Terezija waited for years —
To be truly seen.
To be truly heard.
To be understood — in the language she speaks with her body, her face, her soul.
When we first met, she was sitting still. Her face was calm, focused.
She said nothing, gave no signal. She simply waited.
For the first contact. The first touch. For someone to give her a sign that the space was safe.
That it was time to open up.
And when I touched her hand and made the first sign, it all started to flow.
A story that had waited far too long suddenly poured out of her.
In just half an hour, she told me her entire life story using her own language.
Complete, precise, clear — with exact dates and key moments.
She described immense suffering, years of pain and neglect.
Things that should never have happened.
For more than 20 years, she lived in an institution — without real conversation,
without answers to her questions, without closeness.
She was just… waiting.
When I asked her why she was there, she simply said:
“Because the social services said I’d be better off here.”
Terezija never lost her will.
And when she finally had someone to talk to, she spoke.
Right after our conversation, I went straight to the institution’s management — shaken, overwhelmed.
They listened.
They tried to understand.
To understand that Terezija had a kind of language. Her own language. And a deep desire to be heard.
We helped her find a friend — Ida.
She, too, is a person with deafblindness.
They had been in the same institution for over thirty years.
But had never met. Not once…
Because others thought it would be too much for them.
Too emotional, too complicated, too incomprehensible — perhaps even too dangerous.
But when they met, it was instantly clear:
They needed each other.
They became best friends. They became each other’s world.
Eventually, they moved together into a supported housing unit (part of the institution).
And there, they could finally breathe. For the first time in their lives.
Every trip organized by the Deafblind Association of Slovenia DLAN was a treasure to them.
A sense of freedom. Of belonging.
Those ten years in the supported housing community were the best years of their lives.
