Betrayal

Betrayal

aka: A Note to a Fraud

I've had lots of different psych doctors over the years. Some I have outgrown, some have outgrown me, some have moved, and some have moved on... but no one had betrayed me until now. 

I have always found it hard to trust people. I still haven't even shared this blog with all of my friends and family... and yet, I chose to trust... and that trust was misplaced. 

During my move to Texas, the most difficult thing was finding new doctors. My medical history can only be described as "complex". Couple that with Aspergers, (bipolar?) depression, and generalized anxiety disorder and NO ONE wants to take you on as a patient. I was very lucky to finally find several good doctors. 

When my primary care doctor recommended this psych doctor, I trusted her and therefore trusted him by default. I guess I'm naive. I saw a man who had a kind face, was from back home, was Jewish (very rare where I live now), and somehow made me feel like I was safe. 

I never researched the man. The doctors I chose back home were chosen after extensive research; but for some reason, I didn't feel the need... I guess that's why he was such a good criminal.

Before I continue I do want to say that he was a good DOCTOR. He did everything he could to get me back onto the one mood stabilizer that had ever truly made a difference (and it has again). On a day when his office was closed due to a storm, I had a car accident and a panic attack... I called the office and left a message and he called me back within 30 minutes to check on me. When I experienced antisemitism, he did everything he could to help me understand that it had nothing to do with me. 

I guess it's because he was a good DOCTOR, that I chose not to include his name... although his crimes are public record.

On Black Friday, the world as I knew it changed. I called the pharmacy to see why my prescriptions hadn't been filled and they told me they didn't know where my doctor was. I became increasingly agitated because they wouldn't elaborate; they just said they weren't sure if he was still practicing medicine. I thought he was just closed for the Thanksgiving weekend... if only I knew. 

I went to the pharmacy to get an emergency supply of medication and, upon attempting an apology for my agitation, the pharmacist told me that he assumed I knew my doctor was going to jail for insurance and medicaid fraud. Not only was I shocked; I was angry. 

I was mad that for over a month my doctor had been in legal trouble and that no one had told me. I was mad that the pharmacist just dropped the news on me like he was telling me the day of the week. I was horrified that I had trusted this man... and upon doing research, I was horrified that he was even still practicing when I began seeing him, since he was a fugitive from the law, hiding in Europe, during the early to late 90s FOR THE SAME CRIME!

Right now, I want one thing. I want to be able to look him in the eye and say this, but that's not possible, so this will have to do:

I thought you were a good man; a decent man; someone I could trust. I was WRONG! You were not worthy of my trust. Yes, you helped me but while doing so you also defrauded me. You claimed that my insurance wouldn't cover my visits even though I had an authorization number from the insurance company for 12 visits a year. My parents and I trusted you and they paid you because you were helping me. They didn't care how much it was because I was getting the help I needed... but you betrayed me. I told you the day I met you; when I was shaking, ringing my hands, unable to look you in the eye; that I have a hard time trusting people. You took the trust I had and you abused it. I don't care anymore that you helped me. You are a HORRIBLE person. You deserve every bit of punishment you have coming to you. You should NEVER be allowed to work in the medical field again! Your patients will prove to be far better people than you were.    

Out with the Old... and In with the New!

I’ve always approached new things with trepidation. Will I be good enough? Will people be nice to me? Will I feel safe and comfortable? Those are just three of the endless number of questions that race through my mind when I am faced with change.

This past week has been no different. I took a huge leap of faith. I left the pizzeria that I’ve been working at for over a year, in favor of a job at a nicer, more upscale restaurant. As important as it was for me to do this, it was also a decision that did not come easy. I’ve been “attempting to leave” the pizzeria for about four months, but it’s hard for me to leave the known for the unknown. Fortunately, I finally shut my brain up long enough to listen to my heart.

So giving notice and preparing to leave the predictable was done... but the hard parts were still to come. There’s always the question of “do I tell my co-workers about my Aspergers?” Of course management knows; but is it something I’m ready and willing to share?  There’s also the question of presentation; that is, “how do I present myself?” I know I’m an uptight worker who wants to do everything perfectly... but I also know that the personality I just described is the cause of 99% of the problems I have with my co-workers. Is it possible for me to start anew at this new job and not show the side of myself that’s anal-retentive? If I am able to conceal that part of myself and people want to become friendly, how do I do that? How do I go about fitting in? So many questions flooded my mind and I hadn’t even gotten to job related questions yet.

I am pleasantly surprised to say: not only did my first two days go better than expected; I have not one bad thing to report. I found myself in an amazing environment. At first things were a bit difficult. I didn’t quite understand all of what my trainer was saying. I took some of it too literally... as usual... but after explaining that I have Aspergers, she immediately changed her approach. As it turns out, she has two brothers on the spectrum as well. Not only is she incredibly sensitive to my situation and my needs; she made sure that I knew that if ANYONE gave me a hard time I was to let her know immediately because she would not tolerate it. Other than my mom, I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.

Another long-time employee was standing near us when I told her about my Aspergers. He attempted to be helpful (he really did) by taking it to management and asking whether we should disclose to the entire staff. Thankfully I had the courage to speak up and say that I had intended on telling the three hostesses I’d be working with on a daily basis and leaving it with that unless it became necessary to disclose to others. It was a much smoother conversation than any others I’ve had on the topic.

Another thing that made my time so special was meeting a woman named Ashley. This woman is on the spectrum and eats at the restaurant every day. She often sits for hours, drawing pictures for the staff, chatting, entertaining herself... but what really surprised and inspired me was when I was told that Ashley sometimes works for the restaurant. Any company that will take someone with needs like hers under their wing is a company I want to be a part of.

My 24th Birthday (only 2 months late)

It may seem strange, what I chose to do for my 24^th birthday, but then again; if you read my blog, you already know to expect the unexpected. My mom came to visit me for my birthday and we planned a trip to San Antonio. Let me preface this post by saying that I have never had more than a sip of wine and my 21^st birthday party was 100% dry. That said, the “typical” birthday celebrations don’t necessarily apply to me.

After spending the previous year alone on my birthday, my mom was determined to make this one great. I would NOT be cooking my own cake. I would NOT be eating a personal pan pizza all alone in my apartment. I WOULD be doing something exciting with my mom.

We went back and forth for awhile about what to do. My mom loves amusement parks (I do too, but I don’t ride thrill rides and she loves them) so we considered going to Six Flags. Well... let’s just say I went through a period of obsession with investigating amusement park accidents and a LARGE number of them took place in Texas. Add that to the large number of rides in the park that I wouldn’t be able to ride and Six Flags was out.

The next thought was one that a part of me still wishes we had gone with. There is a park called Morgan’s Wonderland that was created for guests with special needs. They provide free admission to guests with special needs and very reasonably priced admission for everyone else. They have done amazing things to accommodate their guests. Each guest receives a GPS Adventure Band with an RFID chip in it. This band can be used to capture memories and photos, but can also easily be used to locate members of your group. Food and drink can be brought into the park, so those with allergies, special diets, and food sensitivities can know they won’t go hungry. What really caught my eye was the Sensory Village. Specially designed with Autistic kids in mind, the sensory village would have been really cool to see. Unfortunately, when I called the park, they told me that I was probably too high functioning to really enjoy myself. I wish I hadn’t taken their word for it. I wish I had gone, even for just an hour, so I could have seen it for myself.

After that, other ideas were tossed around. We discussed going to the River Walk, but I was concerned about the number of people in such a small space and that I would not be happy there. We thought about going to a “wildlife ranch” but it was a drive thru and my mom made a good point when she said that I’d want to stop the car and watch the animals while those behind us would be blaring their horns.

Finally we decided. For my 24^th birthday, I wanted to go to the San Antonio Zoo and Sea World.

I knew there would be a lot of people and it wouldn’t be the most comfortable experience I’d ever had, but I was so excited, it almost didn’t matter... ALMOST.

Sure, I’d been to amusement parks before without major issues. We love Disney! But thinking back on our trips, something about Disney has always been different. I’ve described it before like I was watching myself do things and that’s kind of how my trips to Disney were. When it got crowded, I would escape and somehow that worked for me. It must be the magic of Disney. You hear all the time of kids with Autism who act like a different person the minute they set foot on Disney property. As for previous trips to other amusement parks, I almost always enjoyed myself on the rides, but found myself very self-consciously moving through the lines, making sure that I never accidentally brushed up against someone else or got too close to anyone. If I saw a crowded line, I would tell whomever I was with that we could come back to the ride. More often than not, they said it would be worth the wait and I was stuck waiting, but although I never expressed my feelings out loud, the truth is, crowds and I have never mixed well.

The morning of our trip finally arrived. Mom and I got in the car early in the morning, set the radio to Greg Bell’s Radio Classics, and within about ten minutes, I was out cold. Poor mom drove the entire way with me sleeping (and never complained once. THANKS MOM!) When we got to the zoo, I was in awe. There was so much to see and we hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot yet. I love photography so I was taking pictures of trees and bridges and signs and wasn’t even worried about getting into the actual zoo.

When we did get into the zoo, we immediately realized that we’d picked a great time to go. It wasn’t too crowded and I’d just be able to enjoy. And I did enjoy myself. My mom said that there’s nothing like going to the zoo with me. I studied each monkey, lemur, orangutan, and tamarin. I took pictures of everything and every animal. I gleefully went from habitat to habitat, spouting off little known facts about each animal, explaining why that animal enthralled me, and attempting to build a connection with the animal. I was able to connect with some; I coaxed some out of hiding and some even posed for me. I never pushed and never rushed them. I waited for them to come to me. Although we left the zoo exhausted and dripping with sweat, it was an amazing experience and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

The next morning, I was 24 years old and my mom and I were on a shuttle headed to Sea World.

When I was just a little girl, my parents had taken my brother and I to Sea World in Florida. The park is literally in my aunt and uncle’s backyard. They didn’t come to the park with us, but we were going to see them afterwards. My Auntie Rozie was an amazing cook. That day, my mom and dad had let my brother and I eat popcorn for lunch. “Don’t tell Auntie” they told us.

...Well, we got into the car and I opened up my little mouth and said “Auntie Auntie, guess what we had for lunch!? Popcorn!”

Having lost my aunt since moving to Texas, I was a bit emotional about going to Sea World. In the shuttle, mom and I re-enacted the story, laughing as we went. Once we pulled up, I was too awestruck to be worried about my emotions.

I’d like to say I dealt with the crowds in a fantastic manner and overcame my Aspergers... but come on, this is reality. We got our tickets easily. We were at the beginning of the line of people to go into the park. My troubles began when a woman decided to form her own line where one didn’t exist. I was going out of my mind. I know it had nothing to do with me, but she was talking very loudly and she was wrong and I just couldn’t stop myself from commenting. Luckily, being me, I commented to my mom and no one else.

Then, we learned that the maps they had just given us were incorrect and there would be a stand when we got into the park with the correct maps on them. There was absolutely no way I could head towards the mosh pit that stand would undoubtedly become, so I didn’t. Mom went to the stand and I went to the flamingos. Being as quiet and unthreatening as ever, they began to come over to me and let me take their pictures. Mom got into the next big throng of people, waiting to go to one of the theatres, and I happily stayed with the flamingos. I stayed with them until people started invading. I know it’s a public place and I know that’s what the exhibit is there for, but the people were clearly making the flamingos uncomfortable. Much like the previous day at the zoo when I would stay after other visitors had moved on, I noticed a change in the behavior of the animals from the time when I was there alone to the time when these people all crowded around and started making noise. Feeling as uncomfortable as the flamingos, I went to find my mom.

After listening to (and impromptu signing) the national anthem, the park was opened and we were on our way to the first show. We knew it would be busy, so we found an end where I could be, so I didn’t have to sit next to a stranger, and we spread out a little bit so that I didn’t feel claustrophobic. My mom and I both had a terrific time at the show. I took tons of pictures. It was a great start to our day. The thing I didn’t count on was the exit. Mom tried to get me out of the theatre before everyone started pouring out, but it didn’t quite work and I was stuck feeling very claustrophobic, cupping my hands around my eyes to give myself tunnel vision so I didn’t see as many people, and struggling to get out. I never thought I would admit this, but if that’s what it took to be able to enjoy the show, I’d do it again.

And so it went. We went from show to show; our strategy tightening each time. Before the final show of the day, I needed food so mom had me go stand at the entrance while she got something to eat. Thinking back, either way we had done this, it would have had the same result. I was okay at the beginning. There weren’t too many people and I was at the front of the line. Then, all at once, it was packed. There was no line, only a mob of people jostling each other. I stood there with my arms drawn in tightly and just tried to stay calm. When my mom finally got to me, she thanked a woman behind me. I had no idea, but a stranger had noticed through my body language that something was wrong and had used her own body as a barrier to keep people away from me. I don’t know the stranger’s name, but I am very grateful to her. Once my mom joined me, I got the attention of a security guard (which I’d been trying to do the whole time without success) and he let us stand on the other side of the gate so that I wasn’t stuck in the mob. I didn’t handle it in a fantastic manner, but looking back, I’m proud of myself.

Our last stop of the day was the dolphins. I had wanted to save them for the end because I wanted them to be the last thing on my mind when I left. Mom and I caught the very last training session of the day and I stayed around afterwards taking photos and observing. One dolphin in particular did connect with me. He kept swimming over to me, even though I didn’t have any fish to give him. He posed for my camera; time after time. I firmly believe that dolphin understood (the autistic mind).

Oh, and as for something special to remember my Auntie Rozie:

Mom and I played one of the boardwalk games and I won a pink orca that I named Rosie. 

For The Love Of Animals

I’ve always loved animals. Not always in the conventional way... When I was younger, I was terrified of dogs. I loved to look at them, I just didn’t want them jumping all over me or trying to lick my face.

I was fascinated by animals. What did they think about? How did they see the world? Did a dog know he was being laughed at when his owner taught him a new trick? Did he feel sad? Did the cat curled up at the foot of the cradle where the newborn baby slept know that she guarding a new life or was she just napping?

Of all animals, I fell in love with monkeys, horses, and dolphins. I’ll start with horses because it’s the easiest to explain. It’s relatively “normal” behavior for a young girl to desire a horse of her own. I was no exception. I wanted a horse. I wanted to ride. I wanted it all... but I had to choose between dance and riding and having danced all my life, riding never stood a chance. Instead I studied horses. I collected books from the local second hand book shop on horse anatomy, how they move, how they live, how to draw horses... I collected fictional books, like The Saddle Club series and of course watched the Canadian television series of the books. I was addicted to the television show Wildfire; even participated in the crazy plans to save the show after it was canceled.

Screen capture from the pilot episode of Wildfire

In school, I did a project on equestrian therapy and decided that someday I would do that. We had to do a financial assignment where we “purchased” real estate and explained how we could justify the expenditures. Mine was simple: I chose a large ranch out in California. It had stables, a guest house; everything I would need to start my own therapy ranch. I got an A on the project, but the comment left was “a great idea but where’s this money coming from?”

I dreamed of riding. In my imaginary world, I rode all the time. It was amazing. That said, my imagination was nowhere near the real thing. I’d done pony rides before. At camp, I was so small that when the rest of my group got too big to ride Midnight (the camp pony), I got to spend all my time with her. I’d also led horse rides before. I worked an apple festival with a friend of mine and we each led horses around a ring as young children rode atop them. I loved interacting with the horses, but I wasn’t riding. Finally my time came.

I’d been begging my dad for years to go, just the two of us, on a father-daughter vacation to the country. We’d go riding, look at the stars, have a picnic... I just knew that if we went, it would be perfect. We finally went in the summer of 2006. I was 15 years old, about to turn 16. Our trip was, in one word, amazing.

In my own words “riding a horse is nature’s Zoloft”. It’s true. It releases serotonin to the brain, allowing even the most depressed person to feel happiness. Sure, my dad and I did other things on the trip. We went to a waterfall and climbed all the way to the top, we drove for two hours without finding a restaurant, we saw Chicago live onstage... but NOTHING beat that trail ride. I got to share one of my favorite firsts with my dad and that is something I’ll treasure forever.

I’ve gone riding since, but every time I go, I think back to that first time. I think back to Aurora, me, dad, and Connecticut. I think back and I smile.

Next we have monkeys. I’ve always felt a special connection to monkeys. My very first trip to the Boston Science Museum cemented that connection. Upon entering the Cotton-Top Tamarin exhibit, I was fascinated and didn’t want to leave. If left to my own devices, I would have spent hours in that room watching the tamarins and learning. My grandmother took us to the science museum a lot growing up. I’d regale her with the story of the tamarins and why one was missing its tail. I’d tell her about their lives in the wild and how their lives had changed and stayed the same since being placed in captivity. I’d sometimes draw a crowd of listeners. It was funny really; fully grown adults hanging on my every word as though I worked there, when in reality I just loved the exhibit.

Any time we went to the zoo, I immediately wanted to go see the monkeys. I loved them all. I studied them. I watched their movements. They were careful. They seemed timid at times, especially the gorillas. If I stayed long enough, they’d start to relax... even let me take pictures. They were like me... uncomfortable when people were staring at them and causing a ruckus but content when left to their own devices. As I explained to my mom: “it’s like they have Aspergers too”.

I stood and watched. I talked in a soothing voice, made soft noises, and waited for them to come to me. Nine times out of ten, they did.

I always wanted a monkey of my own. Monkeys are the only animal in the known universe that can communicate with humans. I sign, monkeys can learn to sign. I was always fascinated by that capability. I wanted to put it to the test myself. See how a monkey acquires language. I know I’ll never be able to do that... but it’s still nice to dream.

Finally there are the dolphins. Dolphins are the most intelligent of creatures. As much as I see myself in a monkey, I also see myself in a dolphin. Dolphins are intelligent but shy. They strive to reach great heights and keep trying no matter what. There’s actually research going on that’s discovering that children with Autism and dolphins communicate in very much the same way.

The research shows that dolphins and high functioning Autistics (read Aspies) possess “intuitive genius”. The (amount of) cycle of brain waves in Aspie children and dolphins is equal; both lie in the “intuitive genius” range. According to the research: “At such a high mental processing level, dolphins and autistic children have the ability to pierce space and time and communicate through what is known as “thought transference”. In a split second, they can feel and read a person’s energy and respond.” (Jean Genet)

So why am I talking about animals? You’ll find out tomorrow.

One Amazing Woman

It’s been awhile since my last entry. I guess you could say my need for routine has loosened a bit... I still jot notes down every night but I no longer need to publish a complete blog post before going to sleep. That said, I am pleased that there are some changes happening in my life that will allow me more time to write again. I still feel that this blog is important, not just to me, but to someone who will someday read it and use it as a resource, either to understand the mind of their child or to understand themselves.

I stopped my daily writing in September, when my mom came for a visit. I was so excited for her arrival. A lot of girls say it, but my mom is truly my best friend. We have a closer relationship than most mothers and daughters do. We had the same extracurricular activity for 20 years. We spent night after night at the studio together. We had rituals like Tuesday night dinners at Friendly’s before dance and cookies at the bakery on Saturdays between classes. At home, my mom would call me into the family room and FORCE me to practice my dances... but I always knew them and that always made me feel good about myself.

But it wasn’t just dance. My mom is simply awesome! She knows from my voice when something is wrong, she always knows how to make everything okay, and she’s the only one who can calm me down when I am panicking. She knows just how to make me laugh and when to be serious. Sure, we fight. Every mother and daughter do... But I wouldn’t know what to do without her.

The day of mom’s arrival I was on cloud 9. I got to work and was dancing around the store telling everyone who would listen that my mom was coming. All day, I kept peeking towards the front of the store, waiting for that familiar face to come through that door. Of course, nothing is like it is in the movies. My mom came in while I was with a customer and rather than running to greet her as I had intended, I instead had to settle for a tiny wave and 15 excruciating minutes of a customer asking inane questions about every item on the shelf in front of them.

FINALLY the customer decided to leave, of course empty handed, and I was free to go give my mom a hug.  This showing of affection surprised my co-workers who know me as the “please don’t touch me” girl. (We have a customer who comes in regularly and gives me a hug every time he sees me. After explaining about my Aspergers 6 or 7 times, I finally decided to just grin and bear it and awkwardly stand there until he lets go.) I’ve always been able to show affection towards my family members and have never had an issue with physical contact when it came to family (except with my Nana, who said I didn’t kiss her like I meant it... I was just putting my lips to her face... but I don’t know if that was an Aspie thing or not), but I can see where my co-workers shock stemmed from.

What happened next truly surprised me. My coworkers figured out a way that I could leave for the day and spend more time with my mom. They took care of everything. They got coverage, managerial permission, and sent us on our way. I had been excited for my mom to meet my team; the people who I was working WITH not beside... but they gave me a more momentous thing to celebrate: true friendship. It’s not co-workers who will go out of their way to make sure you get to spend time with your mom; it’s friends.

Creatures of Habit

A month ago, my mom came down to Texas for a week-long visit. I love it when she comes but it’s also stressful in a weird way. I spend days cleaning my apartment, trying to make it look respectable for her, but never quite get there. I finally admitted something to her that I only recently admitted to myself. I keep my apartment messy on purpose. I hate always feeling alone and if I keep my apartment messy and full, I can pretend that I have someone else living there, they’re just never home when I am. It sounds crazy but it makes me feel like I’m not alone. While she reiterated that there are better ways to pretend someone else is living there, she began to show signs of understanding. It’s not that I don’t try to clean up; there’s something in my brain that’s fundamentally against it. I’m not a hoarder by definition, but I keep things around (that could be thrown away) simply because I like the feeling I get when my apartment looks “lived in”.

The other stressful thing about my mom (or anyone from home) coming for a visit is my unending desire to prove that I’m making it on my own. I want to show her that I keep a well stocked kitchen (complete with healthy options), that I properly ration out my money, that I am thoughtful in making decisions, and that I can take care of myself. Of course, it’s very easy to revert back to my old ways when my mommy is back by my side.

After putting off going to an adult ballet class at the local civic ballet since the day I moved here in January of 2013, I asked my mom if she would go with me. I didn’t want her to know that I was scared, so I called her up with a simple request. I told her that the most important day of my life had happened when I was just two years old and I had no memory of it. I then asked her if she would take me to my first ballet class (as a 24 year old) and give me a memory to hold onto. Of course she said yes. I think she knew that I was frightened to go alone; she was just too considerate of my feelings to say anything.

The day of the ballet class was insane. I was running around my apartment trying different hair styles and outfits, trying to make myself look like a “betty bunhead” when I’ve always been a “tip top tapper”. I wanted so badly to fit in with the image I had in my head of what the other girls would be like. Mom wasn’t worried in the least, but I made her go a whole hour before class started, so we could warm up and I could size-up the place.

Of course being me, I had some interesting thoughts during the class that didn’t go through a filter (because I don’t have one) and instead came right out my mouth. I kept talking about how much I hated the floor in the studio because I was used to turning on hardwood and we were using floors with marley (for the girls who were en pointe). I asked way too many questions and steered the group off topic several times. At one point, I even made a nasty comment that no one seemed to understand that I weighed (AND I ACTUALLY SAID MY WEIGHT OUT LOUD)! I had planned on talking to the teacher at the end of the class so that he understood about my Aspergers, but as mommies always do, mine was worried and pulled me aside, asking if it would be okay to tell him. Actually, it was more a discussion of it being unfair not to tell him... but either way, the point is, I had evolved to the level where I was going to disclose about my Aspergers on my own, but with my mom around, I let her take over and do it for me.

Later in the week, we went to a movie and I saw firsthand how different things are now that I have my diagnosis. First and foremost I want to say that I am in NO WAY upset with my mother or wishing my mother had acted differently in ANY of the situations in this post. I am so glad she was here and miss her so much every day that she’s back home. That said, things have changed and I would be remiss to avoid the topic.

We went to see an R-rated movie on a weeknight. I go into a movie like that with certain expectations; the biggest one being that I will be in a theatre full of age-appropriate viewers. I was sitting with my mom in the theatre, creating my bubble of space around me, when the previews started. It was already dark when the people in front of us chose their seats. It looked like four adults and I had no reason to believe it wasn’t. The beginning of the movie was fine. About an hour in, the person in front of me began shaking. At first I thought she was having a seizure, but no one with her was worried, or even noticed what was happening. After my initial worries subsided, I became increasingly irritated. She began flinging herself against her chair-back, as hard as possible, then looking up at me and grinning (as if wondering to herself, “Is she mad yet?”). I held my tongue for about 40 minutes then finally asked her to stop because it was annoying. All of a sudden, everyone’s mad at me. Come to find out the woman who was banging into her chair was actually a kid and her mother was really angry that I got irritated and asked her to stop banging. When I realized it was a kid, I got so upset I was shaking and crying and couldn’t think of anything else. The mother was demanding an apology after the movie, but in my mind, I was afraid things would get worse once the lights were up.

That’s when mom stepped in. She told me to stay put and stay quiet. She went down and told the woman about my Aspergers, my lack of filter, my inability to properly modulate my tone of voice, and basically “got me out of trouble”... but something was still bothering me. After we got home and she explained to me how I could have better handled the situation, I was still wondering whether everything would have been different if I hadn’t had my diagnosis yet. I love my mom; she’s my best friend and I trust her more than anything, but I don’t know that I can believe her reply that she would have handled things the same way regardless of diagnosis. I feel like she would have been angry with me before we got the diagnosis and she certainly would have made me go apologize. I am so grateful to have a mom who wants to take care of me, but when you live on your own, halfway across the country from your family, you sort of need to sink or swim on your own.

I finally understand why my mom has been so against my desire to move back home and has firmly stated that if I return to the area, I need to maintain my own residence. We are creatures of habit. We resort back to the ways we’ve always done things. I’ve always relied on my mom. She’s always been the one to intervene. She doesn’t want me to lose all of the amazing gains I’ve had in the last year and a half just because we’re creatures of habit.

(I promise the next blog will have all the great memories from my mom's trip)

Time To Get Up and Try Again

So it’s been awhile. A lot of things have happened and every time I started to write, I wasn't sure where to begin or how to go about it. Should I write one horrifically long post that no one will ever finish or several shorter posts that will each be read, but that I will need to order, organize, and prioritize? I chose the later.

First, I want to explain where I went. I lost myself for a bit. I experienced a setback in my life that I couldn’t come to terms with; and when I finally could, I just wanted to forget about it. When I last posted, I wrote of an interview for a job that I really wanted (and honestly felt was mine to lose). Shortly thereafter, I found out that I didn’t get that job. It had nothing to do with my qualifications or my drive; but management didn’t feel that I was “mentally ready”. To me, their reasoning was a crushing blow. 

I’ve worked so hard to become the woman I am today. The “me” from a year ago would not recognize the “me” of today. I am self-reliant, self-assured (for the most part), sociable (or attempting to be), hard-working as always, still honest to a fault, and am gaining self-confidence almost every day. I worked hard to develop good relationships with my co-workers and to establish myself as a leader. Towards the end, I was seeing the fruits of my labor.

It became “MY TEAM... MY DEPARTMENT... MY GUYS” when I was talking. As I said to my general manager: “the department became my baby. I’ve been there the longest and had trained each and every one of the guys on the team. I feel more responsible for what happens in my department because I’ve been the model. When a guest comes back with a problem, I work hard to solve it and always apologize profusely and look for a way to gently remind my peers of a way to prevent the problem from happening again.”

That may not seem important to many people, but it’s a huge step for me. I’ve never had a team before. I’ve never truly been a part of a group that all worked together. Sure, at dance we did group dances, but the other girls always hung out outside of dance, and I was rarely invited. There was an age difference, my mom worked at the studio, and I was not yet versed in the rules of socializing. This job changed my life and gave me a once in a lifetime feeling. A feeling of not only being included, but feeling like a leader.

Losing the leadership job I’d applied for was a crushing blow because I’d been doing it. The person who’d previously held the position had been grooming me to take over, as requested by management. I felt like I’d been doing a great job. I took ownership, I was a leader, I was ready... but they didn’t see it that way. They said I’d made huge strides but that I wasn’t ready yet. They needed to see a longer history of this behavior.

I am ashamed to say I cried right there in the general manager’s office... sobbed actually. After being told I wasn’t mentally ready, I had a breakdown; proving that he was absolutely correct. That stung. I finally excused myself to the ladies room and called my mom; still bawling my eyes out. I told her that I hated myself. I called myself a failure. I think at one point I may have even said I hated having Aspergers (if I didn’t say it, I definitely thought it). She did her best to calm me down and told me that I should be thankful; that my manager was looking out for my best interests. That he wants me to succeed and he was afraid if I got promoted too early, I would fail.

Not believing a word of what I was saying, I went back to his office and reiterated my mother’s feelings. “First, I wanted to thank you for believing in me from the day you met me.” The conversation was long and sappy and since I didn’t believe in it at the time, I didn’t write any of it down for my blog past that first line... but I know I promised not to lose my dedication and to keep doing better.

On our general manager’s first day, he asked us all to write him an email introducing ourselves and talking about the things we loved and hated about working at the store. Below is my response (written on 10-30-13):I want to start by saying that I'm not your typical salesperson. Less than a year ago, I was diagnosed with Autism. Most people my age would use that as an excuse or crutch; a reason for not going after jobs that involve communication or social skills, but not me. I knew, after completing four years of Disabilities Studies in college, that it was late for me to begin receiving therapy for my Autism. Knowing this, I applied for and accepted three jobs that would put me into situations where I was least comfortable; approaching strangers, making small talk, listening to and understanding the needs of others, recognizing when I'm misunderstanding or being misunderstood... all of these things were encompassed in the two retail jobs and one restaurant job I took. 

What I love about my job here are the strides I've made in my communication skills and confidence levels since I started. The four days of sales induction literally changed my life. I learned for the first time how to properly communicate. The role playing conversations that were so foreign and uncomfortable to me on day one were simple by day four. Since returning from my induction, I have flourished. I've received customer compliments and both my family and friends have noticed a vast difference in my communication and socialization skills. 

What I dislike about my job, specifically about working in the cellular phone department, is that my department is like one big clique that I'm not a part of. Even new employees in other departments have noticed that I never seem to be accepted by my direct co-workers. I always feel left out and while I know that work isn't about socializing, it's difficult to work with people who don't seem to like you. Within days, it seems like they've either accepted a newcomer or they've exiled them. Those that are exiled typically don't stick around for very long. I was the exception, but it's getting harder and harder. I feel like I'm always walking on eggshells just to keep things civil with my co-workers, but they sit and joke, laugh, go out to dinner, and all sorts of things all the time. I hope that can change! I vastly appreciate your dedication to Employee Rapport.

Thank you for taking the time to ask us how we feel. I look forward to getting to know you.

Now go back and read the comments I made about my computers team. Look at the amazing growth that occurred in just 11 months. Am I still upset that I didn’t get the job? Of course I am. I felt like I deserved it. That said, it’s time to get up and try again.

Do You Believe?

My head is spinning right now and I’m going to do my best to make this post make sense.

I went to the movie theatre today to see Step Up. To my surprise, after buying my ticket and snacks, I learned that the movie times I had viewed were incorrect and I had to choose a different movie. I decided to see If I Stay.

Usually I watch those kinds of movies in the privacy of my apartment. I never know quite how I’m going to react and am typically too shy to show my reactions in public. For some reason, today I went anyways.

I don’t usually discuss the goings on in my head, particularly when it comes to thoughts of life and death, because I brought them up several times to different therapists when I was young and was told that children shouldn’t think of those things. I don’t know whether other people contemplate the world in the same way that I do or not, but I’m going to put it out there, and if you think I’m nuts, so be it.

One of the first thoughts I had when I was little (at least one of the first thoughts that I could remember) was that we were all parts of someone else’s story. I wondered if we were characters in a giant videogame or if we were playing roles in a movie. It seemed like we had free will, but what if someone else was calling all the shots? After all, we’ve all done things we swore we’d never do.

When I was about 3 years old, my grandfather and my great grandfather both passed away. I didn’t fully grasp it at the time, but I had some ideas of what death was. I used to go out into the driveway and blow bubbles up towards the sky. I’d try to get the bubbles all the way to heaven so that my grandfather and great grandfather would have something to play with while they waited for more family members to join them. I thought of heaven as most television portrayals: a castle of clouds and everything you dream of (except your loved ones)... And in my mind, I saw my family members being given the ability to come back to earth to watch over us and love us. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but I believed the spirits lingered.

As I got older, I contemplated what you feel when you die. Is it like going to sleep? Is there something after or is there nothing? Is it like being in a sensory deprivation chamber for all of eternity or is heaven real? It took me a long time to realize that the only people who knew those answers were people who could never answer them. I had to choose what I believed in and have confidence in my choice. With my massive phobia of death, I had to choose the belief that would ease my mind as much as humanly possible.

I chose to believe in spirits and signs and the ability to communicate without actually talking to someone. When I was a junior in high school, my great grandmother got very sick. I wasn’t allowed to see her, because it was too risky. I could have gotten very sick because of my auto-immune disease. She was my hero; my everything. I loved her to infinity and back. The day she passed away, I had a bad feeling. I was at the hospital she was at and I begged my mom to let me go see her. When all my pleas failed, I went to the restroom and attempted to communicate with her telepathically (no, I don’t believe in telepathy per say, but I do believe that if you try hard enough to tell someone that you love something important, the message gets through). I stomped on the floor to get her attention, and I told her how much I loved her. I told her how much I wanted to be by her side, holding her hand and giving her hugs, but that I couldn’t be. I told her she would always be my hero... then I wiped my tears, washed my face, and went home. Today I know that what happened was for the best. It was better for me to tell her all this while imagining the healthy woman I knew than to tell her while looking at her wasting away in a hospital bed on her final day.

That night, we got the call and my world stopped. I began to doubt everything I ever thought about life and death. I began to wonder if heaven was real and I was so afraid that I would lose her forever. I did something that night that I thought I would never do. With my mom and grandmother by my side, I went to say goodbye to my great grandmother.

I never told anyone this before, but when I touched her cheek and felt the coldness, I knew that in some way, I was right. Her soul wasn’t in that body. I was touching a shell... she was still out there; and she still is today. When it was time for her funeral, we did something that no one is supposed to do in our religion: we sent her to heaven with everything she would need. I gave her a picture from my junior prom and set of power beads (I have one for each of my grandparents and one for myself), we tucked her in with a blanket, put on her reading glasses, gave her a book and a nightlight... everyone in our family put something in. My little cousin put in her pink baby; a doll that had gone everywhere with her since the day she was born. I don’t think I need any more confirmation that there’s a heaven.

That being said, confirmations still come. Signs come to me in all shapes and sizes. I had a friend in high school who was diagnosed with cancer. He was eccentric and fun and definitely one of a kind. The day he passed on, three long years after his fight began, it snowed. It was 43 degrees outside. I simply smiled. I knew he was letting me know that he was okay... moreover, I was imagining all the havoc he was undoubtedly reeking on heaven and how much zanier heaven would be with him in it. Ever since, any time I need to know something (good or bad), something zany happens with the weather. I’ve had it be torrentially downpouring on one side of the building and sunny on the other, I’ve experienced streets so flooded that my car practically floated down them, and so much more. And of course, it rains like crazy every year on his birthday.

My first day back at work after Carol passed was incredibly hard for me; but somehow, she kept letting me know that she was there. My first guest of the day was named Carol. Another one of my guests was from Hicksville, New York (where she lived). Another guest came in with his dog. I’ve never liked dogs, but the last time I was with Carol, her dog was with us. This dog stopped in her tracks and stared at me, wagging her tail. Finally her owner told me that she wouldn’t move on until I acknowledged her. After petting the dog, I began to tear up. I had received three signs from Carol that day.

Last week was difficult for me. The one year anniversary of Don’s passing was on August 21. I was already emotional due to the number of ALS Ice Bucket Challenge videos out there and was feeling sad that all this awareness didn’t exist last year when he was still alive. Even though I was emotional, my day had to go on. When I got to work, my first customer of the day was named Don. His son kept trying to do a duck voice (something my dad does VERY well). Later that day, I met a man (another guest) who needed to take a call during our interaction. I heard him say he was going on an ice run and thought nothing of it. We get a lot of truck drivers at our store... BUT THEN he told me that his brother has ALS and that no less than 300 people were getting together to do a giant ice bucket challenge that afternoon. I started to cry. I showed him a picture of Don and told him just how amazing I thought it was that he was going to do something so big; he just gave me a hug (and surprisingly, I let him).

On Friday, I had an interview for a job promotion that I’ve wanted for a very long time. Something I always admired about Carol was how dedicated she was to her job. I wanted a job that I would love as much as she loved hers. Due to my Aspergers and anxiety, I never have an easy time with interviews, but it’s even harder when it’s a job I’ve been dreaming about for months. After my interview, I was feeling down, as I always am after attempting to do something (like an audition or job interview)... I guess I feel like if I don’t expect anything good to happen, I won’t be let down when it doesn’t. Anyways, after my interview, I went back out on the floor and was approached by a lovely woman. She had just gotten out of the hospital after having a very severe infection which led to severe memory loss. She had been in the store the day before and had purchased an ipad, but needed help setting it up and accessing her passwords. After a short time of helping her, I needed to look up her information. Something had drawn me to her from the moment I saw her, but I didn’t know what it was. Upon entering her telephone number into my computer, I learned that her name was Carol and she lived on Susan road (my mom’s name is Susan and Carol was her friend and co-worker first). Carol then told me that her husband’s name was John (same as my Carol). I pulled out my phone and showed her the background photo, a picture of Carol and I from my graduation. She told me that I should call Carol up and tell her I’d met the Carol of the future (and of Texas). I told her I wished I could. I continued on to tell her that Carol had passed earlier this year but that she makes sure to send me lots of angels.

So, where did all of this come from? I guess the movie got me thinking. I’ve been writing this entry for hours, ever since I got back from the movie... I was even drafting it in my head during some of the scenes. For once, everything just clicked and I realized that yes, I fully believe in the theories I’ve spent most of my life developing and believing in. Heaven is real, angels are real, souls never leave, and signs are certainly real.

I believe.

Overcoming (Seemingly Impossible) Obstacles

Overcoming The Seemingly Impossible

Phobia No More!

Everyone has things that they're afraid of. Some are rational, like heights or death... some are irrational (like my phobia of blue cheese... it's MOLD people!)... some are common, like arachnophobia... and some are made up, like escalaphobia: the fear of escalators (yes, I created that one too). 

I don't know how "Normies" deal with their fears, but I know that for me, a person with Aspergers, each fear seems impossible to conquer. 

This past week, I cannot explain how, but I faced more than one of my fears head on. I am terrified of standing up for myself, but I did. I hate putting everything out there for people to see and judge, but I interviewed for a promotion that I really want anyways. And I'm paralyzingly afraid of heights, but today, I somehow overcame that.

At my job at the pizzeria, the boss I've previously referred to as Harry, has been making me feel badly for some time now. I'll be doing my job, stop for two seconds to breathe, and be reprimanded for not working hard enough. I'll be standing at my cash register minding my own business, when a waitress comes up to ask me something, and Harry makes a snarky remark like "are we having a slumber party and doing each other's make-up and hair?" 

The other night, I hit a breaking point. My cash register wasn't working and I was counting out change to my customers instead of just reading the change amount off the register. One of my customers had his young son with him. His son was looking at me with an interested look on his face as I was counting out the change. I smiled at him and said "this is why little boys and girls need to go to math class". I was shocked and humiliated when Harry retorted: "You didn't count that fast. I wouldn't be too proud of that if I were you!" in front of my customer!  

I was ready to walk out, but I'd promised my mom that I wouldn't quit... so I stayed. I didn't say anything to him, but I did seek comforting advice from a friend and co-worker. The following day, I didn't want to go to work. I was still really mad and embarrassed and confused. I decided to go and just keep my distance from Harry. 

That worked for a good portion of the night... Unfortunately, another one of my irrational fears had to mess everything up. I was pouring some blue cheese dressing into a container for a customer and was having trouble getting it out. One of my managers told me to shake the container and the other told me to refill it. Being irrationally afraid and grossed out by blue cheese, I chose to listen to the one who suggested I shake it. Unfortunately, the other manager got very angry very fast and cussed me out. I asked what I did wrong and she remarked that it "wasn't rocket science"... and she was the one I sought solace from the night before. 

I forced myself through my next two customers then took off for the back of the restaurant in tears. She did come over and talk to me, but I admitted to her that about 95% of the tears were about Harry, not her. She didn't want me to talk to him, but somehow I was bound and determined. I was going to find out why he said what he said no matter what. 

I calmly approached Harry and asked him about his comment from the previous night. He didn't understand why I hadn't asked then and he didn't understand why I took it so seriously (even though I've explained the literalism that comes with Aspergers at least 10 different times to him), but he did apologize, something I never thought I'd hear. He told me that he was glad I didn't just quit, because that wouldn't have solved anything... and he told me if he didn't think I was smart, he wouldn't let me work the cash register. 

He went on to say that (in answer to my question) if he was getting a tax break for having me in his employ, it was due to an answer I gave on an onboarding form and that he doesn't see me that way. He said that he didn't see an issue with collecting the refund, but that I was plenty hireable without it. He also put to rest my fears that I had been forced on him by an employee who no longer worked for the company. One of the managers had taken pity on me when I lost my job and within a day, had gotten me a job offer at the pizzeria. When she was later fired for stealing, I noticed Harry's attitude towards me start to change and became very concerned that he'd only hired me because she asked him to and that with her gone, he wanted me gone too. 

As hard as it was for me to have this conversation, I NEEDED to do this. It had been building for months and it was time to put everything to rest!

In other BIG news, I conquered my fear of heights today. I have never been able to climb the ladder at the electronics store I work at. I climbed it once and froze, unable to move up or down, scaring my guest (who was in the military and offered to climb up to get me, but couldn't because it's against company policy for a customer to use the ladder). After that incident, it was determined that I would not attempt to climb the ladder again. 

I have NO idea why, but tonight while I was working, I climbed the ladder three separate times. I was clinging to the railings for dear life and stepped down like a toddler just learning to walk, but I did it! At this point, I just pray it gets easier!

Sending out good vibes to all of you; hoping you can share some amazing stories of overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles as well!

Hard to Say Goodbye

It's been awhile since I've written. I've been on an emotional roller coaster and haven't been able to express myself the way I wanted to. With me, emotions are a very difficult thing. If there is something going on in my life that is causing anxiety, stress, depression, etc. I get physically ill. I am plagued with chronic migraines and, although I know I am my own worst enemy, I cannot always stop them from appearing.

I recently had a migraine that landed me in the hospital. It was the first time I'd ever truly gone to the hospital alone. I put on a brave face, took my hospital bear with me, advocated for myself and told the doctors and nurses exactly what I needed; but I was petrified.

My bear is on the right. The dog on the left is one of the bears I made for the kids in the pediatric ward of the New York hospital I had stayed in during my college years. I loved playing Santa and bringing stuffed animals to all the kids.

When I was growing up, I always had my mom or my grandfather at the hospital with me. When I got to college, Carol became my hospital buddy. For a short time, she was joined by a boyfriend of mine, but SHE was the one I relied on. 

After calling my mom to let her know I was going to the hospital, it dawned on me that I wouldn't have either of them. Luckily a friend from my community was able to drive me to the ER, but for the first time in my life, I walked in alone. 

I do have to say that everyone was very nice and that once I explained about the Aspergers, they knew how to act regarding my treatment. There were some miscommunications; like when I asked the nurse if she could get an IV nurse (I have bad veins) and her response was that everyone knows how to do IVs... I think I offended her, but after she got me on the first stick, I told her she was my new best friend. 

As weird as it sounds, getting through an entire hospital visit alone was a huge accomplishment for me. Of course, at one point, whether it was wishful thinking or the pain medication, I did think Carol was in the room with me, but the bottom line is, I made it alone. 

But the thing is... sometimes I don't want to be alone.

Before I even moved here, my mom was concerned about me. How was I going to get along in a place where I knew no one when I have such a difficult time with socializing? For the first time in my life, I had an answer to that question. During my brief 48 hour visit to the city I would eventually move to here in Texas, I met a girl (a co-worker) who I felt in my heart was going to become a good friend.

I'd never had such easy conversations before. I realized after the fact that the tour of the city, apartment search, and lunch were all a part of my interview, but somehow she made it seem so that 'stress-free. Any other time I would have been completely tongue tied, awkward, and shy (all while my brain was racing a mile a minute) but with this girl, I felt an openness. I knew I had found a friend.

And she was a great friend. At work, she was my mentor. She had the desk next to mine, introduced me to everyone, showed me around, taught me so much, and proved to be a friend outside of work as well. I quickly learned that we liked the same restaurants, had the same taste in movies, and that she had a heart of gold, something that's truly hard to find. 

When I lost my job, I was of course upset that my dream had been put on hold... but I was worried that losing my job would also mean losing my friend. I shouldn't have worried; for she gave me true friendship and no one had the power to ruin that.

A few months later I found myself working by her side again. I was ecstatic! After several months of not really fitting in with my co-workers; here came my best friend (in Texas) ready to change everything. I went to work on her first day with a huge smile on my face. At the time we were in different departments, which my mom thought was good, because we would have been talking all the time and not working at all if we were together... which at the time was probably very true. Even still, something as little as catching her eye across the room made me smile. Her friendship means the world to me. 

As time went on, we began working in the same department and once again we made a great team. When she got promoted, I was thrilled for her. I told my mom I was lucky; after all, how many people get to work for their best friend? 

And I was lucky. She took me under her wing again. She let me know when I was miscommunicating or when I said something that she or someone else didn't like. She let me know when I had an expression on my face that wasn't welcoming and happy and always asked if I was okay, rather than just telling me to suck it up and put a smile on my face. She taught me how to be a leader, how to be a coach, and how to have a symbiotic relationship with my coworkers. 

...And now I have to say goodbye...

I'm absolutely thrilled for her. She is going back into working in the speech language pathology field. I know in my heart that's where she belongs. She's an amazing therapist and I'm so happy that she has the opportunity for a second chance at her dream. 

So why am I crying? As a good friend, I am supportive and happy and can't wait to hear how amazing her new job is... but it's hard for me to say goodbye.

She knows that when she first told me she might be moving, I called my mom and asked her if I could come home. I said that I had stayed in Texas because I had a friend and if my friend was leaving, I should too. That's not happening. 

I'm not saying any of this to make her sad. In fact, in a big way, she's still helping me grow. She showed me that I can make friends and now, with her moving away, I need to show her that her friendship and guidance has shown me how to make new friends. She will still be a huge part of my life. I am counting down the days to her wedding and am trying to figure out different ways for us to keep in touch... but what I'm discovering as I'm writing this is that her leaving is a challenge being extended to me: "show me what our friendship has done for you".

I won't say goodbye... I'll say: 

"Challenge Accepted"