I never would have guessed...
“If I hadn’t been there with you that day, I never would have guessed all you had gone through.”
Today, I got my new driver’s license in the mail. As I was opening the envelope, I joked, “wanna guess how pissed off I look?” My husband responded, “It probably looks like P!nk’s mugshot.” We were both wrong. I looked relaxed and somewhat happy. My husband said, “If I hadn’t been there with you that day, I never would have guessed all you had gone through.”
But in my eyes, I can see disassociation.
When we arrived at the DMV, several people immediately gave doe eyes to my service dog. She was due for a groom, so her perfect poodle clip had grown to teddy bear status. She sensed my distress in the new environment, so once I parked my chair, she stepped up on the tops of my feet on the wheelchair footplate to give me Deep Pressure Therapy (DPT). I love this task, but it inevitably attracts people. An elderly man came right into our space to the front while his wife chatted me up from behind. The man, without consent, began petting my service dog as she was tasking. “Ignore,” I told her, “focus.” “It’s okay,” the man replied. As an Autistic female, saying “no” was beaten out of me long ago, so now, as an adult, it takes courage to make my limits and boundaries known. “It is not okay, she is working and needs to focus.” Finding that balance of kind yet firm is difficult for me as an Autistic, and as an abuse survivor, so this interaction was a hard-fought victory.
Finally, it was my turn. We got to the window to find that, in this state, we need every bit of identifying paperwork to transfer a license. Given all it took to get me out, I was not leaving empty-handed. So my husband went back while I waited. That 30 minutes of DMV sensory information was a lot. My muscles seized, and I had trouble breathing, but my girl was there to focus and ground my attention.
My husband made it back. We waited a bit more before being called. Everything went smoothly until the eye test and photo. Neither were wheelchair accessible. I scooted forward in my chair for the eye exam. I was uncomfortable and knew I'd pay for it in pain later, but it was doable. The camera hoisted high on an apparatus was not so doable. The photo would only catch the top of my head. Suddenly, people approached my husband, offering all kinds of “solutions.” One offered cushions to sit me up on. Another suggested stacking chairs. An attendant suggested my husband lift me. While well intended, all this was making matters worse. Not only was this unwanted attention, but each suggestion was only a solution to their problem. Not one of those suggestions was physically safe for me. Not one of those suggestions honored my dignity. Every one of the suggestions missed the point: I was being asked to put myself in harm's way so that it could be overlooked that they violated civil rights law. I was exhausted, angry, frustrated, embarrassed & a little surprised, this being a government building and all.
The manager offered no help. I was about to push back my pain and just do it until my service dog, recognizing my state, performed a medical alert and response task. She hopped up on my feet. I slid my fingers into her ebony coils and connected with her caramel eyes. With one swift motion, she commanded everyone to stop and pay attention. Feeling safe, I allowed myself to let out some of what I was feeling. It is not healthy to hold it in. And they needed to see it. After I collected myself, I positioned my chair to be a support. I told the attendant they needed to do it quickly because I would not be able to stand for long. I got up, walked around my chair, and smiled for the camera. This is what people with disabilities do all the time. We put ourselves in harm's way and smile while doing it so that others are not uncomfortable. Determined to break the cycle, if only in myself, I calmly told the attendant, “I understand that this has nothing to do with you, but this is in violation of civil rights law. Where can I make a report?" It was the hardest thing I had done all day after a litany of hard things. When we got in the car, my sensory overload dam broke. I crashed at home for a few days. However, my picture showed what most people see — ease, grace & nothing out of the ordinary.