Today at the beach I found this old piece of pottery. It’s
been worn smooth from the waves and it fits perfectly in my hand. My thumb rub
it over and over and over and over -it feels great
My thumbs are major in my stimming, always have been. I
think one reason my thumb stims survived the years of stim-suppression I
underwent at school and home is that I could stim surreptitiously with my
thumbs. It was pretty easy to tuck my hand into the folds of a cardigan sweater
and reach for the nubby underside of a button, or to slide my thumbs and fingers
quietly along the coolness beneath a school desk. And while I loved to glide my
hands across a tree trunk with abandon when no one was watching, I could also quietly pinch a piece of moss-eaten bark between my thumb and forefinger, anytime.
I was told that stims were bad and was really shamed for
them at a young age. It’s taken me half a lifetime of learning to realize that
they never should have been pathologized. To know that stims should never have been
made a big deal of and that, in fact, they've been a helpful way to be
grounded and cope in intense sensory situations.
Some of my early stims have been extinguished (such as
walking in circles) but many remain in modified form. For example, I don’t tend
to jump when I’m happy like I did as a child, but I rock up and down at the
knees. And while I flapped when I got excited as a child, I now only flap when
I’m very agitated. Now, my hands fly around my head like a flock of birds; it's a
way to get settled but also a warning flare. If you see it happening, please
give me some space!
For someone my age (40), the idea of stim toys, designed and
made by autistics and for sale online, is totally amazing. (Way to win,
Neurodiversity Movement!) All my life, I’ve just been grabbing at things that
feel good and making use of them.
The closest thing I had to a stimmie toy was a gift from my
father’s fishing buddy, who handed it down to me one day like an afterthought. “It’s
a worry stone,” he said. I realize now that it was quite intentional, and kind,
he gave me that gift. He somehow knew that would be the thing I liked the most –
a soft piece of marble with one pointed edge and a silky indentation just
perfect for my thumb.
I wasn’t able to thank him, but he was one of those special
people who didn’t need a thank you to understand gratitude. We should all feel
so comforted, understood and validated for the beautiful forms of comfort we
forge from the ordinary.
This piece of pottery is a lot like the worry stone Uncle
Scott gave me all those years ago. I’ll use it when I’m thinking hard,
especially if I’m communicating or when I’m just relaxing. Claiming it as a
stim is part of healing from the abuse and suppression I faced as a kid.
Stimming shouldn’t have to be secret. NO ONE has the right to suppress an
autistic person from stimming. Our hands were not meant to be quiet. Stim on!
