MY HALF OF THE TIDE
Richard Attfield , a minimally speaking autistic man who uses facilitated communication and a Lightwriter , writes about his communication journey , the ache to communicate like others and learning how to use verbal speech as an adult.
The day finally came, however, when I realized I had to join in the conversation as myself - no digital voice to do it for me. After all I am British, not American, and my good old English accent needs to be heard in this country as far as freedom of speech goes — from a person with autism and limited speech that is! So I finally decided that I was going to try once again to communicate through speech. I must admit I was rather like a cat on a hot tin roof — aggravated beyond belief — trying to get myself out of the situation that I found myself in, of wanting to join in a conversation but having so much difficulty still. So last September I decided to try to talk a few sentences each day. As a person that had never held a conversation in his entire life, attempting to do so was an overwhelming experience. The end result was not a happy one because eventually I felt I had failed again, although in fact I did manage a few sentences that came out rather well. The final crunch came, however, the day the sound/tone of my voice registered with me. It sounded odd even to my own ears! It scared the hell out of me to hear my own voice talking in sentences, I can tell you! As I mentioned to Doug at the time, I felt like I was dragging myself up the side of a mountain. It was a tiny little voice I heard, clear cut, sharp even, but not good enough for me — that is what I told myself (fine excuse). Here I was a tall six foot hunk — I did not want a tiny little voice coming out of my huge frame.
When i do actually try to speak the words as I type, I feel so sure of my own identity that I can hold on to it for hours afterwards. I feel so sure of who I am. I fill up with joy inside that I can hear myself speaking and I tell myself that I am the same as other people and not some inferior being, even if it is only for a few minutes. I feel so excited by the whole thing of being myself and joining in the conversation verbally for a short time but then afterwards I feel so hurt again by the feeling of defeat that comes over me because in reality I know I am not the same as other people. Then I go through the sheer hell of denying all I am again because I feel so bad but then I glance up into my Mother's face and see her dogged determination and I fight the anxiety that I feel, I fight the urge to give up trying, I fight the urge to go back to my own room and hide from people because I know deep down inside I want to be myself through and through.
