I reserve my right to feel uncomfortable

Louis Theroux tweeted a link to this story over the past weekend. It’s an adaption of a book written by the Father of an autistic person that covers the diagnosis and life afterwards. It is a happy story. Owen, the autistic person, is clearly content and is obviously very loved. I like the way the story captures some of the journey that the family experienced, but bits of the language used troubled me.

“Thank God, he’s in there.”

“Owen reached out, if only for a moment, from his shut-in world.”

I could not shift a single thought from my mind, “Why is your way, the right way?”, which is probably more accurately expressed as “Why are the things we do considered bad just because they are different?”

Having to hide my stims makes my day harder. Having to mimic your behaviour makes me tired. #StopCombatingMe. Just let me be.

I reserve my right to feel uncomfortable, reserve my right to be afraid.
I make mistakes and I am humbled every step of the way.
I want to be a better person. I wanna know the master plan.
Cast your stones, cast your judgement, you don’t make me who I am.

Sometimes You’re The Hammer, Sometimes You’re The Nail; Common Courtesy; A Day To Remember

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