Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Sensory Snapshot

Photos aren't always as simple as they seem.
Found this picture on Facebook's On This Day feature, snapped by my Handler on June 12, 2010. It looks like a pretty composition of flowers with me, hazy, moving down the street on the left. What you can't see, and what I remember about this moment, is we had to walk a good 15 city blocks back to our apartment, and I was in full-blown #sensory overload - even on this seemingly calm and beautiful street. The day was especially warm and white and overwhelmingly bright, and we'd just come from a few hours of visiting our friends' new baby. I was burnt out from the engagement and uncomfortable in my skin and in my clothes and I just wanted to be back in our safe space with the AC on. I think I walked strides ahead of my Handler (again, back before I knew how powerful and helpful holding his squeezing hand could be) the entire way, frantically chasing down our final destination in my attempt to stave off a shutdown and seek safety.
It's this sort of subtle way that #SPD hides in plain sight: the woman speeding down the street attempting to escape from her own neurology, desperate to touch some sort of base like in her childhood games of tag - the bushes and stoops that surround her, a jumbled blur that her brain can't quite piece together; the painful sound of sirens and cars whirring by. Many feet behind her, the man snapping pictures of what he deems beautiful.
And aren't we?

*Originally posted on Coming to My Senses on Facebook on 6/12/17