So! I'm looking to explore the concept of little space, and how it can help a person through use of it as a coping mechanism. As such, I’m looking for a best friend for him. I’d prefer to give him someone who can be more motherly to him as a bestie especially for when he is in little space.
Meet James. He's 18 years old, and rather reserved and quiet. He's on the autistic spectrum and though he manages to cope with day to day life on a somewhat regular basis, he does have some coping methods that people might judge him on. He likes to suck on a paci in bed, and loves to snuggle with his favourite stuffie at night too. He finds social interaction difficult and tiring, and he is often rather prone to panic attacks. He struggles daily with anxiety issues, and can be prone to tears if he's overwhelmed.
He does tend to "hyper-fixate" on things, and his current two obsessions are the "Thomas The Tank Engine" series of books/toys (And have been for his entire life) and Pokemon. His favourite food is cereal, and he loves milk. Warm milk, cold milk, chocolate, strawberry...
He just loves milk! He can be a rather picky eater, not liking certain textures due to sensory reasons. As a result, he tends to stick to the same kinds of foods for every meal. He likes his cereal for breakfast, then for lunch he tends to stick to crackers with an apple for desert. And a glass of milk, of course. Dinner, he likes chicken with peas and carrots or green beans. Snack wise, he likes a particular brand of cereal bar and would happily eat an entire box in one sitting!
___
Trauma.
This word could easily be used by some to describe what James was currently going through, though others might see him as needing to “Man up” or “Get tougher”. But if one were to ask him, they’d likely get no answer.
He had spent the last week sitting on his bed, knees drawn to his chest and chin resting on it as he stared at the wall opposite where he sat. His phone lay on his bed unanswered, and his laptop hadn’t been opened either so emails and Facebook messages were both unanswered.
He closed his eyes a moment, then opened them again as he gingerly rose his left hand to brush two fingers against his cheek. From the cheek to the top of his head sat a large bruise, much darker and more swollen around his eye than anywhere else. The bridge of his nose had gauze and tape across it, denoting that it had been broken. His spectacles were taped on the bridge and across the left arm so they were able to be worn, though sat slightly askew on his face with the hint of a crack forming on the left lens. His top lip had been split open, and one of his bottom teeth had been broken in the impact.
Under his baggy hoodie, his ribs were cracked with dark and nasty bruises running up from his waist and across his chest to the right of his body which was covered in cuts and bruises. The right side of his face was unharmed, having managed to at least protect that. His arms were the same, as were his legs down to the right ankle which was currently wrapped in a bandage to prevent further swelling and injury from where he’d twisted it.
He’d been assaulted the previous Monday on his way home from school without her, mugged by two rather large men for what he had on him. They’d left him battered, bloody and broken in the gutter for a mere $25 and an old wristwatch which was worth $5 at the most. But the physical trauma amounted to nothing compared to how he was feeling psychologically.
The young man was terrified to leave his bedroom and was barely eating or drinking. Food could remain untouched on his bedside table for long periods, and all he seemed to be drinking was the water his dad brought to him. Painkillers were unopened, as if he were punishing himself for the event. He’d shower and use the ensuite bathroom, but that seemed to be all. His bedroom light was always turned off, and curtains drawn as though to shut himself off from the outside world.
As his bedroom door opened and the light was turned on, James looked up. Bags under his eyes and a dullness in his once bright blue orbs were so horribly clear, but as his eyes landed on the woman stood there, they seemed to widen a little before he closed them. He felt ashamed and didn’t want to be seen right now.
Meet James. He's 18 years old, and rather reserved and quiet. He's on the autistic spectrum and though he manages to cope with day to day life on a somewhat regular basis, he does have some coping methods that people might judge him on. He likes to suck on a paci in bed, and loves to snuggle with his favourite stuffie at night too. He finds social interaction difficult and tiring, and he is often rather prone to panic attacks. He struggles daily with anxiety issues, and can be prone to tears if he's overwhelmed.
He does tend to "hyper-fixate" on things, and his current two obsessions are the "Thomas The Tank Engine" series of books/toys (And have been for his entire life) and Pokemon. His favourite food is cereal, and he loves milk. Warm milk, cold milk, chocolate, strawberry...
He just loves milk! He can be a rather picky eater, not liking certain textures due to sensory reasons. As a result, he tends to stick to the same kinds of foods for every meal. He likes his cereal for breakfast, then for lunch he tends to stick to crackers with an apple for desert. And a glass of milk, of course. Dinner, he likes chicken with peas and carrots or green beans. Snack wise, he likes a particular brand of cereal bar and would happily eat an entire box in one sitting!
___
Trauma.
This word could easily be used by some to describe what James was currently going through, though others might see him as needing to “Man up” or “Get tougher”. But if one were to ask him, they’d likely get no answer.
He had spent the last week sitting on his bed, knees drawn to his chest and chin resting on it as he stared at the wall opposite where he sat. His phone lay on his bed unanswered, and his laptop hadn’t been opened either so emails and Facebook messages were both unanswered.
He closed his eyes a moment, then opened them again as he gingerly rose his left hand to brush two fingers against his cheek. From the cheek to the top of his head sat a large bruise, much darker and more swollen around his eye than anywhere else. The bridge of his nose had gauze and tape across it, denoting that it had been broken. His spectacles were taped on the bridge and across the left arm so they were able to be worn, though sat slightly askew on his face with the hint of a crack forming on the left lens. His top lip had been split open, and one of his bottom teeth had been broken in the impact.
Under his baggy hoodie, his ribs were cracked with dark and nasty bruises running up from his waist and across his chest to the right of his body which was covered in cuts and bruises. The right side of his face was unharmed, having managed to at least protect that. His arms were the same, as were his legs down to the right ankle which was currently wrapped in a bandage to prevent further swelling and injury from where he’d twisted it.
He’d been assaulted the previous Monday on his way home from school without her, mugged by two rather large men for what he had on him. They’d left him battered, bloody and broken in the gutter for a mere $25 and an old wristwatch which was worth $5 at the most. But the physical trauma amounted to nothing compared to how he was feeling psychologically.
The young man was terrified to leave his bedroom and was barely eating or drinking. Food could remain untouched on his bedside table for long periods, and all he seemed to be drinking was the water his dad brought to him. Painkillers were unopened, as if he were punishing himself for the event. He’d shower and use the ensuite bathroom, but that seemed to be all. His bedroom light was always turned off, and curtains drawn as though to shut himself off from the outside world.
As his bedroom door opened and the light was turned on, James looked up. Bags under his eyes and a dullness in his once bright blue orbs were so horribly clear, but as his eyes landed on the woman stood there, they seemed to widen a little before he closed them. He felt ashamed and didn’t want to be seen right now.