DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 4
𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵.
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )
In the hallway, Chip's
sobs grow quieter as he
slumps against the wall,
his heart feeling heavy.
He didn't mean to hurt
his dad; he just wanted to
know what was wrong.
Karen sits beside
Plankton, her heart torn
between her son's innocence
and her husband's pain.
"We need to talk to him,"
she says gently, stroking
his antennae. "We can't let
this go unaddressed. But we
can do it when you're ready."
Plankton nods, his body
still tense. "I know," he says,
his voice small. "But I just
can't... I can't face him right
now."
Karen nods, giving his
hand a comforting squeeze.
"Okay, honey. Take your time.
But we can't let him think
that he's not loved or that
his questions are wrong.
We need to explain it to him
properly."
Plankton sighs heavily,
his antennae drooping. "I
know," he murmurs. "Just talk
to him when I'm... ready."
Karen nods, her screen
shimmering with unshed
tears. "Okay," she says, her
voice gentle. She gives him
a kiss on the forehead and
leaves the room to find Chip
in his own bedroom.
Chip's door is ajar,
and she can hear his muffled
sobs. She opens it slowly,
finding him curled up
on his bed, his screen buried
in his pillow. She approaches
his side, sitting down
carefully. "Chip," she says,
her voice soothing. "It's okay.
You can come out now."
He pulls away the
pillow, revealing a tear-stained
screen. "But Dad..." he sniffles.
Karen's eyes fill with
sympathy. "I know you didn't mean
it, Chip. But you hurt
your dad. We need to talk
about what happened. And I
know you've questions about
his autistic disability.."
Chip sits up, his eyes
red and puffy. "But Mom,
why is he so mad at me?
I just wanted to know
what's going on."
Karen sighs, her heart
aching for her son. "Chip,
sometimes when people are
upset or scared, they say
things they don't mean. Your
dad's not mad at you for
asking questions; he's mad
at himself for not being able
to explain it better. But the
words you said hurt him. They
hurt him because people
have used them before to
make him feel less than."
Chip looks at her, his eyes
still wet with tears. "But I
don't want him to feel bad,"
he murmurs. "I didn't kn-"
Karen cuts him off gently.
"I know you didn't, Chip. But
it's important for us to
learn and understand. Your
dad's condition isn't a
weakness; it's just part of
how he is. And sometimes,
it can be scary for him
too."
Chip nods slowly, trying to
comprehend the complexity
of his dad's condition. "But
why can't he just tell me?"
he asks, his voice thick with
emotion. "Why does it have
to be a secret?"
Karen takes a deep breath.
"It's not a secret, Chip,"
she says gently. "It's just
something private, something
he's not wanting to share
with everyone. But now that
you know, we can help him."
Chip sniffs and nods. "How?"
he asks, his voice hopeful.
"Well," Karen starts, "you can
learn more about autism.
You can ask us questions, and
we'll answer them the best we
can. And when you see Dad
having a hard time, you can
give him space, or maybe find
a quiet spot for him to sit."
Chip wipes his screen with the
back of his hand. "Okay, Mom.
But what if I want to hug
him?"
Karen sighs. "Honey, your
dad's condition makes certain
kinds of touch hard for
him to handle. It's not that
he doesn't want your love;
he just needs it in a different
way."
Chip looks at her, his
eyes still filled with confusion.
"But I don't understand,"
he says, his voice shaking. "How
do I know when to hug him?"
Karen's smile is sad, but
determined. "You'll learn,
sweetie. We'll all learn
together. Just remember,
it's not about fixing him;
it's about supporting him."
Chip nods, his eyes still
filled with unshed tears. "Okay,"
he says, his voice small. "But
I don't want to make him sad."
Karen squeezes his hand.
"You won't, Chip. We'll get
through this together."
Chip looks up at her with
questioning eyes. "But why
does he get those... those
seizures?" he asks, still
trying to grasp the concept.
"They're not exactly
seizures, Chip," Karen says, her
voice gentle. "It's part of his
condition. Sometimes, his
brain just needs a break from
all the sensory information. It's
not something you can see or
feel, but it's real for him."
Chip nods, his eyes
still puffy from crying. "But
why doesn't he just tell me
when he needs a break?" he asks.
"Why does he have to get so
angry?"
Karen sighs, trying to
find the right words to explain.
"Chip, your dad's feelings are
sometimes like a volcano. They
build up and up until they
explode. It's not anger at you;
it's his way of dealing with
the overwhelm. And sometimes,
his brain gets too much stimulation
without him knowing it.
It's like he's trying to read a book
while everyone around him is
yelling at once. It's just too much."
Chip nods slowly, his eyes
fixed on his mom. "But why can't
he just tell me?" he asks again,
his voice still shaky.
Karen hugs him. "Because, honey,
your dad's had to deal with this
his whole life, and sometimes
it's hard for him to talk about."
Chip nods, trying to
understand. "But what if he needs
help?" he asks, his voice
small. "How will I know?" "You'll
learn his cues, Chip. Sometimes
he'll get quiet, or his antennae
will twitch more than usual. That's
when you can check on him,
ask if he's okay, but don't push."
Chip nods, his curiosity piqued.
"What if he doesn't say anything?"
he asks, his screen searching hers.
Karen takes a deep breath.
"Then, you'll have to watch for
his cues," she says, her voice
calm. "If he seems overwhelmed
or his antennae are moving a
lot, it might be a sign."
Chip's eyes light up with
curiosity. "What cues, Mom?"
he asks eagerly. "How do I
know?"
Karen smiles softly. "Well,
you'll learn, Chip. Like when
his antennae get really twitchy,
or his eye glazes over. That's when
his brain might need a break.
And if he starts repeating
things, or gets really still,
that's another sign."
Chip's eyes widen with
interest. "So, how do
you know, Mom?" he asks, his
voice tentative. "How can I
see when he's overwhelmed?"
"You'll get better at it,"
Karen assures him. "But for
now, just watch and listen.
If he starts flapping his
arms or repeating words, that's a
sign that he might need some
space. And if he turns away or
covers his eye, it means he's
getting too much sensory input."
Chip nods, his mind racing
with questions. "But you
seem to know how to
touch him and when to
hug him. How'd yo--"
Karen smiles sadly. "It's
been years of practice, Chip.
And I've made my share of
mistakes too." She pauses,
thinking. "You'll learn
his cues, like when his
body tenses up, or when
his antennae start to quiver
quickly. Those are signs
he's feeling overwhelmed."
Chip nods, his eyes
focused on her. "But what
about him getting upset?"
he asks, his voice filled with
concern. "How do I know
when he's about t---"
"Chip," Karen says, cutting
him off gently. "When he gets
upset, his antennae might flare
out, or he might rock back
and forth. It's his way of
self-soothing."
Chip's eyes are wide with
realization. "So, when he
does that, I should...?"
"Give him space," Karen
interrupts. "Just let him know
you're there without overwhelming
his senses."
Chip nods, trying to
memorize every detail.