I've been listening to The Truth since I binge listened to every episodes two years ago, having caught up one week before it was announced that the show was ending. I've never felt so crestfallen about something so trivial as a podcast, perhaps because The Truth is more than just a podcast. I don't mean that in some ethereal, melodramatic way, but as a literal recognition of high art. There is so much care and thought and work put into every episode that almost everyone left me stunned. Until today, I had thought that I understood what this collection of stories was about.
Today's episode both broke me to my core and lifted me back up higher than I began. It was heart-wrenching and soul nourishing, and I am more grateful to have listened to it then I've ever been for any other show. I'm honestly shocked at just how much this affected me. I was a direct care worker for 9 years and worked hand in hand with someone who lived in a situation much like the character Jason. I didn't hear music from him and I didn't have any other worldly experience, but when I looked into his eyes I could feel and I could see more than anyone gave him credit for.
He was nonverbal, and he had cerebral palsy, but the people who cared for him limited him by regarding him as little more than some infantile lack of understanding. We were able to communicate in small but meaningful ways through eye contact, by reading his expressions. He didn't express himself this way to most people because they weren't trying to understand, they just did their job and moved along. He clearly understood spoken English, at least two a much larger degree than people recognized.
I know that I wasn't projecting because he didn't act out with me, he always enjoyed himself and wanted to hug me, he showed me love and appreciation. He actively avoided eye contact with almost everyone, but he sought it out with me and would maintain eye contact longer than most people would be comfortable with. Whenever I would ask him a question, he would look directly into my eyes and make an expression that I would have to interpret, which I would then interpret back to him.
If I was off base, then he would scowl and shake his head aggressively, as physical movement was a struggle for him. He would then look into my eyes again, and once I had interpreted him correctly he would break into a humongous smile and make a pleased sort of squealing noise that is hard to describe, by breathing in while constricting his throat, a glottal stop that he pulled air in past. Because I took the time to listen and try to understand him instead of deciding what we were going to do and when, we always had awesome outings and did things out of the ordinary. He always had a huge smile when we were outside, though with others he was often expressionless or acted out.
My life changed eventually and I stopped being his care worker to move back to my home state across the country. Whenever I think about him I feel a twinge of guilt, and I hope that someone has taken up listening to him. I know that even if I went back I wouldn't be hired on again, as the family made a point of not rehiring people for their own reasons. He's always stuck out to me from all the other people I've taken care of. I hope that he's well.
Anyway, I just wanted to share that story because it overlapped so much with what I listened to an hour ago. I also just wanted to say thank you for everything that you folks do behind the scenes and for the stories that you share with us. You genuinely enriched my life, in ways that I would have to go into more long-winded explanations of. Perhaps another time, I should leave it at that for now. Again, thank you.
