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| Image credit: Photo by Nena B. on Flickr Licensed under Creative Commons |
A few months ago, Mark and I took the kids to a "sensory friendly" movie showing. Autistic individuals, and others with sensory processing difficulties, can find a typical movie going experience overwhelming. Movies are loud. Theaters are dark and often crowded. The screen is huge and the images on it are flickering and fast paced. There are previews and commercials before the show that switch rapidly from one theme to another, while we wait impatiently for what we actually came to see. Then when the movie does start, its story and situations are designed to evoke strong emotional responses: to scare or thrill or amaze us. And did I mention they're LOUD?
Most of us go to the movies to be a little overwhelmed. But for some people, all of that can be too much. So, at sensory friendly showings, there are no previews. The lights are dim, but the theater is not dark. And the sound is turned down. And not only that, it's ok to sing or talk or to get up and walk around, dance or jump if it all gets to be too much anyway.
At the showing we went to, some kids got up and paced the aisles. Some rocked in their seats. Some grunted or chirped. My son commented on the movie at full voice. (Whispering is only for secrets.) And we all had a fun day out doing something different while nobody stared. Nobody glared. Nobody shifted uncomfortably in their seats and made little "hem" noises in their throats. The air didn't buzz with electric hostility. And nobody had to worry that, at any moment, it might.
I don't know about the other parents in that theater, but I felt like I'd been able to put down a hundred pound weight. The kids and young adults in that theater could all be themselves, and we all understood. No one said anything or did anything, but there was a palpable sense of acceptance in the air. It hung there, invisible but enveloping, like the drowsy smell of honeysuckle on a warm afternoon. What a relief. Which made me realize just how guarded I am and how much weight, how much fear and tension and worry, I carry every day.
This past weekend, I went to a convention for my 12 Step group. Hundreds of sex addicts and their partners or family members gathered in hotel conference rooms and ballrooms. There were meetings and workshops and outings. There were speakers who shared their experience, strength and hope. At each banquet iced tea was served instead of alcohol. No one gossiped about the latest infidelity scandal in the media. People openly shared their pain and their weaknesses and their gratitude. And all weekend long, I had nothing to do but connect with my Higher Power in a group of people who was supporting me in doing just that. All weekend long, I felt I had nothing to worry about and nothing to fear.
Again that love and acceptance enveloped me. Again that hundred pound weight dropped off my shoulders. Again the relief washed over me. And again I realized just how guarded I am and how much weight, how much fear and tension and worry, I carry every day.
On the last day of the convention, I wept with gratitude for the gift of having been there. (If you were one of the lovely ladies sitting around a hotel banquet table with me on Monday morning at breakfast, yes, that was me crying and smiling at you all crazy.) We were asked on that last day if we had picked up any burdens that we wanted to leave behind, and I couldn't think of any. All I could think was that I needed to try not to reshoulder the burdens I'd set down when I entered.
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