Yesterday I drove from Saint Louis to Indianapolis and on the drive I was thinking about the reasoning as to why I've been down the past few days. After some miles I realized that I was still working through the issues of being in the high school I would have gone to.
I thought I shook the feeling, but I guess I hadn't because I was chasing normal. I call "chasing normal" the "times when one is thinking and starting every sentence with 'If I were normal..."' As I've said many times on here, "when one looks at what they aren't one will forget who they are" and I was having this happen to me full force.
Then as I got to the Indiana state line I had a revelation. For the first time ever I have discovered what normal actually is. It's been debated for a millenia or so but I have finally figured it out. To put simply, normal is what one is not and this is the problem with normal.
As I thought about that I realized that no one is normal. Doesn't everyone wish something were different about them, or wonder what it's like to be another person? Maybe it isn't something people admit, but I'm sure at some point in time everyone wished they were normal.
Of course though, for us on the spectrum, normal is something that we chase, crave, and wonder about. I've had many sleepless nights to the mental thoughts of, "Oh, to be normal, I mean, if I were..." and each time, every single time, I lose track of who I am. So this is the problem with normal. When one chases it normal becomes a myth that's larger than life and is a place where euphoric bliss happens. I may realize this now, but the next time I wish I had a more active social life, or the next time I'm asked a question, say, at a gas station that flusters me and it takes me more time to process and in the end it's just an all around awkward situation I too with yearn, crave, and dream about this place called normal. Right now I know there is no such place, but, when the time comes, I'll want it more than anything and that, right there, is the problem with normal.
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Friday, May 18, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Conquering Life's Small Hurdles
Okay, with such an over the top title as this you might be thinking that I have accomplished something grand or something totally awesome. Well, to you the chances are that I haven't. However, to myself, this is a big deal as, for the first time in my place, I turned the stove on and... and... boiled water!
Disappointed in my news? I'm not because I have had a deep fear of the stove because I was worried the second I touched it I would be down the path to burning the place down. Why did I turn in on though? I finally convinced myself that I can't afford to constantly eat out for my meals so yesterday I went to the store and bought a whole lot of meals and one thing I stocked up on was the cup of noodles.
People have told me many times that I should try it and I always resisted. Then, whilst I was in Topeka on my tour, staying at the Candlewood Suites, the pantry for the hotel had a spicy edition of the cup of noodles and it was late and I was hungry and everything else seemed horrible so I went with the noodles, liked it, and now it's a meal that's been added to what I eat. And they're cheap too!
So yeah, today's news isn't revolutionary, but something that a lot of people do without thinking about it (or fearing that they're going to start a four alarm fire) is now something that I can do. Who knows, maybe down the road I'll say I prepared some meal that I can't pronounce and use sauces I've never heard of... okay, probably not, but for right now I'm going to enjoy these noodles and relish this minor victory.
Disappointed in my news? I'm not because I have had a deep fear of the stove because I was worried the second I touched it I would be down the path to burning the place down. Why did I turn in on though? I finally convinced myself that I can't afford to constantly eat out for my meals so yesterday I went to the store and bought a whole lot of meals and one thing I stocked up on was the cup of noodles.
People have told me many times that I should try it and I always resisted. Then, whilst I was in Topeka on my tour, staying at the Candlewood Suites, the pantry for the hotel had a spicy edition of the cup of noodles and it was late and I was hungry and everything else seemed horrible so I went with the noodles, liked it, and now it's a meal that's been added to what I eat. And they're cheap too!
So yeah, today's news isn't revolutionary, but something that a lot of people do without thinking about it (or fearing that they're going to start a four alarm fire) is now something that I can do. Who knows, maybe down the road I'll say I prepared some meal that I can't pronounce and use sauces I've never heard of... okay, probably not, but for right now I'm going to enjoy these noodles and relish this minor victory.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
The Halls of My Would Have Been High School
Last night was it; the final presentation on the 2012 Autism Awareness and Understanding Tour. I didn't know what to feel as the day started as I took Rob to the airport and then gave a police presentation in Washington, Missouri. If anything I was numb due to the fact that sleep hasn't been easy for me since I have returned home.
The hours ticked by and in the late afternoon I headed towards Lutheran High School South in the South County area. For one reason or another a string of memories was triggered as I got off I-270 and headed north on Tesson Ferry Road. So many times, many years ago, Emily and I traveled this same route.
I may mention Emily in every presentation but nothing is really felt. However, this was not the case last night. Each place I drove by seemed to spawn a memory which in turned brought up so many more memories. For the first time in many years I thought back on those years and I missed them. I was trying to make sense of what it was and then I realized what I am today and the long road it took to get to where I am now.
Memory after memory kept popping up, though be it the place I had an MRI, the place that the go-kart club meetings were held, and a place that I spent New Years Eve in 1998. Each place I passed, it was like the memories right now, this very second. I tried to figure out why I had this memory explosion and maybe it was the fact that I was away for so long, or maybe it had to do with the fact that I haven't felt many emotions lately and this was the result of that.
Mercifully, I got to Lutheran High South and I realized that when I pulled into the parking lot that, had I gone to high school, this would have been the school. It was a chilling sensation when I walked through the doors. Had I gone to school here, I would have done this daily basis.
Right away I walked into the room that my presentation was to be in and there were 70 or so chairs set up and I thought that, "wouldn't be nice if each of these were filled?" Then I had a run of my usual negative outlook and figured that three people would show up. Then I settled on the fact that half the chairs would be filled and I'd consider it a victory.
Debating the size of the audience was going to come to a sudden stop. When I was walking to my car to get books, I saw noticed, on the wall, class pictures from every year and suddenly I held my breath. I didn't want to go near, I truly didn't, and yet I approached slowly as if what I was about to look at was somehow illegal, or from a plot from some time travel movie.
Oddly enough, the class pictures that I saw were my two potential classes. (I went to actual school K-6, then home schooled 6-7, and then because of the timing I stayed in 7 one extra year hence the reason for that statement) I stood in silence and unknowingly held my breath. If the memories weren't already over over powering, I was now in memory overload. It didn't help that each person that I knew I recognized, as with my memory I can instantly recall a person if I see them again which is in contrast to the fact I can't recall a person unless I am actually seeing a picture.
A minute or so passed and I was still there silent and motionless. I began to think on the "what could have beens." What if I had gone to high school? Would I still know these people? I mean, school itself was hard for me and I wasn't picked on or anything like that so would, well, would these people be "friends?" And, do these people even know or remember that I even existed at all?
I was asking such profound questions that, perhaps, will never be able to be answered.but even though I knew that I, stood there in deep thought. I then thought it was such an irony that this place that would have been high school, was the place for the final presentation of my 45 day tour. After I thought about that I began to ask the question that usually leads to a dark place, "What if I would have been "normal?" Then the tsunami of sadness crashed over me and I stood in an even greater sense of silence and I felt lost and out of place.
"To be normal? What does this even mean?" I said in a quiet whisper. These are questions that, usually when I ask what I would have been if I were normal, take me a day or so to realize but after 42 days on the road and presentations coast to coast I could see clearly who I was. I've talked in the past that when one. "sees who they aren't they will forget who they are" and for the first time ever I didn't lose sight of this. Yes, I have a slight regret that my picture isn't with all those people I knew, but if I had been there would I have been there last night? Would I be the person I am? I am who I am right now and I can think, wish, and yearn for things to be different but at the end of the day, or rather at every second of the day, what was done is done. I'm the person I am now because of everything that has happened and that line is true of people that are or are not on the autism spectrum.
A sense of calm came over me because the very fact that this would have been my high school gave me more passion to give the best presentation possible. I was diagnosed at age 20 and if I would have had the words to describe who I was my school years would have been much smoother. I said I wasn't picked on but people didn't go out of their way to talk to me either. My memory of those days was that I was simply there not for the better or worse. It certainly, if I had known what to say, could have been better.
After all this time reflecting I turned away from the pictures content with who I am. Right now, I am doing more than I ever could have imagined in my life. I didn't think any of this was possible and while I still had a hint of wonder if anyone on those graduates remembers me, I was here, on this night, to continue my mission to raise the level of awareness and understanding.
20 minutes prior to the start of my presentation people started arriving, and more people, and even more! With five minutes to go the majority of chairs were full and we now had a problem as we were quickly running out. And we did, indeed, run out, so more chairs we found and by the time I started there was a total of 105 in attendance. 105! I couldn't believe it. It was actually hard to find my composure as it was such an honor that I would get that number. True, I've had triple-digits before, but I forget those and I only remember what the most recent "now" is and, well, having so many last night sent chills through my system and made me quiver in sheer awe that I once again was blessed to give a presentation about the roller coaster ride of Asperger Syndrome and to once again profess the fact that there is hope.
The presentation I gave went well and the questions at the end were great as well. Afterwards I felt as if, in a way, I made up for the lack of attending school there. Sure, I don't have the memories of learning and friendship, but now rather I have memories of reaching people. I have memories of making a real difference and several years ago I never could have imagined such a thing.
So that's it; the 2012 Autism Awareness and Understanding Tour is over. What does this mean? Not much really because one could make the statement that my entire year is this tour, but in reality I guess we could say that this means the coast-to-coast driving is over, but I'm right back at it tomorrow and Thursday with presentations. However, for the tour itself, I feel the finish line at Lutheran High South was an amazingly fitting place because I have thought long and hard about what I might have missed not having the high school experience. Also, did I miss out on the sense of accomplishment by not surviving my four years? Well, I'll never know that, but as I walked out of the building that would have been my high school I had a feeling that I think would be like that of graduating and that was the sense that I did everything I could, and then some, to bring about a new dimension about Asperger Syndrome. So yes, while there was a split-second of remorse while I was looking at those pictures of the classes I could have been in I walked out of the high school with my head high with the knowledge that, if I had the chance, I wouldn't have changed a thing.
The hours ticked by and in the late afternoon I headed towards Lutheran High School South in the South County area. For one reason or another a string of memories was triggered as I got off I-270 and headed north on Tesson Ferry Road. So many times, many years ago, Emily and I traveled this same route.
I may mention Emily in every presentation but nothing is really felt. However, this was not the case last night. Each place I drove by seemed to spawn a memory which in turned brought up so many more memories. For the first time in many years I thought back on those years and I missed them. I was trying to make sense of what it was and then I realized what I am today and the long road it took to get to where I am now.
Memory after memory kept popping up, though be it the place I had an MRI, the place that the go-kart club meetings were held, and a place that I spent New Years Eve in 1998. Each place I passed, it was like the memories right now, this very second. I tried to figure out why I had this memory explosion and maybe it was the fact that I was away for so long, or maybe it had to do with the fact that I haven't felt many emotions lately and this was the result of that.
Mercifully, I got to Lutheran High South and I realized that when I pulled into the parking lot that, had I gone to high school, this would have been the school. It was a chilling sensation when I walked through the doors. Had I gone to school here, I would have done this daily basis.
Right away I walked into the room that my presentation was to be in and there were 70 or so chairs set up and I thought that, "wouldn't be nice if each of these were filled?" Then I had a run of my usual negative outlook and figured that three people would show up. Then I settled on the fact that half the chairs would be filled and I'd consider it a victory.
Debating the size of the audience was going to come to a sudden stop. When I was walking to my car to get books, I saw noticed, on the wall, class pictures from every year and suddenly I held my breath. I didn't want to go near, I truly didn't, and yet I approached slowly as if what I was about to look at was somehow illegal, or from a plot from some time travel movie.
Oddly enough, the class pictures that I saw were my two potential classes. (I went to actual school K-6, then home schooled 6-7, and then because of the timing I stayed in 7 one extra year hence the reason for that statement) I stood in silence and unknowingly held my breath. If the memories weren't already over over powering, I was now in memory overload. It didn't help that each person that I knew I recognized, as with my memory I can instantly recall a person if I see them again which is in contrast to the fact I can't recall a person unless I am actually seeing a picture.
A minute or so passed and I was still there silent and motionless. I began to think on the "what could have beens." What if I had gone to high school? Would I still know these people? I mean, school itself was hard for me and I wasn't picked on or anything like that so would, well, would these people be "friends?" And, do these people even know or remember that I even existed at all?
I was asking such profound questions that, perhaps, will never be able to be answered.but even though I knew that I, stood there in deep thought. I then thought it was such an irony that this place that would have been high school, was the place for the final presentation of my 45 day tour. After I thought about that I began to ask the question that usually leads to a dark place, "What if I would have been "normal?" Then the tsunami of sadness crashed over me and I stood in an even greater sense of silence and I felt lost and out of place.
"To be normal? What does this even mean?" I said in a quiet whisper. These are questions that, usually when I ask what I would have been if I were normal, take me a day or so to realize but after 42 days on the road and presentations coast to coast I could see clearly who I was. I've talked in the past that when one. "sees who they aren't they will forget who they are" and for the first time ever I didn't lose sight of this. Yes, I have a slight regret that my picture isn't with all those people I knew, but if I had been there would I have been there last night? Would I be the person I am? I am who I am right now and I can think, wish, and yearn for things to be different but at the end of the day, or rather at every second of the day, what was done is done. I'm the person I am now because of everything that has happened and that line is true of people that are or are not on the autism spectrum.
A sense of calm came over me because the very fact that this would have been my high school gave me more passion to give the best presentation possible. I was diagnosed at age 20 and if I would have had the words to describe who I was my school years would have been much smoother. I said I wasn't picked on but people didn't go out of their way to talk to me either. My memory of those days was that I was simply there not for the better or worse. It certainly, if I had known what to say, could have been better.
After all this time reflecting I turned away from the pictures content with who I am. Right now, I am doing more than I ever could have imagined in my life. I didn't think any of this was possible and while I still had a hint of wonder if anyone on those graduates remembers me, I was here, on this night, to continue my mission to raise the level of awareness and understanding.
20 minutes prior to the start of my presentation people started arriving, and more people, and even more! With five minutes to go the majority of chairs were full and we now had a problem as we were quickly running out. And we did, indeed, run out, so more chairs we found and by the time I started there was a total of 105 in attendance. 105! I couldn't believe it. It was actually hard to find my composure as it was such an honor that I would get that number. True, I've had triple-digits before, but I forget those and I only remember what the most recent "now" is and, well, having so many last night sent chills through my system and made me quiver in sheer awe that I once again was blessed to give a presentation about the roller coaster ride of Asperger Syndrome and to once again profess the fact that there is hope.
The presentation I gave went well and the questions at the end were great as well. Afterwards I felt as if, in a way, I made up for the lack of attending school there. Sure, I don't have the memories of learning and friendship, but now rather I have memories of reaching people. I have memories of making a real difference and several years ago I never could have imagined such a thing.
So that's it; the 2012 Autism Awareness and Understanding Tour is over. What does this mean? Not much really because one could make the statement that my entire year is this tour, but in reality I guess we could say that this means the coast-to-coast driving is over, but I'm right back at it tomorrow and Thursday with presentations. However, for the tour itself, I feel the finish line at Lutheran High South was an amazingly fitting place because I have thought long and hard about what I might have missed not having the high school experience. Also, did I miss out on the sense of accomplishment by not surviving my four years? Well, I'll never know that, but as I walked out of the building that would have been my high school I had a feeling that I think would be like that of graduating and that was the sense that I did everything I could, and then some, to bring about a new dimension about Asperger Syndrome. So yes, while there was a split-second of remorse while I was looking at those pictures of the classes I could have been in I walked out of the high school with my head high with the knowledge that, if I had the chance, I wouldn't have changed a thing.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
The Void
Tonight is my final presentation of the 2012 Autism Awareness and Understanding Tour. Earlier today I drove to Washington, Missouri to give my police presentation and on the 50 mile drive I was thinking about all the stories I heard from parents on my journey and I heard the same story in almost every city and I began to get angry.
My dad told me that the end of this journey is the start of the next one, or something like that, and I think he might be right because this story I kept hearing is one that should not happen. What story am I talking about? At least one set of parents at each city I was in said something like this, "Yeah, after the diagnosis we didn't know there were any services for anything autism and that we were simply told, 'good luck.'"
If I'm not mistaken, I do believe the year is 2012, isn't it? If that's the case, why is there still this void? I am at a loss as to how a doctor can give the diagnosis but then not let the parents know anything else. Could this be one of the reasons why so many parents are hesitant to inform their kids, or school for that matter, that their child has Asperger Syndrome? What I mean by this is that if the doctors simply say "It's Asperger Syndrome... Good luck," what will the parents take from this? And, if the doctors say their child is on the autism spectrum, then the parents only hear the word 'autism' and what conclusions can they draw?
I did a radio interview yesterday and the questions McGraw Milhaven asked me were great because he focused on hope, and I was able to mention that we are raising the level of awareness and he then mentioned that so many people only think of "Rain Man" when the word autism comes up. That is the image a lot of parents have in their minds. Now, if one of those parents gets informed that their child has it and are not filled in on the fact that autism is a spectrum, and that there are therapies, and that a diagnosis is not a prison sentence, then perhaps this void can be avoided.
As TouchPoint's public service website says, "Sooner Equals Better." Time is of the essence, but too many families fall into this post diagnosis void of no info, no services and no hope and it most certainly does not need to be this way.
Again I ask, how is this possible? How can doctors inform the family and then send them out the door without any info of what the diagnosis means and the next step of action? If I had just heard this one time I would say that it was an isolated incident, but at every stop on my journey I heard this story. How? Why?!
When I arrived home on Saturday night I did a video blog entitled "The Checkered Flag," but once again I feel as if the green flag is flying because the race to spread awareness is a race that can't be lost. I have sat back and thought that the level of awareness was to a point that we could now focus on the understanding aspect, but from what I heard on my 8,900 mile journey, this isn't the case.
Maybe working on awareness is something that will always be needed and maybe we will never achieve 100% awareness but this is something I am dedicated to. The post diagnosis void is a dark place filled with hopelessness and a feeling of being lost. It doesn't need to be this way, and if the world's awareness of the things people on the spectrum are capable of and the fact that there are services beyond the doctor's words of "good luck," then maybe, someday, we can conquer this void and families will no longer be battling the myths, stigmas, and fears of the autism spectrum but rather be better equipped and have the knowledge to know what the autism spectrum is. Yes, the green flag is out and the race on to win the battle against the VOID!
My dad told me that the end of this journey is the start of the next one, or something like that, and I think he might be right because this story I kept hearing is one that should not happen. What story am I talking about? At least one set of parents at each city I was in said something like this, "Yeah, after the diagnosis we didn't know there were any services for anything autism and that we were simply told, 'good luck.'"
If I'm not mistaken, I do believe the year is 2012, isn't it? If that's the case, why is there still this void? I am at a loss as to how a doctor can give the diagnosis but then not let the parents know anything else. Could this be one of the reasons why so many parents are hesitant to inform their kids, or school for that matter, that their child has Asperger Syndrome? What I mean by this is that if the doctors simply say "It's Asperger Syndrome... Good luck," what will the parents take from this? And, if the doctors say their child is on the autism spectrum, then the parents only hear the word 'autism' and what conclusions can they draw?
I did a radio interview yesterday and the questions McGraw Milhaven asked me were great because he focused on hope, and I was able to mention that we are raising the level of awareness and he then mentioned that so many people only think of "Rain Man" when the word autism comes up. That is the image a lot of parents have in their minds. Now, if one of those parents gets informed that their child has it and are not filled in on the fact that autism is a spectrum, and that there are therapies, and that a diagnosis is not a prison sentence, then perhaps this void can be avoided.
As TouchPoint's public service website says, "Sooner Equals Better." Time is of the essence, but too many families fall into this post diagnosis void of no info, no services and no hope and it most certainly does not need to be this way.
Again I ask, how is this possible? How can doctors inform the family and then send them out the door without any info of what the diagnosis means and the next step of action? If I had just heard this one time I would say that it was an isolated incident, but at every stop on my journey I heard this story. How? Why?!
When I arrived home on Saturday night I did a video blog entitled "The Checkered Flag," but once again I feel as if the green flag is flying because the race to spread awareness is a race that can't be lost. I have sat back and thought that the level of awareness was to a point that we could now focus on the understanding aspect, but from what I heard on my 8,900 mile journey, this isn't the case.
Maybe working on awareness is something that will always be needed and maybe we will never achieve 100% awareness but this is something I am dedicated to. The post diagnosis void is a dark place filled with hopelessness and a feeling of being lost. It doesn't need to be this way, and if the world's awareness of the things people on the spectrum are capable of and the fact that there are services beyond the doctor's words of "good luck," then maybe, someday, we can conquer this void and families will no longer be battling the myths, stigmas, and fears of the autism spectrum but rather be better equipped and have the knowledge to know what the autism spectrum is. Yes, the green flag is out and the race on to win the battle against the VOID!
Monday, May 14, 2012
The Empty Office
First, if you missed Saturday evening's special post I did do a video blog from my driveway after returning home after the 8,900 mile journey for my autism speaking tour across America.
You might think that after almost 50 straight days on the road that I would be taking a day off but you would be mistaken. Earlier today, right after the crack of dawn, I did a radio interview via the phone and, well, it might have been my worst performance to date. It didn't help that I was unable to go to sleep until 2AM as my mind would quite simply not shut off. Maybe it was because I was in an alien land known as my own bed, or maybe I haven't allowed myself time to decompress, but whatever the case may be trying to sound intelligent is rather hard to do after 3.5 hours of sleep and just 15 minutes of being awake.
So after the first interview I did have room for redemption as I was once again invited on the McGraw in the Morning show on The Big 550 KTRS. I was on a little over a month ago and as I entered the studio McGraw welcomed me and asked me how my tour went. It had just been a month since I was in that studio but it seemed like half a lifetime, but as soon as it was time I was back into my "Alias" mode and it was so weird to hear me introduced as McGraw said, "And back by popular demand, and coming off a nationwide tour..." After that as bad as I was in the early morning I think I gave my best interview to date and once we were off the air McGraw told me, "You are becoming a real pro at this radio thing."
From the studio I headed to the TouchPoint office, which is where I am now, and it is nothing like I remember it. You see, we're in the midst of moving and my office has always been on the 2nd floor and right now I am the only one on this floor.
When I opened the door to the floor it was almost as if you had entered a house you lived in years ago and yet now it is uninhabited. Before I made it to my office I took a slow stroll through the halls. It was, and I can't believe it was this long, 2 years 3 months ago that I first walked into these halls as Community Education Specialist and walking the halls was like living all the memories, meetings, and accomplishments of those years.
I was rather surreal as each office I passed I was expecting to look in and see a person on the phone, or maybe hear a "hello" or maybe, as I passed another door, a conversation on golf. Yet as each door I passed there was simply emptiness.
Change is something I don't handle well. I know, that is an odd thing to say after spending 45 days on the road, but in that experience, since everything changed daily, nothing changed at all. Here though, at the office, everything changed except within the walls of my office.
On my slow stroll I walked passed my office and headed to the corner of where our residential offices were. In all the time I worked here I never actually went into that corner, so I decided that it was better late than never and I looked in, saw another room that was just an empty shell of its former self and then I walked to my office and re-entered the world I knew as my office, like I said, is the same.
My office won't be here much longer. Just like everyone else I will move to somewhere and this building, and this office of mine that I grew so much in, will be lost. Sure, we can say that I grew by myself and this building was just the place that it happened, but having the "associative memory system" like I do it just isn't something that I can say goodbye to without emotion.
This is one of the harder posts I've written as this is like saying goodbye to a close friend. I mean, it was from this chair and desk that this blog was started and probably 3/4ths of all posts have been written from here. Some of my great ideas have come from this room and perhaps today is my final day in here.
So yes, change happens and with time a new place will have the same memories, but for right now I don't see that. I've always been like this as with the close of each school year I would usually break down not because of saying goodbye to everybody but rather because the I figured I never would step foot in that classroom again. And of course, if you didn't read it last year, the same emotions popped up when I said goodbye to my car.
Then there's the loss of my trips to the Taco Bell. I had many blogs inspired by my lunches there, but those will be no more. Of course, wherever I go, there will be a new place, but oh the agony to say goodbye!
This empty office may be a shell of its former self, and I may be sad now, but change happens. Somewhere (I haven't been there) the people I remember are in there offices. Somewhere will be a new place that I will get to know that I sit down and blog about my experiences and from that point people all over the world will read it. Somewhere new memories will be formed, but for now I will mourn the impending close of the scene of the greatest years of my life for the next time I close my office door it could be for the last time.
You might think that after almost 50 straight days on the road that I would be taking a day off but you would be mistaken. Earlier today, right after the crack of dawn, I did a radio interview via the phone and, well, it might have been my worst performance to date. It didn't help that I was unable to go to sleep until 2AM as my mind would quite simply not shut off. Maybe it was because I was in an alien land known as my own bed, or maybe I haven't allowed myself time to decompress, but whatever the case may be trying to sound intelligent is rather hard to do after 3.5 hours of sleep and just 15 minutes of being awake.
So after the first interview I did have room for redemption as I was once again invited on the McGraw in the Morning show on The Big 550 KTRS. I was on a little over a month ago and as I entered the studio McGraw welcomed me and asked me how my tour went. It had just been a month since I was in that studio but it seemed like half a lifetime, but as soon as it was time I was back into my "Alias" mode and it was so weird to hear me introduced as McGraw said, "And back by popular demand, and coming off a nationwide tour..." After that as bad as I was in the early morning I think I gave my best interview to date and once we were off the air McGraw told me, "You are becoming a real pro at this radio thing."
From the studio I headed to the TouchPoint office, which is where I am now, and it is nothing like I remember it. You see, we're in the midst of moving and my office has always been on the 2nd floor and right now I am the only one on this floor.
When I opened the door to the floor it was almost as if you had entered a house you lived in years ago and yet now it is uninhabited. Before I made it to my office I took a slow stroll through the halls. It was, and I can't believe it was this long, 2 years 3 months ago that I first walked into these halls as Community Education Specialist and walking the halls was like living all the memories, meetings, and accomplishments of those years.
I was rather surreal as each office I passed I was expecting to look in and see a person on the phone, or maybe hear a "hello" or maybe, as I passed another door, a conversation on golf. Yet as each door I passed there was simply emptiness.
Change is something I don't handle well. I know, that is an odd thing to say after spending 45 days on the road, but in that experience, since everything changed daily, nothing changed at all. Here though, at the office, everything changed except within the walls of my office.
On my slow stroll I walked passed my office and headed to the corner of where our residential offices were. In all the time I worked here I never actually went into that corner, so I decided that it was better late than never and I looked in, saw another room that was just an empty shell of its former self and then I walked to my office and re-entered the world I knew as my office, like I said, is the same.
My office won't be here much longer. Just like everyone else I will move to somewhere and this building, and this office of mine that I grew so much in, will be lost. Sure, we can say that I grew by myself and this building was just the place that it happened, but having the "associative memory system" like I do it just isn't something that I can say goodbye to without emotion.
This is one of the harder posts I've written as this is like saying goodbye to a close friend. I mean, it was from this chair and desk that this blog was started and probably 3/4ths of all posts have been written from here. Some of my great ideas have come from this room and perhaps today is my final day in here.
So yes, change happens and with time a new place will have the same memories, but for right now I don't see that. I've always been like this as with the close of each school year I would usually break down not because of saying goodbye to everybody but rather because the I figured I never would step foot in that classroom again. And of course, if you didn't read it last year, the same emotions popped up when I said goodbye to my car.
Then there's the loss of my trips to the Taco Bell. I had many blogs inspired by my lunches there, but those will be no more. Of course, wherever I go, there will be a new place, but oh the agony to say goodbye!
This empty office may be a shell of its former self, and I may be sad now, but change happens. Somewhere (I haven't been there) the people I remember are in there offices. Somewhere will be a new place that I will get to know that I sit down and blog about my experiences and from that point people all over the world will read it. Somewhere new memories will be formed, but for now I will mourn the impending close of the scene of the greatest years of my life for the next time I close my office door it could be for the last time.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Friday, May 11, 2012
The Final Lap
This is it! Today marks the last on the road presentation for me 2012 Autism Awareness and Understanding Tour as tonight I have a presentation in San Antonio.
I was going to do a video blog on the terrace of the hotel with the Riverwalk in the background, and then I decided on writing a long blog, but neither has worked. I have so many different emotions right now that I don't know what I am feeling. I mean, I'm excited to get back to home as it has been so long and yet I'm going to be sad to say goodbye to life on the road and giving presentations in regions I have never presented before.
Today is going to be an awkward day. There aren't many times where I am speechless, but this is one of them so for now I am going to rest, tonight I am going to give my presentation, and tomorrow, well, tomorrow is the drive home.
I was going to do a video blog on the terrace of the hotel with the Riverwalk in the background, and then I decided on writing a long blog, but neither has worked. I have so many different emotions right now that I don't know what I am feeling. I mean, I'm excited to get back to home as it has been so long and yet I'm going to be sad to say goodbye to life on the road and giving presentations in regions I have never presented before.
Today is going to be an awkward day. There aren't many times where I am speechless, but this is one of them so for now I am going to rest, tonight I am going to give my presentation, and tomorrow, well, tomorrow is the drive home.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
My 600th Post: The "Autism Is..." Project
As with my 400th and 500th post I am running the "Autism Is..." project. The timing is perfect for this as my book, "Finding Kansas" was released last month as well as the fact that my Autism Awareness and Understanding Tour is in its final lap. So yes, the timing is perfect as those things are things I've done, but once again on my blog it's your turn...
I did this once and I wanted to run this again. For today I want you contribute. This is a simple task and all I want you to do is finish the line, "Autism is..." I want as many answers as possible. If you've contributed before feel free to do so again.
Autism is still a gigantic mystery to most people outside of the spectrum and I want as many comments as possible. This truly is a spectrum disorder and no single voice can cover the whole spectrum. So, autism is...? There are no right answers, or wrong answers. Use one word, use as many words as the comment form below will allow (4096 letters). The only thing I ask is that we keep this positive and if you want you can mention if you are a parent, on the spectrum, professional, or have no ties to the spectrum. You also have many options as you can post your name, or do it anonymously.
So now it's your turn, "Autism is..."
I did this once and I wanted to run this again. For today I want you contribute. This is a simple task and all I want you to do is finish the line, "Autism is..." I want as many answers as possible. If you've contributed before feel free to do so again.
Autism is still a gigantic mystery to most people outside of the spectrum and I want as many comments as possible. This truly is a spectrum disorder and no single voice can cover the whole spectrum. So, autism is...? There are no right answers, or wrong answers. Use one word, use as many words as the comment form below will allow (4096 letters). The only thing I ask is that we keep this positive and if you want you can mention if you are a parent, on the spectrum, professional, or have no ties to the spectrum. You also have many options as you can post your name, or do it anonymously.
So now it's your turn, "Autism is..."
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
"No it Doesn't"
I was feeling rather discouraged on the drive yesterday from Phoenix to Tucson. I was thinking about everything that I said in yesterday's post, but then a song that was playing in the car sprung a line of memories that reminded me why I do what I do and is a fitting thing to write about in this my 599th post.
This event goes all the way back to 1st grade and music class. Music class was always confusing for me, such as the time we listened to the Surprise Symphony and the rest of class gave very exaggerated response to the "surprise" in the symphony. However, that was just a mild thing compared to what happened later in the year.
We were listening, well, I'm not certain as to what was playing, but the teacher had plugged in the very large speakers and the vibrations from the bass was immense. I do remember that on this day my music teacher had a terrible cold and her voice was very quiet. Anyway, as soon as the music started I felt the shaking all throughout my body as well as the vibrations in the floor. This wasn't just an odd feeling, but it hurt. I raised my hand and said, "I feel the floor shaking!"
She responded, "Yes, it's called bass."
I responded with, "It hurts."
And she responded with something that I think shaped me. Yes, in my presentations I say that in 2nd grade, when I learned the pattern of the fire drills, I was afraid to speak up. Could it have been from this experience in 1st grade? Perhaps and it all could have started with her response of, "No it doesn't."
I've heard from many parents along my nationwide journey on fears of when, if ever, to tell their child they have Asperger Syndrome. I think this story puts a lot of merit in the "tell" side because by my 1st grade teacher telling me that what I was feeling wasn't there I was essentially being told either A. I need to "toughen up" or B. I was making up these sensations. In either event what is the logical course of action? For me it was to quit speaking up because if no one knew how I felt then how could I ever be told that what I was feeling was false?
I think back to that year, it was the 1989-1990 school year, and how far the world has come in understanding. Back then Asperger Syndrome wasn't even a diagnosis so I don't think we can fault my music teacher, I know I don't, because the level of awareness just simply wasn't there. However, even though I don't fault her the ramifications from being told that what I was feeling was "wrong" so to speak left a long lasting fear of speaking about how I felt. Now, let's say I was in 1st grade now, and let's say I was already diagnosed, if this were the case and I spoke up there's a good chance that, with the ever-increasing awareness of the autism spectrum, there wouldn't be this denial of feelings but rather, hopefully, compassion or empathy and a solution to the problem.
If a person doesn't know they have it, and his or her environment is troublesome, what conclusions can they draw? The conclusion I came to was that I was weak. Of course, not all people will have sensory issues, but this concept that I've stated here can and does apply to other aspects of life. Well, let's just look at the way I started this and the Surprise Symphony. I could not understand for the life of me why everyone had to scream, jump, and laugh at it and yet I would become that animated at conversations about weather or auto racing. This crossed my mind, but I just thought that everyone else was different and that I was the normal one.
To close, as I could probably write an excessively long post on this matter, I would hope this post has shed a different light on this debate. I have Asperger's now, and I had it then; that's a given. Back then when I would try and speak up for help, or if something was bothering me, too many times I heard, "no it doesn't" or a variation of. If I knew I had it, and those around me knew I had it, I think things would have been easier. Yes, this is why I do what I do and this is why I've toured the country for over a month because, if all know it, I'm going to feel more comfortable to speak up and instead of being denied my feelings I might just hear, "I know, let me help."
This event goes all the way back to 1st grade and music class. Music class was always confusing for me, such as the time we listened to the Surprise Symphony and the rest of class gave very exaggerated response to the "surprise" in the symphony. However, that was just a mild thing compared to what happened later in the year.
We were listening, well, I'm not certain as to what was playing, but the teacher had plugged in the very large speakers and the vibrations from the bass was immense. I do remember that on this day my music teacher had a terrible cold and her voice was very quiet. Anyway, as soon as the music started I felt the shaking all throughout my body as well as the vibrations in the floor. This wasn't just an odd feeling, but it hurt. I raised my hand and said, "I feel the floor shaking!"
She responded, "Yes, it's called bass."
I responded with, "It hurts."
And she responded with something that I think shaped me. Yes, in my presentations I say that in 2nd grade, when I learned the pattern of the fire drills, I was afraid to speak up. Could it have been from this experience in 1st grade? Perhaps and it all could have started with her response of, "No it doesn't."
I've heard from many parents along my nationwide journey on fears of when, if ever, to tell their child they have Asperger Syndrome. I think this story puts a lot of merit in the "tell" side because by my 1st grade teacher telling me that what I was feeling wasn't there I was essentially being told either A. I need to "toughen up" or B. I was making up these sensations. In either event what is the logical course of action? For me it was to quit speaking up because if no one knew how I felt then how could I ever be told that what I was feeling was false?
I think back to that year, it was the 1989-1990 school year, and how far the world has come in understanding. Back then Asperger Syndrome wasn't even a diagnosis so I don't think we can fault my music teacher, I know I don't, because the level of awareness just simply wasn't there. However, even though I don't fault her the ramifications from being told that what I was feeling was "wrong" so to speak left a long lasting fear of speaking about how I felt. Now, let's say I was in 1st grade now, and let's say I was already diagnosed, if this were the case and I spoke up there's a good chance that, with the ever-increasing awareness of the autism spectrum, there wouldn't be this denial of feelings but rather, hopefully, compassion or empathy and a solution to the problem.
If a person doesn't know they have it, and his or her environment is troublesome, what conclusions can they draw? The conclusion I came to was that I was weak. Of course, not all people will have sensory issues, but this concept that I've stated here can and does apply to other aspects of life. Well, let's just look at the way I started this and the Surprise Symphony. I could not understand for the life of me why everyone had to scream, jump, and laugh at it and yet I would become that animated at conversations about weather or auto racing. This crossed my mind, but I just thought that everyone else was different and that I was the normal one.
To close, as I could probably write an excessively long post on this matter, I would hope this post has shed a different light on this debate. I have Asperger's now, and I had it then; that's a given. Back then when I would try and speak up for help, or if something was bothering me, too many times I heard, "no it doesn't" or a variation of. If I knew I had it, and those around me knew I had it, I think things would have been easier. Yes, this is why I do what I do and this is why I've toured the country for over a month because, if all know it, I'm going to feel more comfortable to speak up and instead of being denied my feelings I might just hear, "I know, let me help."
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