Take away the notepad and paper, take away the laptop, or whatever you are about to write on. I am more concerned with what you are writing and thinking than my own self.
I am uncomfortable looking at you. I don’t like your office, for one reason or another. Maybe you are messy or maybe too clean. It might smell in an offensive way or be too dark and cluttered. Then again the sunlight might be seeping through and displaying the dancing dust and pulling me in thought to germs and uncleanliness. If you cleaned, I am hoping you didn’t use toxins, and I am wondering how many people have sat in this chair before, and how they sit, how they position their body, but mostly how they position their mind.
I am wondering with each word I speak what you think and if I have answered to meet your expectations and intentions. I can guess half of what you will say and how you will say it, because I have studied you from the moment we met, and I have studied those like you before. I know more about the human language and the nuances and gestures and games than you can imagine. I can feel your energy, and I can feel how your opinion of me switches. I can feel you weighing in on me and my words balanced against your thoughts.
I am uncomfortable in all ways and trying to present myself as comfortable. And this you probably know, as I already know, and you are watching me closer, as if in watching I will grow in security and trust. But I won’t. I will feel for you what I feel for everyone. I will either like you instantly or you will make me want to run. And with the liking I will analyze why and if this is valid, this feeling of companionship and connection. I will linger here a short time, especially in comparison to if I want to run. If I want to run my thoughts will circle around you for a favorable amount of time, working inside and outside of your being and attempting to decipher the danger. If I distrust you, I will likely always distrust you. This may be nothing you have ever said or done; this is my natural instinct.
I have been preyed upon by predators and sought out by experts. I have been probed and prodded and measured one too many times. I do not like the way you measure me. Not one bit, and I want this time to end.
I want to like you, and if I don’t, I fear my own rejection; I fear the dialogue that will reach into the contours of my mind and debate the whys and hows of my own inclinations.
I will listen to you as best I can, but don’t count on me hearing all of what you say. One word will set me adrift into another place, one unusual sound or one ordinary sound from you or from the room that is silent. I will hear what you do not hear. I will hear the quietness through the silence. I will hear the pauses in your monologue, and I will question your expertise.
I will wonder if you like me and then wonder why I even care, and why it is important that you do like me, even if I despise you and everything about your space. I will still want to be your friend, and a part of me will still love you, like some pup you picked up from the alley while in a mode of rescue. I will seek harbor and refuge in this space you have provided, knowing I am paying, or someone is paying for this form of companionship that frightens me.
I will question your degrees, your education, your protocols, your knowledge, your booksmarts, and your conclusions without hint of regard. I will dive down corridors of your soul and wander about hunting out the darkness. And all this I will do as you sit there scratching away notes about me.
For I will have compiled a list a volume thick in the time you have taken for me to answer a few questions. And simultaneously, I will have composed my own representation of self to you, pulling out what is expected, and what might make you comfortable, playing the game so you can see me and not be swooped away by the real me that is locked away behind this tattered worn curtain of self.
You can’t reach in, as hard as you try, unless I know you recognize me. I won’t let you past, unless I know you are real, that you have felt the deepest pains and angst, that you, too, have been in the shadowed darkness weeping for reprieve, that you have been abandoned, ostracized, left for nothing, created into something others wanted you to be. I will not let you near, unless I know your heart has grown in the depths of the oceans and shoots out to save those who wither.
Your documented degrees mean nothing to me. Your schooling is lost. What you knew and what you think you know is not this me staring back at you. I am in no textbook and in no past discoveries. My experience is uniquely mine, and unless you have dived into the caverns of my mind, unless you can see the world of illusion, as I can, then I have no purpose or need for you.
Entirely, I sit. Entirely, I am. And I understand beyond measure what grips you and shakes you and what makes you spin. I can tell in your eyes when you are complimented you are lit, and when you are unsure you folly. I see you, like a master watching a child; I see your discomfort, your waverng, your questions. But mostly I see straight to the purity of your soul, straight into the core.
So don’t waste my time with man invented games and manmade questionnaires that nibble away at my character and personhood. I am beyond this, these guesses and marks, this test to prove something that needs no proving.
I am not this Aspergers. I am not this Autism. I am human in need of being seen.
I am not a test subject, nor am I confused. I am not sick. I am not ill in the slightest sense. I am a unique and special individual born out of the ashes into the phoenix. I am both God and Goddess and have so much to teach you.
So do not look past the secrets in my eyes to check off the boxes of your own design. Seek first in me the wisdom I carry, the answers, the knowledge. See what I have to say. Hear what my world is like, for unless you have lived inside of this me, then you are the one that remains alien.
Don’t pretend you understand my condition or my brain or my way of life. Don’t pretend you can help me. I already know your tactics and trickery. As innocent and as kind you be, to me everything you present I shall take apart and examine from source.
Present to me your own self, the deepest part of you, the part the rest of the world hides so readily in a game. Take off your mask and meet me in the playing field I recognize: one of pureness, naiveté, child-like heart and genuineness. Do not strip me of the very armor that sews my seams. Uplift my attributes and charm, the gentle grace that illuminates from the spirit I am.
Do not think that because you have a title or name that you are therefore anymore or any less than the others. You are still garbed in your fashions and mystery. Undress, strip down, bear your nakedness and show me your frailty. That is the only reason I am here. Not to teach you how to help me. Not to teach you how to change me. But to show you what truth and beauty is.
My way is not wrong. Nor is my mind hindered. My way is the one of the child of goodness and authenticity, and until you understand that what I carry is no less damaged than the stars in the sky and no less worthy than your very own heart, than you cannot reach me.
If you want to help me, if you want to truly help me, then become my student, so I can become yours. Meet me as one. And see that I am not your patient, your client, or your case study. I am me.
In all my uniqueness I am me. And in this, in being me, in being all of me, perhaps in your wanting to help me, it is truly I that will set you free.
20 thoughts on “355: To the Professional”
Wow!!!! Yes!!!! I totally feel this way about the medical community at large. Thanks for expressing this! Apt and brilliant!
I hadn’t thought about the medical community when writing it, but I see now it fits many arenas 🙂 Thank you for that insight.
This is exactly the way I feel about the whole diagnostic process. Once again you have so completely expressed an experience that is both uniquely yours and at the same time representative of my own. There is a saying that goes: “No-one cares how much you know, until they know how much you care.” Professionals seem to genuinely lack the ability to care about anything other than how much they think they know. I’d much rather be shown how much they genuinely care as opposed to how much they think they know. Especially given that their knowledge has had a well documented tendency to mock and devalue the experiences of women both on the spectrum and off it.
Wonderful comment; thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts.
This so perfectly articulates how I feel at the pain doctor, the dentist, even in friendships and relationships. It’s an odd balancing act of trying to be included and analytical, something I have never been able to stop myself from doing.
thank you. Yes, that is a great point about in relationships as well. 🙂
Reblogged this on seventhvoice and commented:
I highly recommend reading this blog post for anyone who’s been through the diagnostic process for Autism/ Asperger’s or has a child who has been or is going through the diagnostic process. I’d love to know if these words ring true for you.
thank you for spreading the word. 🙂 Much appreciated.
Thats amazing. Thanks again Sam for getting it on paper…..its incredible to me how you actually get that onto paper. I sat stunned for a few minutes, thoughtless and speechless…which is not me at all. Another one to print out and put into my scrapbook (hope thats not weird).haha xx
Thank you for your ongoing words of love and encouragement. ❤
There are no students or teachers. Only when all the labels fall does love shine in full splendour. And I know what you’re saying here – I’m able to read volumes just on meeting someone. It was really uncomfortable to start with, and I wondered why so few were able to do this, but I see it now as the route to great compassion. What we think to be the most personal is actually the most universal.
Spoken by the wise Harry. Are you just sitting back and waiting for me to figure this all out, when you could just tell me!!! 🙂 Sam
I’m thinking as I read this..like theres a zone or a barrior around your being as you write, it blocks out time perhaps and you become the stream of thought for the amount of time needed to get the concept down in print. It is an intense experience for the reader as well Sam.
When I first read your comment, when you first wrote it, I just smiled so big…and wanted to call you on the phone and say: YES. Hugs.
Oh, Samantha. That was outstanding. You have just written what should be on the first page of every syllabus of every course for “helping professionals”. And you published it on the day I really needed to hear it. “Thank you” is never sufficient for sharing your insight.
What a wonderful comment; thank you for the beauty of that statement. Very much appreciated.
Reblogged this on siouxsun.
thank you 😉
Reblogged this on Under Your Radar and commented:
This is exactly it! I’m considering printing copies and just carrying them around with me to hand out. This says it so eloquently. Well done!
thank you much. The book version has been edited better though 🙂 I appreciate your support!!!