Let It Go... Not Elsa's Song

“Let it go.” Those words strike terror in my very soul. “Get over it.” That’s something I’ve never been able to do and never foresee myself being able to do. “Just push it out of your mind.” ...Sure, I’ll just try to mute the memories. That shouldn’t be too hard. Just kidding… It’s IMPOSSIBLE!

I have never been able to let things go. As a child it manifested in several ways. The first and most common for children was for me to determine that “so and so hated me” after one incident. I would recall that incident for years to come. It would happen over and over again. That certainly didn’t help my social problems.

The second way it manifested was in my hoarding. I’ve been a hoarder ever since I was a little girl. I kept everything. If my mother came up to help me clean my room, I was miserable because she came in with a trash bag. As a child I wasn’t able to explain, but as an adult, I have a little more understanding. I felt that each item could someday be important. A card may be the last card I ever received from someone; a note that seemingly meant nothing could become a theme for a novel I would write down the road; a piece of clothing that didn’t fit anymore had too many memories in it to let go of. My hoarding has only grown with my age.

The third way it manifested was in my obsession with death. No, I wasn’t one of those people… I am TERRIFIED of death BUT carry those who have passed on with me. I always have. When I was just a little girl, I used to go outside and play with bubbles. I always blew my bubbles towards the sky. Inside each bubble, I’d whisper a wish. It was a wish for my great grandfather and my grandfather to find the bubble and play with it. Those I’d lost were on my mind always… even when I was too young to comprehend what it all meant.

I used to have a nightly routine. I had a glow in the dark tic-tac-toe grid. Each night, I would speak to someone I had lost then I would take the grid and, placing my finger in each space, say goodnight to the eight people I had loved and lost. The center square was reserved for G-d. Interestingly enough, two of the people, my Bubbe and Zayde, were people whom I had never met (but I talked to them anyways). Another one of the people was my neighbor’s husband (I was very close with my neighbor but really didn’t know him at all). When I look at it that way, I realize that I mourned people that I didn’t even know.  

...A hazard of having a big heart I guess…

Looking at my life today, it still revolves around those I’ve lost.

My car and my computer are both named Lil Carol(e) 2. The Lil is for my great grandmother Lillian. The Carole is for my grandmother. The Carol is for my Carol who passed away a year and two days ago.

I have a picture frame in my room (in the shape of a ballerina). It has 6 photos in it. One has both my nana and my papa. Two more contain my nana but my papa is conspicuously missing. The last 3 don’t contain either of them. By the time those were taken, they were both in heaven. I call that frame my “If they could” wish. The other 3 photos are from events that I wish with all my heart they had been able to attend.

In my bed with me are many comfort objects, each tied to a particular person. I have my great nana’s blanket (which I sleep with every night). I also have my Relay for Life blanket (which I have slept with every night since Carol was diagnosed with Cancer). Beside my pillow lies a photo of myself and Carol. The doll my nana gave me, affectionately known as Pink Baby, lies on top of the photo. A square of blanket that my favorite neighbor crocheted for me covers Pink Baby to keep her warm.  Then there are the animals. My sock monkey family had not been complete without a Grammy and a Papa monkey, so I got full sized monkeys for them. They both sleep in the bed with me. Then I have Rosie, the pink orca named after Auntie Rozie. I also have my hospital bear which my parents gave me and my tigger pillow pet which my brother gave me. I also have my white tigger which my uncle whom I almost never get to see got for me on one of his visits.

...and those are just the ones in my bed… the couch is full too!

The thing is, as much as I want for these weights to be lifted off my heart, I will never be able to let go. I strive every day to make my loved ones proud. I strive to be as loving as my Great Nana and as courageous as Carol. I strive to be as big of a role model as Dr. Marcus and as tough as my Nana. I strive to be as romantic as my Papa seemed to have been (I may have read my Nana’s diary 10 or so times…) and as creative as my Great Papa. I strive to be as determined (and Awesome) as my friend RJ. I strive to be as good of a listener as Mrs. Vaughn. Without carrying these people in my heart, I’m afraid I wouldn’t know who I am anymore. I am a conglomeration of them.

I don’t mean to say that I don’t have my own identity. I just know that each had unfinished business to do and that my goals align in some way with each of theirs.

...Not to mention, here I am alone. Now I like being alone, but I like being alone on my own terms… not all the time. I was thinking of getting an emotional support dog or a trained Aspie service dog (trained to calm, read your emotions and react accordingly, and be a constant companion. also trained to be hypersensitive so loud barking etc is decreased), but have been told now’s not the time. I don’t have the money to support a dog and I certainly don’t have the money to pay to train a service dog.

I understand completely why my mom feels that I need to let things go and move on with my life. I hope that someday I can… I know that I am not intentionally ignoring the suggestion. For me, the mere suggestion simply seems impossible.

The Rollercoaster That Was My Trip Home

Part 1: Getting There

For the past several months, I had been getting ready for my trip home. Finally it was almost time to depart. Being me, I had made several lists detailing things I needed to do, things I needed to pack, and things I needed to accomplish before traveling on the 11th. Unfortunately… I am me…

What I mean by that is that common sense was not always on my side. I ran 3 loads of laundry but can only reach the bottom dryer in the laundry room, so I removed what needed to be hung and placed the rest of the laundry in the dryer. At the end of the cycle, most of the clothing was still wet and I wound up having to hang it dry… HOWEVER I didn’t have nearly enough room on the drying rack in my apartment, so I had to empty all of my wire hangers and hang the wet clothes on the hangers in my front closet. I left the door open and the light on so mold wouldn’t grow, but obviously, this was not ideal.

Furthermore; when I was putting my pills together, I realized that the remaining bottles of one of my medications were not filled with the proper medication (I had always gone by size of bottle on those ones because it was the only medicine that came in a bottle that big)... oops…

Knowing that I would more than likely not hear from my doctor before I left for the airport, I sent a message asking for the medicine to be called in to the pharmacy back home… then the new insurance company refused to fill it; but that’s a story for another time.

On Thursday night when I was supposed to be packing, my friend Jason had posted on facebook that he was uploading a new video of the abandoned Six Flags New Orleans. I call it my “Aspie Obsession”. I am obsessed with all abandoned amusement parks, but my true passion lies in SFNO. Anyhow, he posted that the video had been posted so I stopped packing and immediately started hitting the refresh button… Two hours later, I was still hitting the refresh button and was somewhat horrified that I hadn’t spent the last two hours packing. Around midnight, the video finally finished rendering and appeared on my computer screen. I spent a half hour watching it with a grin on my face. I felt that I had satisfied my obsession but I’d done nothing to prepare for my trip!

After my series of unfortunate events (many more than these three, but I hate to make myself look dumb), I was ready to travel. I worked both of my jobs on Friday night and returned home completely exhausted. I finished packing my carry-on, fitting my teddy in and my Tigger Pillow-pet in my suitcase, and climbed into bed.

I didn’t sleep… I was too excited (and anxious… but mostly excited)...

The next morning, I had some cereal, packed the car, and headed to the airport. I HATE flying! I don’t like airports, planes, and I definitely don’t like being out of control of the situation. Since my diagnosis, I have been able to receive accommodations at the airports and on the planes. Sometimes the help is great and sometimes it leaves something to be desired, but I am definitely grateful for it!

My local airport is very small. I don’t mind it so much. I still enter wide-eyed and “snap-necked” ( a phrase I coined to describe the quick jerking movements my head and neck make when I’m anxiously looking around) but don’t need any help navigating the airport. I do make sure to get there early so I don’t get stuck in a throng of people, but even if I did, there’s only about 50 people in my airport at a time.

About an hour before takeoff, I took my dramamine and zanex. As the waiting area filled, my headphones went on (although I sometimes look rather silly with the cord not plugged in to anything). Boarding was not as smooth as it normally is… they boarded all priority boarding with military (and I live in a town with an air force base) and AA Advantage members (that’s most of the town… AA is the only airline to fly in and out of our airport). Fortunately, once on the plane, I was in a single seat and the zanex sent me off to dreamland before takeoff (which for me is the best way to fly).

I HATE takeoff and landing. Nothing is ever perfect, and this time, I was asleep for take off but was awake for landing. My teddy was squeezed extra tightly but I survived. When I got off the plane, I stopped on the jet bridge and asked where I was supposed to meet my escort. Just my luck, the escort wasn’t there. I was brought to the gate and left while the gate attendant tried to get someone to escort me.

Because of the mixup, the special escort who was supposed to have training working with Autism and other special needs (as opposed to mobility needs) never came and I was escorted by a regular mobility assistant (someone who pushes the wheelchairs). He walked about 10 feet in front of me. When we were on the tram, I sat in the handicap seating and he stood on the other side of the tram. If I hadn’t been paying attention or if I’d been lower functioning, I can only imagine what could have happened because he was so far away. I told him I have a phobia of escalators and he walked right onto the escalator and proceeded down it like it was no big deal. I finally got onto the escalator and he was already off it and disappearing around the corner. The escort did not make things easier for me and other than showing me the way, it was almost like he was never there.

The second plane boarded much like the first, but instead of AA Advantage members, they boarded first class along with military and priority boarding. Again, I was surrounded by more people than I was comfortable with. I fell asleep before takeoff again and woke up to find that Paddington was on. I enjoyed the movie then watched one of my own on my tablet. Landing was once again a source of anxiety but I knew that my mother was waiting at the gate for me.

Once we landed and I released my grip on my teddy, my legs started bouncing up and down with joy. I was home and almost in my mom and dad’s arms.