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"

The Girl Who Always Says Too Much

So, when I initially started this blog, I had planned for it to be a daily blog. Something I've realized while on this journey is: while I have a lot to say, it may not all mean something to the readers I have picked up along the way. I've always been the girl who said too much. A one paragraph assignment would turn into a one page paper, a three page paper would become a five page paper, and so on and so forth. For years, people have tried to get me to regulate my output and after going back and reading every entry here, I have begun to see what they mean.

IN NO WAY does this mean that I will stop writing. What it does mean is that there may be an inconsistancy in the frequency of posts. I feel that I will have a much stronger impact if each post I write has a clear directive and meaning for the readers and myself.