into school & all completed their time in school successfully. I even enjoyed a second complimentary email (in as many days) about a stand out piece of work & participation by one of my angel fish so, actually, I’ve reason to think we must be getting some things right.
I’d ticked the odd thing off my never ending to do list & was chuffed to have received a couple of responses from an autism-friendly group to an appeal for help in resolving what I shall call a logistical problem.
But in the process of progressing another “to do” I became distracted by an email which left me feeling “wrong”. I’ve read a few accounts lately of autistics being made to feel “wrong”. And I don’t mean simply feeling momentarily incorrect about some specific thing ... I mean actually completely just “wrong” ... in totality ... put down, inferior, in need of censoring.
So it quickly became a day that provoked some serious self-reflection & triggered this sudden, intense need for my Dad.
I feel like I’m getting it wrong a lot.
I think I’ve always got it wrong a lot but maybe just not realised quite how often or to what extent. But when it arises from a group that’s meant to understand you, that advocates for your “tribe” ... then it’s tough to take.
After a few days to consider, reflect & ruminate, I can see it might not have been meant this way ... but I’m not completely convinced. Maybe I was still reeling from the night before ... a changed social situation that I couldn’t seem to settle into & which left me feeling quite chaotic & out of control on the inside & like a rabbit in the headlights on the outside ... I hear myself saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, contributing when I probably shouldn’t, then not when I probably should. Mumbling, fumbling, confusing, self-sabotaging ... unable to find my place in this new, unfamiliar setting. Made worse because the looks, odd responses, withdrawing had begun, confirming my “wrongness” and, you know, it’s nothing new. It’s happened a lot, pre & post my autism diagnosis. However much I may have “masked” or tried to “fit in” & behave & speak in expected ways ... I’m not, never have been & never will be un-autistic, or neurotypical, & I’ve always stood out to some degree or another whether it’s because I wear something unusual, say something unexpected, behave unexpectedly, react over-emotionally or under-emotionally.
And it’s that “no getting away from it” realisation that drew in the sadness that pervaded last week, despite the acknowledgements of success elsewhere which, in themselves, have not come easily & can be inconsistent.
And whilst I campaign to celebrate our differences, it makes me so sad to observe & experience others’ responses to the assumption of “wrongness” in me ... that realisation that I’m not as “normal” as I might first appear ... responded to with furrowed brows, backing off, distancing & avoiding or silencing, censoring & correcting. These reactions just tell me I’m not valuable, not valued, that I’m “wrong”.
But I’m not wrong, I’m different.
Different, not less (credit Temple Grandin).
I don’t always get it right ... but I’m not wrong.
But too often I feel like I am.
So I cried.
I bawled a bit. Crying out loud & wanting my Dad.
Then I looked at the sky ... it was the sort of sky in which I’d imagine angels appear, a sky like the sky that inspired me to write "Angels in our Midst".
A sky, combined with the intense feelings of need, that made me plead out loud “Please come back Dad.”
More accurately, I bawled a bit, crying out loud.
I cried for my Dad. I cried for me & found myself wanting my Dad.
So I wrote this the same day & have been silently sitting with it since, assessing how comfortable I feel with it. Becoming acquainted with it. And, today, I figured I’m OK with it ~ so I’m serving it up for you now.
It’s been quite some time since I’ve so specifically felt like I “needed” my Dad. I’ve written about him, talked about him, missed him, remembered him, smiled about him, cried about him & cried for him.
But I can’t remember when I last cried out “I want my Dad”.
After all, I’m a grown up of several decades, not a child. But, last week, I met that child again, face on ... a child who just wanted to be cuddled, to be loved & gently told “you’re OK, you’re loved, I’m here, I’ve got you & everything’s going to be fine.”
It’s not like it was a stand out bad day.
All my angel fish made it into school & all completed their time in school successfully. I even enjoyed a second complimentary email (in as many days) about a stand out piece of work & participation by one of my angel fish so, actually, I’ve reason to think we must be getting some things right.
I’d ticked the odd thing off my never ending to do list & was chuffed to have received a couple of responses from an autism-friendly group to an appeal for help in resolving what I shall call a logistical problem.
But in the process of progressing another “to do” I became distracted by an email which left me feeling “wrong”. I’ve read a few accounts lately of autistics being made to feel “wrong”. And I don’t mean simply feeling momentarily incorrect about some specific thing ... I mean actually completely just “wrong” ... in totality ... put down, inferior, in need of censoring.
So it quickly became a day that provoked some serious self-reflection & triggered this sudden, intense need for my Dad.
I feel like I’m getting it wrong a lot.
I think I’ve always got it wrong a lot but maybe just not realised quite how often or to what extent. But when it arises from a group that’s meant to understand you, that advocates for your “tribe” ... then it’s tough to take.
After a few days to consider, reflect & ruminate, I can see it might not have been meant this way ... but I’m not completely convinced. Maybe I was still reeling from the night before ... a changed social situation that I couldn’t seem to settle into & which left me feeling quite chaotic & out of control on the inside & like a rabbit in the headlights on the outside ... I hear myself saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, contributing when I probably shouldn’t, then not when I probably should. Mumbling, fumbling, confusing, self-sabotaging ... unable to find my place in this new, unfamiliar setting. Made worse because the looks, odd responses, withdrawing had begun, confirming my “wrongness” and, you know, it’s nothing new. It’s happened a lot, pre & post my autism diagnosis. However much I may have “masked” or tried to “fit in” & behave & speak in expected ways ... I’m not, never have been & never will be un-autistic, or neurotypical, & I’ve always stood out to some degree or another whether it’s because I wear something unusual, say something unexpected, behave unexpectedly, react over-emotionally or under-emotionally.
And it’s that “no getting away from it” realisation that drew in the sadness that pervaded last week, despite the acknowledgements of success elsewhere which, in themselves, have not come easily & can be inconsistent.
And whilst I campaign to celebrate our differences, it makes me so sad to observe & experience others’ responses to the assumption of “wrongness” in me ... that realisation that I’m not as “normal” as I might first appear ... responded to with furrowed brows, backing off, distancing & avoiding or silencing, censoring & correcting. These reactions just tell me I’m not valuable, not valued, that I’m “wrong”.
But I’m not wrong, I’m different.
Different, not less (credit Temple Grandin).
I don’t always get it right ... but I’m not wrong.
But too often I feel like I am.
So I cried.
I bawled a bit. Crying out loud & wanting my Dad.
Then I looked at the sky ... it was the sort of sky in which I’d imagine angels appear, a sky like the sky that inspired me to write "Angels in our Midst".
A sky, combined with the intense feelings of need, that made me plead out loud “Please come back Dad.”
 |
| One of those skies, almost | An Affinity With A |
And ... as if in immediate response ... on the radio came Wham!’s Wake Me Up Before You Go! Go!
Random to the many who don’t know me
but more prophetic, maybe, to the few who do.
By the way, this picture was taken later that same day.
Immediate positive vibe ... a smile ... completely cutting through that moment ... thanks Dad ... you were there all along.
So now the lyrics hold a whole new meaning for me.
It’s no longer the young adult me desperately seeking that permanent beau who would love me unconditionally. Instead, it’s a message from my Dad who loved me unconditionally (I’m pretty sure) & who didn’t really want to go but felt he had to & who maybe wished he’d seen me one more time before he left (who knows), who still wants to reassure me when I've had a Bad Day (another song reference). And it’s a message to my Dad from a daughter, reciprocating that unconditional love & desire to remain connected.
And who can resist smiling at the mention of Doris Day? ... but that’s another post ...
Still need convincing (or a smile)?
Here are some lyrics:
You put the boom boom into my heart (hoo, hoo)
You send my soul sky high when your lovin' startsJitterbug into my brain (yeah, yeah)
Goes a bang-bang-bang 'til my feet do the same
But something's bugging you (ha-ha, ha-ha)
Something ain't right (ha-ha, ha-ha)
My best friend told me what you did last night (ha-ha, ha-ha)
Left me sleepin' in my bed (ha-ha, ha-ha)
I was dreaming, but I should have been with you instead (ha-ha)
Wake me up before you go-go
Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up before you go-go
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high
Wake me up before you go-go
'Cause I'm not plannin' on going solo
Wake me up before you go-go
Take me dancing tonight
I wanna hit that high (yeah, yeah)
You take the grey skies out of my way (hoo, hoo)
You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day
Turned a bright spark into a flame (yeah, yeah)
My beats per minute never been the same
'Cause you're my lady, I'm your fool (ha-ha, ha-ha)
It makes me crazy when you act so cruel (ha-ha, ha-ha)
Come on, baby, let's not fight (ha-ha, ha-ha)
We'll go dancing, everything will be all right (ha-ha) ...
~0~
Yes, I’m happy to believe this was a message from my Dad ... a Dad who loved to dance, who sent me & my brother a toy telephone set so we could speak to each other when not together, who believed disability & difference was never a reason to dismiss others or treat them differently, who died when I was 10.
And I’m pretty sure my Dad is one of my guardian angels & has saved me on more than one occasion.
We need more angels.
We need more Dick & Angels (escaping to chateaus)
We need more Doris Days!
And, you know what, after another night at you (don’t) know where, maybe I’m not as wrong as I felt last week ... sometimes it just takes time to get to know people ... sometimes it just takes time for people to get to know me ... like it took time to make acquaintance with this post ... take time ... make time for more time.
Angels apply here ...
And I’m pretty sure my Dad is one of my guardian angels & has saved me on more than one occasion.
We need more angels.
We need more Dick & Angels (escaping to chateaus)
We need more Doris Days!
And, you know what, after another night at you (don’t) know where, maybe I’m not as wrong as I felt last week ... sometimes it just takes time to get to know people ... sometimes it just takes time for people to get to know me ... like it took time to make acquaintance with this post ... take time ... make time for more time.
Angels apply here ...
My gosh this is beautiful Sara, so beautiful x
ReplyDeleteHi there ... thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment Caroline. I'm so glad it read well & hope you are well x
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