From the time I was wee little, I'd jam my fingers into my ears at fireworks and movies.
Of course, I've since upgraded to headphones for such events...
But I still hold my ears closed tight, and not just at auditorily offensive things.
If something is scary,
Or bright,
Or if I'm just not quite certain,
My hands go to my ears.
When we were in Disney World, all the photos that the rides took of us... my hands were to my ears.
And I got to thinking, just now, about how my figurative hands are invariably parked at my figurative ears, too.
Though the story doesn't matter much, someone said something that maybe, could have upset me yesterday.
But I wasn't sure.
Hands in my ears, I texted (my friend) Leigh to ask her if I "should" be upset.
And I waited, teetering on the verge of upsetness for more than 24 hours till Leigh had a minute to respond.
She did.
Not upset, it was decided. Hands removed from ears.
And how silly is that? That I had to hold my ears while waiting for someone else to tell me if I should be upset?
Why can't I say, darn it, that rubbed me the wrong way and I'm a little angry! I should go talk to that person!
Or else, more likely for me, yeah, that wasn't the nicest thing to say, but it's not worth getting bent out of shape over.
I have a mind of my own, after all.
Enough with the plugging of the ears.
Experience the world for all it's worth.
Lydia Wayman is a 23-year-old Pittsburgher who loves cats, writing, more cats, and more writing. She also has autism. Lydia found her voice through typing and uses her writing ability, combined with a degree in education, to blog, write books, speak, and consult for families. She believes that a girl with a dream and a keyboard can change the world and has set out to do just that.
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