Creating a New Me

Creating A New Me

Just over a year ago (a year and two months to be exact), I lost the job of my dreams. I was devastated. I had packed up everything I owned and moved to Texas and after barely getting started was already finished. I cried... I packed, unpacked, repacked, unpacked again... unable to decide whether or not to stay in Texas, a place where I had finally made friends of my own, or go home to my parents; to where I felt safe and didn't ever have to worry.

I chose Texas. I love my family more than anything and have offered multiple times to move back home, but the truth is, when I lived at home, I lived for others. Here in Texas, I'm finally living for me. 

So I had to make a plan. Money doesn't grow on trees, although as a kid I always liked to argue that case, as money was made of paper and paper grew on trees, so in a technical sense... well, you get the idea. 

It would have been easy to go to the local movie theatre and apply for a job at the box office. I had done that job back home for 6 years. It was comfortable, it was familiar, and it was safe... It also would have been the biggest mistake I ever made. I took a huge step moving out on my own and going back to the same old job would have been a regression that I may never have progressed back from.

So I gave myself a dare. I dared myself to put myself in an uncomfortable position for an entire year. I hoped that each day, things would become a little less uncomfortable, but I honestly had no idea. This dare may seem silly if you don't have Aspergers or have no experience with it, but to me, it was anything but silly.

I found myself two jobs which would require daily interaction with strangers. The first: a sales job. The second: a restaurant job. I didn't jump all the way into the deep end at once. The sales job I took was at one of my favorite stores and in one of my favorite topics, electronics and technology. The restaurant, or pizzeria that I work at, was one of my favorites growing up and continues to provide comfort to this day. Beyond those minor comforting attributes, I was about to embark on a journey that would create a new person... and I was terrified.

I'm incredibly lucky. The electronics store that I work for had a training program for all new employees, which to my greatest sadness, has been discontinued for the time being. This four day program taught me more about communicating effectively than 23 years of life taught me. The first night, I called my mom and told her that "things will never be the same". 

Upon returning from the training program, I set to work incorporating everything I learned into every interaction I had. Immediately I noticed my communication becoming easier and more effective. Sure, I still have a lot of miscommunications and I'll probably never understand sarcasm, but the things I'm doing today, I could never have done a year ago. 

I can approach a customer in the store (with only mild discomfort) and strike up a conversation. I'm getting back comments from my customers that I'm a good salesperson; that I take the time to understand their individualized needs and that I listen to them and effectively communicate why I'm recommending the solution that I recommend. Every one of these comments puts a grin on my face. 

As far as the restaurant, my mother always used to tell me that I would never be able to work in a restaurant... Not because of my inability to cook, although it is astonishing that the trait for bad cooking passes down through every female in our family, but because I take everything to heart and wouldn't be tough enough to withstand an upset customer or a complaint. 

Part of learning to communicate effectively was learning to show that you're listening and show that you understand there's a problem even if you don't agree with it. I listen to every problem, nodding when appropriate, smile and apologize when they're through, and attempt to fix the problem. I always thank the customer when I'm done. Again, a year ago, I would probably have run away crying the first time a customer complained. 

...So here I am... this new me. A me I hardly recognize when I look in the mirror. A me I hardly relate to (although I didn't relate to the old me much either). I'd like to say it's a better me. I hope others agree. Everyone's seen a change, my bosses, my co-workers, my friends, and my family. Even I see the change. It's only been a little over a year... I'm just getting started.

Follow Up to the 6-12 post: Last night, I saw the family I mentioned in my post on 6-12. The younger boy, who was having so much trouble last week and was sitting alone, was chatty as could be. He sat at the bar and just started talking to me. At one point, it was like looking in a mirror. He was asking me how much various things cost. I realized after a moment that the things he was asking about were all things on a sign we had out advertising a deal if they were purchased together. I looked up to see him doing the math in his head then held in my laughter as he said, "so you save a dollar and thirty cents. You can save that at the grocery store" (I had to hold in my laughter because I completely agree with him on that one).

In the vein of my above post, I decided to tell the father what I wrote about him, even though it was uncomfortable for me to express myself directly to him. What I learned made me appreciate him even more. I explained how amazing I thought he was and how inspirational. I told him that the way he provided a reliable routine for those boys was amazing and that the love between them was clear. I told him he was an amazing father.

He smiled at me and uttered just one hyphenated word: "grandfather". 

I was amazed that this man, who had such a close relationship with these boys, was not their father. I was proud of this man (and optimistic for humanity) for stepping in when needed and not just doing the minimum, but doing everything possible for these boys. This grandfather took on the responsibility of raising not one but two boys with Aspergers, a hefty task for anyone, but particularly for someone who took over "late" in their development. 

I believe that there was a reason I felt the need to tell him everything yesterday. After I was through, he looked at me and told me that it was the four year anniversary of the mother's death. He said it was hard, but they had each other. As they left, I couldn't help but smile... They sure did.