Sweet Sixteen

Hi, it’s me again.

Sixteen now.

One year older.

Still me in here.

This one is bittersweet.

Sweet sixteen is what this milestone birthday is referred to.

The neurotypical world gives most a driver’s license when they turn sixteen.

It cuts to my core that this will not happen for me today.

Make a wish.

Blow out the candles.

My eyes shut tight.

Here I go once more.

Hope in my heart.

Wishes in my mind remain silent.

In my head, I am shouting from the rooftops.

My voice - I can hear it.

So clear - like crystal waters rippling over stones - my dreams come true.

Will this be the year my wishes come true, too?

My brain-body disconnect is like going on a boat ride.

Sidenote: Love my Hilton Head rides with Captain Dave.

When the waves are smooth, it is magnificent.

Wind in my hair.

Sun on my face.

The ocean is endless.

God, I see you.

When my mind and body connect - it doesn’t happen often - but when it does, I can see.

I can think.

I can hear.

I am truly alive.

When my unruly body tries to take over as captain of my ship, my mind grabs the steering wheel.

Conditions worsen.

Like the most violent storms rolling in - I lose control.

Noise overwhelms me.

Waves crashing.

I wish for more brain-body connections and more calm boat rides would be icing on my Great American Cookie Cake.

I so wish I could open my mouth and speak reliably. The world continues to equate speaking with intelligence. Nonspeaking does not mean nonthinking. I’ll type it again for those in the back of the room. Nonspeaking does not mean nonthinking. One can be Autistic and speak. I am Autistic and have limited speech. Those working tirelessly to open doors for those who are silent, you are my wish come true. My letter board, my keyboard are lights in the darkness. So thankful for spelling to communicate. I wish more will find their light, find their voice, too.

I was also born with Apraxia. Apraxia is such an enigma. It is neurological. It is motor. My mouth opens and Apraxia snatches up my words like a thief in the night. The ultimate thief of joy. As most of you are familiar with, driving requires a great deal of motor control. Having Apraxia keeps me from driving today, but not from driving forever. With God, all things are possible.

I am here. I am living life with hopes, with dreams, with much determination to use the gifts I have for good.

I wish more eyes would be open to see, more minds be open to learn and more hearts be open to relate, to connect and to love someone who is unlike themselves.

I wish for healthy relationships.

I wish for happiness…more for others than myself.

I open my eyes.

The candle is dim but there is still light.

My wishes may not come true today or tomorrow.

This will not keep me from trying.

I will keep wishing.

Keep dreaming.

Keep moving forward.

Make a wish, my friends.

Blow out the candles.