A Small Glimpse into Nonverbal

I had a nightmare last night.

I was stuck at a four way intersection with a dead car battery and people were quickly growing frustrated with me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words would come.

I tried sticking my hands out the window to sign, to make a hand motion that could explain my predicament, but it seemed my brain had stalled just like my vehicle.

People honked aggressively at me, motioning that it was my turn to go.

I wanted to explain to them, I tried to, but my body was rigid with stress.

Vehicles continued piling up behind me just like the thoughts and fears in my mind. ⠀

I remember wanting so badly to talk. I searched for words to explain myself.

I opened my mouth but only a yell escaped. And then suddenly I couldn’t stop yelling—it felt like all I could do.

People started getting out of their cars to check on me. “She’s gone mad,” someone said.

Another looked disgusted, “Why’s she screaming?”

I only screamed louder, hoping someone might understand. “Use your words,” someone chastised. “Get off the road so we can all get on with our lives!” ⠀

Horrible hurtful words, like stupid, lazy, and retarded were echoing all around me.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I continued trying to do…something—anything! But I stayed frozen as everything around me spun into a chaotic whirlwind.

It was too loud, too claustrophobic, too much. It was all too much.

I plugged my ears against their voices but they still got through.

In sync they all began to shout, “Move your car!”

Couldn’t anyone see that I wanted to? Didn’t anyone notice my internal struggle?

Surely they didn’t all think I was doing this on purpose. Did no one care?

I’d lost my voice, my mind, and I had no idea how to complete the task all these people were demanding of me.

My heart hammered against my breastbone. I felt like I’d soon pass out. And then I saw her. ⠀

“Mom!” I shouted, relieved to have remembered the word and surprised at how easily it came back to me.

My mother ran to hug me, pushing aside all the fears that had threaten to swallow me whole moments ago.

I slammed my eyes closed, buried my face into her shoulder and cried. “I explained the situation,” she said to me. “You’re okay now.”

And just like that, the storm inside me settled and when I opened my eyes, I was laying in my bed, very real tears falling to my pillow.

I felt like I’d been given but a small glimpse into the world of my two year old son with severe non-verbal autism.

Oh my boy, if that was even a small taste of what you mentally go through in a day, mommy is oh so sorry.

I’m here for you—to be your voice when you can’t find yours. To fix the mental traffic jam within your mind as best I can. To wrap you in a hug and make you feel safe when everything around you feels so chaotic.

I’ve got you little man, I’ve got you.

Written by, Lindsay Armstrong

I am a twenty-six year old wife, mothering two fast balls and one curve ball. Thriving on Jesus, sarcasm, and clorox wipes! Currently navigating the world of boy-motherhood, homeschooling, and autism spectrum disorder. Join us for the ride! You can follow us on my blog, Busy Boy-Momma, or on Facebook at Autism Motherhood, and on Instagram.

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