All I Want to Do

For me the outsider, one of the most difficult parts of my Autism journey, is understanding why my son Ty, harms himself. It began on week three of his life. He was not the newborn who accidentally scratched at his face, unaware of how powerful his tiny hands were. It was more like his eyes were the powerful ones, so much so that it hurt, and his hands went up, instinctively, to scratch out that pain.

I know, my Love, it is hard to see all this.

I have struggled to make peace with, all this, too.

Yesterday, while I was waiting for him to stop, waiting for that first second, where he has done enough damage, where he will let me hold him and take over the pain management, where my opportunity to comfort him finally comes in, this song came on around us.

All I Want to Do

by Bob Dylan

I ain't lookin' to compete with you

Beat or cheat or mistreat you

Simplify you, classify you

Deny, defy or crucify you

All I really want to do

Is, baby, be friends with you.

No, and I ain't lookin' to fight with you

Frighten you or uptighten you

Drag you down or drain you down

Chain you down or bring you down

All I really want to do

Is, baby, be friends with you.

I ain't lookin' to block you up

Shock or knock or lock you up

Analyze you, categorize you

Finalize you or advertise you

All I really want to do

Is, baby, be friends with you.

I don't want to straight-face you

Race or chase you, track or trace you

Or disgrace you or displace you

Or define you or confine you

All I really want to do

Is, baby, be friends with you.

I don't want to meet your kin

Make you spin or do you in

Or select you or dissect you

Or inspect you or reject you

All I really want to do

Is, baby, be friends with you.

I don't want to fake you out

Take or shake or forsake you out

I ain't lookin' for you to feel like me

See like me or be like me

All I really want to do

Is, baby, be friends with you.

I had heard the song before, casually, with out listening. This time I was wide open though, wanting so desperately to find answers for Ty, begging the moment. Why my boy with the beautiful eyes? Why does he hurt himself? Why?

Sometimes I don't get to know.

I don't get to know what it is like;
to be compelled to harm yourself,
to need to control physical pain because there is so much,
to be driven to self injury within your first glimpses of the world.

I can try my best to understand, I can relate, I can learn, but there are things I just don't get to know.

I don't get to know what it is to be Autistic.

I don't get to know what it is to be Ty.

I do get to love him.

I do get to finally comfort him.

Mother him.

Be friends with him.

And I do have a new song stuck in my head.