I lie on the bed. I am not free to go. I am bound to the bed and on my head is a helm like the keeper of the ice skaters wear. Without helm I do not feel safe as I have the drive to bump with my head to the wall.
No one understands why I do so and everybody is afraid that my brain will get damaged of that but in fact, it is the other way around. The damage that my brain got is neutralised by bumping my head to the wall. I noticed that once very clearly after I had been bumping my head twice to the concrete wall very hard after I was told that I could not get the service here that I had expected but had to go to another place.
I felt so horrible aggressive that no one helped me that I had to do something and killing the person that could not help me was not exactly something that would make me happy so instead I bumped my head to the wall twice and this aggressive feeling that would like to kill, left me and I felt very relieved. Actually I felt very physical that the backside of my head was much more relaxed than before.
During the act I also was aware about the fact that my head would get a physical damage when I would hit it one time more against the wall. The peace that came into me after this violent act was great and never left me any more. Each time when I bent my head backwards it seems to remember the hitting against the wall and peace comes into my mind, I straighten my back and I feel like someone that can decide what happens in his life.
They say I am an autistic person and it is unknown how come. I have been speaking but I lost this way of expression again. I have eyes that speak volumes and lots of people seem to be afraid of these volumes.
They seem not to be aware about the love that tries to make them change their attitude and in stead of being afraid become the grown up that is connected to the curious inner child that loves adventure. I love adventure but I lie on the bed and are kept immobile by medication as my parents are no longer capable to move. They stopped moving after they found out that they could not follow my movements that were so fast because I tried to move not only for me, but for them also.
I tried to keep movement in the family and that made that they became more and more immobile. They were afraid to go out with me and have to experience that I was just looking at other people or grabbing for their hand or hair to make them wake up. Lots of people seem no longer capable to be in touch or to be touched by others.
Only the mental being in touch seems to be accepted by the modern (computer) world.
In the internet one can read that an autistic person is not so flexible that he can cope with changes right away and that he does not like to be touched, but as autistic person I can not agree with these statements. I am longing for a mate that goes with me into the woods and makes us work there, but people think that I could never do a thing like that.
They had to learn it for better and for worse and I can cut trees and make wood for the stove out of it because I observed my father do it. In the Film "Eine ruhige Jacke" (CH 2010) you can see how a mate of me shows that. We are all connected and we see what is and what has been or what will be. Walking away may be a sign that someone else is walking away like I ran around in the room to show the therapist that he would run away.
It took him years to understand that my running around the room during the last treatment he gave me was the sign that he would be running away. I knew that would be his reaction on the decision of my parents to send him away. They did no longer want him to come as he was not sharing the idea that I am stupid.
The other therapists of the team were convinced that I am stupid. They tried to find out if I was able to show that I know what was a pencil, a cup and a knife. At the beginning of the hour these three items were lying on the table and the therapist asked me, as I am no big speaker, to point to the knife and so I did. I pointed to the knife.
Than I was asked to show that I knew what was the cup and so I did and pointed to the cup. For the new therapist that was observing this exercise, not knowing what was going on, it was clear that I knew what was what but the therapist that was doing the exercise was not yet convinced.
He asked me to show that I knew what was the pencil and I took up the pencil and gave it to him. This was still not enough for this therapist. The new one, that had to learn what had to be done with me, asked if that was not enough. It was clear to him that I knew what word belonged to what item, but the other therapist that was specially educated, was not convinced. One hour he changed in between the place where the items were lying and again and again I had to show that I knew what was what.
The new therapist was not able to see any goal in the exercise and felt bored all the time. When I concentrated on him, I felt bored too, but when I concentrated on the therapist that wanted me to show that I knew what was what, I was as concentrated as he.
My parents were not able to see my intelligence as the new therapist did, but kept to the treatment that they had given me before, not knowing what to do with my behaviour as that was different from others. I am not someone that just follows, but I want to heal the wounds that people have or will get if they do not change their behaviour.
The first time the new therapist came to me, I saw that he saw in a different way than is seen as normal and I also saw that he would get eye problems that could be solved by treating his cheek and I also saw that this therapist was open to be treated healing by me.
That was not possible without climbing on his shoulders, something that my mother was very astonished about, as usually I do not allow physical contact with unknown people. I waited what the new therapist would do and he showed to be happy that I took this chance and showed that I was not afraid of him.
I grabbed his cheek and turned it and the therapist cried as that was hurting, but he was also liking it. My mother that was sitting aside, did not like it and was afraid that the therapist would think that she was not nice and excused for my behaviour. The therapist said that it was okay, but the pain became more and with it, the feeling of guilt, as the feeling of guilt of my mother grew and the therapist felt that.
That was the reason that he asked her to help to get the cheek out of my hands and only years later he remembered this as he noticed he was having eye problems and grabbing his cheek the same way I had been doing. This therapist was like me but not as much. He also was an autistic person with a huge ability of feeling what other people need to be healed, but he could speak.
Not always, but normally. When he was emotional he could not speak a word and he became very emotional as my mother sent him away so he could not speak any longer, but ran away.
