Autism Answer: Linger Longer

 

 

My mom (long hair) and her friend Conni (short hair) laying on a towel in the grass when they were twelve years old

When I was a little girl I used to look deep and long at photos of my mom when she was a little girl. I would focus, unfocus, refocus my eyes, will myself to fall into it; into my mom before she was a woman.

The woman I looked up at with all the love in the world had been a little girl; was still a little girl in those photos. A little girl, like me. 

But not me. 

How? How was my mom once a girl? What did that mean? 

I wanted wanted wanted to know her thoughts, her experiences, her dreams. I tried to imagine them, but it was tainted, wrong, it was me imagining. I wanted to KNOW. I'd ask her, and lucky for me my mom was the sort of woman who would answer these probing questions from her daughter. And I was confident she was answering honestly. But they were the answers of a woman, shared with a girl who was not her, and I knew that fell far short from knowing. 

I'd try again. Bringing mom's imperfect answers with me I'd fall into the eyes of the girl in the photo, try to disappear most of the girl that was me - hold onto only enough of me to remember what it was I was seeking from the image of my mom as she was, which was a moment of my mom as she became... 

This is what it can be to look at and imagine. To take our time, think, wonder. Linger. Linger longer. I was not the only one doing it, I'm sure.

Lately, though, I notice so many people looking merely for seemingly superficial purposes. Quick successive jolts of image inducing reactions, it seems like? Perhaps for the jolt of chemicals our brains release when seeing something beautiful, shocking, sexy, rage inducing. 

I see people look quickly, move on; seek more. 

There is less moving within, moving along, allowing more, thinking and wondering and exploring the images; going where they take us, thinking about things along the way. People still linger, but it seems they stay only until the initial jolt of emotion has waned and then they move on for more of that, more closely related to the jolt. Reading and leaving comments is too often a way to stay jolted, it is not often enough a type of deeper exploration. 

It is entirely human to engage in emotion through our senses. I think this is what I was doing as a little girl desiring to know my mom as she was; to feel myself be known by her as well. Yes, I think I was doing that too. Wanting the little girl that was my mom to know the little girl that was me. 

But I worry that without the longer linger, without the deeper explorations and thoughts, the adjusting of ourselves along the way, the noticing of our thoughts and the recognition of our limitations, we are merely addicts. Brain-chemical junkies. 

Not all of us have vision, or are able to use sight in this way, but those of us who are able might want to consider lingering longer. Listening to what we are thinking, and exploring why we are thinking it. Teasing out the motivations - our own, the image sharers - and allowing the chemicals to run their course before we seek the next hit. 

We are relentlessly exposed to images intended to make us want, hunger, hate. 

Images intended to make us smile, laugh, feel peace. 

These images on their own can also encourage us to think. But if we do not linger long enough, they simply encourage an addiction to more images giving us a feeling. 

A feeling that is our own, yet we are too easily allowing outside images to do the job of jump-starting our emotions. Of corralling them.

I like the idea of lingering longer.

Of exploring what my inside is telling me - not only from the first jolt but on into the day. To allow thinking and exploring to be organically my own, not overly influenced, though admittedly influenced.

I like influence, I like sharing, I like learning from outside of me. 

I like seeing my mom as a girl, looking into her eyes and asking what she sees and how she hopes to be seen. 

We are what we consume and those of us with sight are obligated to consume images. 

When we linger longer we can find time to include the nutrition our capacity to think, care, and understand truly requires. To exercise those muscles; that skill.

Happy New Year friends!

I hope you'll linger longer with me!

(Even though I used the word exercise. tee hee!) 

Hugs, smiles, and love!! 

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (X.com)

Family portrait: my aunt Delmarie, my grandma, my grandpa, my mom (left to right)

Autism Answer: Allow, but also Push - aka Old Lady Wisdom

 

Me trying to show my age but also using the vignette feature to try and make the photo look cool and not just like I'm trying to show my age :D

 

Ever since I was a little girl I've enjoyed the feeling of picturing myself as an older woman. 

 

More specifically, I'd imagine myself as a wise older woman with a smile, an approachable kindness, and a life alone in the woods. I would push myself in that direction. No rush, of course. I like enjoying all the states I'm in while I'm in them. But I would imagine my older self with a happy anticipation. 

 

Interestingly, I never imagined myself feeling older. 

 

Now, as I'm enjoying my 50th year, I am noticing that the feeling older is something worth paying attention to. No, I do not want it as badly as I want to look older, but I also do not want to hate it. I want to allow my age while I push in the direction of feeling great in my mind and body. 

 

I want the privilege of being older and I want to embrace it holistically. 

 

Which means celebrating the appearance, cultivating the wisdom (which my little girl self, with her lack of wisdom, had assumed simply happened when you got old), and focusing on the way I feel. 

My focus on how I'm feeling is to better understand others and to have more of those spectacular, "Oh, now I get it!" moments I continually crave. I freaking love stepping into a new understanding.  

Also, though, it is related to my desire to be an active participant in my own evolution. I want to feel myself age while I explore what that means for me, and while I challenge what it could mean for me. I want to be strong in my refusal of certain elements while being brave in my acceptance of others. I want to decide where to be strong and where to be brave as the evolution continues. I want to do this in real time, not predetermined. Not unthinking. Unaware. Unkind.

It is a valuable skill, knowing how to both accept and push against. My mom exampled this fantastically with my autistic siblings: they were to be accepted and allowed to be themselves while also pushed in healthy directions, growth, and skill acquisition. 

 

Each of my mom's children (there were eight of us) were unique. Which meant there had to be flexibility and understanding of where one could be pushed while another ought to be accepted. We grew up in a home that knew we were all equal but not the same. We knew not to judge each other for which skills we chose to work on, which feelings we insisted on finding, which challenges we chose to accept and rise to meet.

 

So, yes! I will allow age to enter me everywhere. The little girl in me claps with appreciation over how far we've already come and bounces with excited anticipation over what awaits. (Although she might be a little disappointed at how long it's taking the wisdom fairy to give us our old lady wisdom magic. tee hee!)

 

As I allow I will also insist. I will insist on pushing toward my own version of how age feels in my body.

 

Push, but also allow. Allow, but also push.

 

Because I am old I am wise enough to know this is worth doing.

 

 

Hugs, smiles, and love!!!

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)