I need to write. I need to type, tell, to be a witness. Not because of what I have to say is new, on the contrary I know so many other people who share my experiences. I need to tell this story, because until change happens, it needs to be told over and over.
I can speak with my mouth, sometimes. My verbal abilities however, are unreliable and it seems like my pattern of communication – the logic that decides when I can speak with my mouth and when I can’t – is something totally different from what this world can understand. I don’t understand it myself. I don’t know why I can talk through my mouth a lot more with my partner than with other people. I don’t understand why verbal conversations with healthcare professionals have become almost impossible.
I don’t understand. I doubt that a speech pathologist or therapist will ever be able to help me, because the ones I come in contact with seem to deal with very different people. What they write about the people they are claiming to help has very little to do with me. So no, no hopes there.
This world seems to hate people like me. You hate it when I ask for written communication. You hate it when I ask for some kind of written communication that doesn’t require us to respond immediatly. You want to solve that by speaking in a slowly manner, and then I have to ask you to speak faster because I can’t keep my focus when you slow down. I need information to come to me fast but then I need to be left alone to process before I can reply. This is apparently so weird and bad that it makes you treat me like a piece of shit.
I still don’t understand my speaking difficulties.
I wish I did.
I wish you did.