Sometimes I flap my hands. Other times I flail. Still others I attempt to spin. Sometimes I pull out a beanie baby and stroke it. Or chew on a chewable necklace.
Sometimes I flap my hands. Sometimes it looks weird to you. Sometimes you wonder why I’m doing it. You side eye me. You look at me weird. What you don’t realize is this movement, this seemingly meaningless movement, is everything but meaningless to me.
Sometimes I flap my hands. And because I’m flapping, I’m not crying. I’m not squealing (though those happen with it too at times!).
Sometimes I flap my hands.
All I ask of you is to accept me. All I ask of you is to understand that this is how I ground myself. This is how I keep myself calm. This is how I express myself.
Sometimes I flap my hands, and that’s okay.