KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY iv
(Autistic author)
Sandy feels the full weight
of her words crash down upon
her. The accusations she had
thrown at Plankton now felt like
sharp stones in her own stomach.
Her mind reels as she tries to
comprehend what she had just
learned. Autism? Plankton?
How could she have been so
blind, so cruel?
Her gaze falls to the floor,
avoiding Karen's. "I'm so sorry,"
she whispers, her voice thick with
guilt. "I didn't know."
Karen nods, her own emotions
swirling. "But we need to be
more careful with him."
Sandy's eyes are glued to
the floor, her tail flicking
nervously. "I didn't mean to
hurt him," she says, her voice
small and ashamed. "I just
thought he was being weird."
Karen nods, understanding. "I
know," she says, her voice gentle.
"But now we know better, and we
have to help him." She moves
towards the bedroom, her steps
determined. "Let's go check
on him."
They enter the room quietly.
Karen's optical sensors scan his
tiny form, noticing the slight rise
and fall of his chest. He's
asleep, she realizes, exhausted
from the emotional turmoil.
Sandy's gaze follows hers, her
expression a mix of regret and
curiosity. She's never seen
Plankton like this before,
his features softer, almost
peaceful in repose. "Is he okay?"
she asks, her voice a whisper.
Karen nods, her hand reaching
out to touch his shoulder.
"He's sleeping," she says, her voice
filled with tenderness. "It's been
a big day for him."
Sandy steps closer, her gaze
taking in Plankton's sleeping
features. His face, usually
twisted with plotting and
schemes, is now slack with
exhaustion. His eye, usually
alive with cunning, is closed,
and his breaths come in deep,
even snores, his mouth slightly
agape.
"What do we do now?" Sandy
asks, her voice hushed. Karen
sits beside him on the bed,
her hand still on his shoulder.
"We help him," she says, her
voice firm. "We learn about his
autism and how we can support
him."
They spend the next few
moments in silence, the air
heavy with the weight of what
has been said. Karen's hand
continues to gently stroke
Plankton's shoulder.
Sandy sits down on the
opposite side of the bed.
Her gaze is fixed on
Plankton, her thoughts racing.
She had known him for so
long, and yet she had never
considered this possibility.
"What does this mean for him?"
she whispers, her voice filled
with concern.
Karen sighs, her hand
still stroking Plankton's
shoulder. "It means we'll
have to make some changes,"
she says softly. "He'll need
routines, and patience, and
understanding."
Sandy nods, her eyes
glistening with unshed tears.
"I can do that," she says, her
voice filled with determination.
"But what about... us?"
Karen looks up, her gaze
meeting Sandy's. "What do you
mean?" she asks, her hand
pausing in its soothing motion.
Sandy swallows, her eyes still on
Plankton. "Our friendship," she
says. "How do we handle this
without making him feel...
different?"
Karen nods, understanding her
concern. "We just need to be
there for him," she says. "He's
still the same Plankton, just
with some new challenges."
They sit in silence for a
moment, the only sound the
rhythm of Plankton's snores.
Sandy reaches out tentatively,
her paw hovering over his arm.
"Is it ok to touch him?" she asks.
Karen nods. "Yes, Sandy. Just be
gentle," she whispers.
Sandy's paw touches Plankton's
arm, her touch light and tentative.
He stirs slightly, but doesn't
wake. She leaves her paw there,
offering comfort without intrusion.
Karen watches them
with a mix of love and
fear for the future. Plankton's
autism was still a mystery to
them, a labyrinth they were just
beginning to navigate. She knows
it won't be easy, but she's
determined to be by his side.
"We're a team," she says,
squeezing Plankton's shoulder.
Sandy nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's sleeping
form. "A team," she repeats, her
voice filled with resolve.
For the first time since the
diagnosis, the three of them are
united in a common goal: to
understand and support Plankton
as he navigates his new reality.
Sandy and Karen exchange a look,
each one filled with a determination
that mirrors the other. They've
been friends through thick and
thin, through Krabby Patty
heists and jellyfish stings, and
now they're facing a challenge
none of them had ever anticipated.
Sandy's paw remains on
Plankton's arm, her touch
steady and reassuring.
Plankton stirred, his sleep
disturbed by the unfamiliar
weight of Sandy's paw on his
arm.
His eye fluttered open, and he
was met with the sight of
Sandy and Karen, their faces
contorted with a mix of
concern and confusion. He sat up
quickly, his body jolting with
fear.
"Plankton, it's ok," Karen
soothes, her hand reaching out to
calm him. "You're safe."
"Karen sad?" he
asks, his voice
cracking.
Sandy's paw tightens on his
arm, which makes Plankton
feel uncomfortable enough to
get him to snap at her.
"What Sandy want?" he
asks, his voice sharp, his
body tense with anxiety.
Sandy's eyes fill with tears.
"I didn't mean to make you
upset," she says, her voice
shaking. "I just didn't know."
Plankton's gaze flits
between them, trying to read
their expressions, but his
brain struggles to interpret their
complex emotions. "Karen sad?" he
repeats, his voice a mix of
fear and confusion.
Karen's hand moves to cover
Sandy's, her grip firm but gentle.
"No, Plankton," she says, her
voice soothing. "We're just
concerned about you."
Sandy takes a deep breath,
forcing back her tears. "I'm sorry,"
she says, her voice barely above a
whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt
you."
Plankton's gaze flickers
between them, his mind racing to
understand the situation. "No
hurt," he says, his voice shaky.
"Sandy say Karen sad. No sad."
Karen's circuits pulse with a
mixture of relief and sadness.
"Sandy didn't mean it, Plankton,"
she says, her voice filled with
compassion. "We're all just trying
to understand what's happening."
Sandy's eyes are cast down, her
paws fidgeting in her lap. "I'm
sorry," she murmurs, her voice
heavy with regret. "I didn't
know." She grabs Plankton in
a hug, unaware of how the tight
embrace might feel to him. Plankton
stiffens, his senses getting overwhelmed.
"No touch," he says, his voice tight.
Sandy quickly releases him, her eyes
wide with apology. "I'm sorry," she
says, her voice trembling. "I just
wanted to help."
Karen nods, her gaze softening.
"We all do," she says. "But we
have to learn how to help in ways
that don't overwhelm him."
Plankton's eye darts around
the room, with the need
to regulate himself.
He starts to rock
in a rhythmic motion, a
self-soothing behavior
his new autism
craves. The sensation of
his own movements helps
to calm the storm of
thoughts and emotions
swirling within him.
Karen notices the change
immediately and nods
understandingly. "It's
ok, Plankton," she says,
her voice gentle. "You
do what you need to do."
Sandy watches, her curiosity
piqued by the rhythmic rocking
"What's he doing?"
she asks, her voice hushed.
Karen sighs, her gaze
filled with understanding.
"It's his way of self-soothing,"
she explains. "It's called stimming."
Sandy's eyes widen, taking in
Plankton's rhythmic rocks.
"Stimming?" she repeats. "What's
that?"
Karen nods, her voice calm
and patient. "It's a way for him
to regulate his sensory
input," she explains. "It helps
him feel safe and in control."
Sandy watches. He starts to hum, a low
buzz that resonates in the
quiet room, his way of finding
comfort in the chaos of his
thoughts.
"It's ok," Karen whispers, her
hand on his shoulder. "We're
here."
Plankton's eye lock onto her
hand, the pressure of her touch
offering a semblance of comfort.
He starts to rock back and forth
again. The movement
calms him slightly.
Sandy watches. She had never
seen Plankton like this before.
The sharpness of her words
from earlier stings her
now, as she realizes the
depth of his distress.
"I'm sorry," she says, her voice
quiet. "I didn't know."
Plankton's humming turns to
a soft melody, his body
still moving in a soothing
pattern. The words echo in his
head, a reminder of the world's
expectations he can never quite
meet.
Sandy watches him, her own
world now forever changed.
She had always known Plankton
to be eccentric, but this was
different. This was real.
Her mind reels with questions
and fears. How would this
affect their friendship?
Could they ever return to
the easy banter they once
shared? Would he still be the
same friend she had always
known?
But as she watches him
stim, the reality of the
situation starts to set in.
Plankton was still Plankton,
but with a new set of rules
and a new way of seeing the
world. Sandy makes a silent
vow to learn those rules, to
understand his world as much
as he had tried to understand
hers.