I've found that I'm losing my words. Or, more accurately, I'm losing my ability to communicate with words, out loud, with other people. Oddly, it's not been with my Hebrew or Yiddish words, I use them rarely anyway, or my ASL signs. Neither have I lost my understandings, or lack thereof, of French, Italian, German, Latin, or Mandarin Chinese. No, it's not the "foreign" languages that bother, it's my "native" one, English, that I seem to struggle with.
To say that English is my first language is a partial truth. As someone with learning disabilities that include dyslexia, as well as Asperger's Syndrome, language itself is a construct. My native tongue is a cobbled together, linguistically questionable one called "Arin." It's an unofficially unrecognized dialect of English...probably.
Poetically, I see my language as a Monarch butterfly caught between a windy current and a milkweed leaf, like a moment where magic sometimes happens. Sometimes the ideas, sounds, and scribbles float aimlessly and uncontrollably, and are blown away in the gusts of air that propel them. A sudden aphasia of confusion descends and the meanings are caught in a cycle of knowing and unknowable. Other times, all the thoughts, letters, and words come together in an incredible array of colors, patterns, and visual textures. The message lands softly on the perfect spot, and holds fast creating an image of detailed beauty.
In reality, it's more apt to be like strands of wet spaghetti thrown at a wall. If the pasta sticks, it's done enough to eat. If it slides down into the dust bunnies in the corner, not so much.
When I write, I have the time to think about each word. I have the time to sit and look at each one as it appears on the page. I can pause for minutes, hours, days, weeks, and even months at a time. I can write, delete, rewrite, delete, and rewrite a thousand times more. Each sentence is handcrafted one consonant, vowel, and grammatical convention at a time. There is a natural space between the words, and a cohesiveness to the ideas. And there is a hope, that the words themselves carry with them, of clarity and understanding.
When I speak, however, my language comes in fits and spurts. It's like a "rough draft," that is poured out hastily so that nothing will be forgotten or lost. Therefore, many, many edits will need to be made. And when speaking, that sounds like the speaker has an inherent indecisiveness. Or worse, that they are incompetent about a subject.
Perhaps, some of my communication troubles are linked to my writing. People who know me, have in all likelihood read emails, letters, posts, or text messages from me. I can write a good email, as long as I take my time. Texting goes ok, again with breathing spaces during the conversation. And hopefully, my longer missives are finely crafted communications.
Perhaps, some of my difficulties stem from the rapid nature of communication today. With the constant deluge of information of daily input, we have come to expect an instant response to our inquiries. We await that return text as though our lives depended on it. We cannot stand to sit still in our unknowing, when we can search for answers to billions of questions in a matter of nanoseconds.
In the end though, I know that the majority of my communication problems stem from within. I think and feel in a way that is not neuro-typical. I see and assess my surroundings in ways that take longer and more circuitous routes than those who are wired in non-aspie/non-spectrum ways. The pathways that the neurons take in my brain are in radically different formations than that of someone who is not on the autism spectrum. I reach conclusions that are atypical, a word I first learned in grade 7, when I had to use a thesaurus for a Language Arts (grammar) quiz. Ironically, my teacher marked my response using the word atypical as incorrect because she thought that it was not a word. But I stood my ground, and in what I see as an ironic twist, she left education for waitressing a few years later. Maybe she realized that if the student could be right, the customer was always right.
Regardless, I know that how I say my words will be a challenge for me and for those around me. The meaning may be good, but the terms and the syntax may prevent the listener from hearing the message. Sadly, the older I get the less tolerance I have for those who try to wordsmith what I say as I am saying it. I know full well that I may not have expressed my concerns, hopes, or whatever other thoughts in the best way. But, I am doing the best that I can. I wish that those listeners would wait a breath and hear me before they respond. Maybe we might both be heard more clearly if we paused for a moment.
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| Just Listen |
And when we do that, we will gain more words, more meanings, and more trust in each other's abilities to work together.
Thank you for taking the time to listen to this part of the journey.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
- Ari
