Confidence, Self-Care, and Letting Go

    We are already a quarter of the way through 2026. In January, my supervisor asked me to share one word that I would take with me into this new year. I chose the word "confidence". From that cold January day until now, I have poured my soul into increasing my confidence. As I reflect on the past 3 months, I realize that the seed of confidence I planted is starting to take root and I can begin to branch out and work on new things.

    As we move into the second quarter of 2026, my goal is to work on self-care. Now that I have confidence, I can work on using that confidence to prioritize my life, say "no" to unnecessary things, and let go of what I can't control.

    Almost a year ago, I moved into to inclusive independent living. During the Summer of 2025, I absolutely flourished. I switched jobs to better meet my independent goals and I was able to work with people with whom I have had trusted relationships with for years. In the Fall, I began working for FTE and slowly transitioned into a full-time position there. Shortly before Spring Break, I committed to working at CEEL on top of my full-time job.

    While I work full-time and live independently, Best Buddies also provides a wealth of social opportunities that truly makes the experience inclusive. I typically have some sort of extra activity after CEEL, 3-4 nights a week. I have been burning the candle at both ends, but this new opportunity to work at CEEL has also provided me with more independence.

    I''m sure by this point, many of you may be thinking that what I am describing, sure doesn't sound like self-care or saying "no", but wait! After reflecting on the decisions that I have made, there are ways to become more flexible and juggle the various activities I have on any given week. I'm still in the process of determining whether it is better to group things together into marathon days in order to have some "rest days" or spread things out in a balancing act.

    Through this process, I am becoming more mindful of what I need at different times of the day (puzzle breaks, dinner in silence, hot baths etc). This process has allowed me to reflect on what is working and areas for growth. It has provided me with the opportunity to reflect on what self-care means to me and what my brain and body need to stay healthy.

    Several years ago, I attended a Professional Development training. During this training, we were told to make each day a new day. If one of our student's had a bad day, it was our job to wake up the next morning, with a smile on our face, ready to greet that student as if nothing ever happened. It was not our job to remind that student about what had happened the day prior.

    Last week, I was reminded about this strategy in a way that can make my life a little smoother. Last week was awful. There was no one simple reason as to why it was awful, but it was much more so a complex web of things that made me feel like the sky was falling, when nothing earth shattering actually happened.

    As I reflect on the self-confidence I have developed, the self-care I need to be a happy, healthy, human, and the lessons I have learned from past professional development opportunities, I have discovered that I have the confidence to let go of the pas, start fresh, and treat myself with some love.

But I Can and No One Will Stop Me!

       I got off of the bus one afternoon during my middle school years to see an elaborately decorated yellow car sitting in my driveway. I wasn't too surprised by the fact that there was a different car sitting in our driveway given that my mom had been running her own business from our basement since I was 6 years old. What did surprise me were the decorations and graphics displayed on the car as if it had been pulled right from the movie Daddy Daycare. I quietly entered the house, skipping the normal race down the stairs to say good afternoon to my mother, where she usually asked me how my day was. I knew she was in a meeting. 

      Instead of interrupting my mother's meeting, I took my shoes off, hung up my backpack and made my way to the toy room. The toy room was the hub for all toys, games, and a mini television that my brother and I used often. The end of the day was always used to decompress. As I entered the toy room, there sat a grown man right in the middle of the room playing with my brothers hot wheel cars. To say I was shocked, was an understatement. Who was this man and why was he sitting in my playroom playing with my toys? I left the room immediately to yell down the stairs to my mother, knowing that she would probably have an explanation for what I had seen. It turns out, the client my mother was working with ran an Adult Training Facility for adults who had Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities. The owner just so happened to have a brother who had Down syndrome. While I was only in middle school, I was well aware of what Down Syndrome was. I grew up going to a daycare where my brother's best friend had a sister with Down syndrome: Dayna. I had also gone to grade school with a girl who had Down syndrome as well: Tanya. 

     When I entered high school, it was required that I complete at least 20 hours of community service per year. Given that I had a disability myself and I had an interest in working with individuals who had disabilities, I filled out the paperwork and got all the medical testing and immunizations done so that I could begin volunteering at Sunny Days Adult Daily Living Center. Unfortunately, by the time I began volunteering at Sunny Days, Terry, the man with Down syndrome who sat in the middle of my toy room had passed away. The first day that I spent at Sunny Days, I fell in love. The staff were friendly, the people were amazing, and they had two cats. What more could I ask for. 

     When I turned eighteen, I landed my self a part-time job at Sunny Days. I began working 25 hours a week over the course of 5 days. Shortly after starting, we realized that 25 hours was too much. It would be extremely beneficial for me to work Monday-Thursday and taken Friday off. This ended up working great, but it brought up the question of what I would be capable of managing in the future. Would I be capable of managing and house and a full-time job? We didn't know. 

     Once I began college, I was able to manage a full load of classes with no problem. That being said, I had down time between classes and I had the flexibility to take naps in the afternoon or stay up late at night to study. A year and a half into my college career, I was accepted into the Occupational Therapy program. The first two semester of the program weren't bad. The third semester hit and everything went to hell in a hand basket. My parents and I began questioning my ability to function in the world again. I did great in class and on tests, but group project and application of what I learned was a nightmare. Would I be able to hand the go, go, go of a typical job? In the end we determined that I would leave the Occupational Therapy program and earn my Bachelor's in Applied Technology. This would only require one extra semester of courses and I'd be out of there. 

     Fast forward to today. I'm currently working full-time, going to Grad School part-time, taking piano lessons, I have joined a Life Group, and I'm working on my BCBA supervision hours. There have been so many times that we didn't know I'd be able to do something. When I was young, my parents didn't know if I would ever live on my own. The future didn't look very bright. An Autism diagnosis landed me in a category with an 80% unemployment rate. What would my social and communication skills affect on the job? Right now, I am in my third year of full-time employment. I have my struggles, but I have so many positives to look at. The very fact that I have managed full-time employment for three years is absolutely beautiful. This summer I plan on working 2 part-time jobs, and continuing my journey through a Master's program. I will go, and I will not stop. I can do it!! There are statistics that tell me I can't, but those statistics are just numbers. The determination I have and the places I've gone, show me that numbers are faulty. Only God knows where I will go. The sky is the limit!!! 

     

She's Moving!

       It was a beautiful fall evening in 2007. I had just gotten done playing on the playground while my brother was at his soccer practice when my mom's phone rang. It was some lady/nurse at the doctor's office where I would go the next day to meet with a Psychiatrist, someone we thought would provide me with talk therapy and if needed provide me with medication that my family physician predicted I would eventually need given a diagnosis of Nonverbal Learning Disability, hormones, and the ever fluctuating emotions that come with adolescents. She wanted to confirm the appointment with my mother and make sure her records were correct. I sat there, listening to the conversation, wondering what my future would look like. I had just spent the past 11 years of my 14 year life taking medication for Epilepsy, in the hopes of one day being medication free. 

     The following day I got called to the office during gym class for an early dismissal. My parents were there to pick me up for the appointment with the Psychiatrist. I remember leaving gym class that day, telling my classmates I had a dr. appointment, but not wanting to divulge too much information given the sensitivity and stigma that surrounds mental health. I was only 9th grade at a school of 120 kids in grades 9-12, still trying to figure out who I was. Going to see a Psychiatrist was the last thing I wanted to do. 

    We arrived at the Dr.s office right on time, if not a few minutes late. We entered the office on the bottom floor of the building to sign in. The receptionist signed me in and just as we were about to head upstairs to the children and family clinic, the receptionists phone rang. On the other line was my Psychiatrist wondering where we were, having never met us before and not knowing our ability to be somewhat prompt. The receptionist got off the phone to inform us that we better head on upstairs because the Psychiatrist was looking for us and seemed to be not so patiently waiting for our arrival. I felt somewhat intimated at first, my mother just having referred to the doctor as having a hairy eyeball. This was a phrase that I was unfamiliar with and took quite literally given the black and white thinking I had that is common in people with Autism Spectrum Disorders. Upon entering the Psychiatrists office he was much friendlier and ready to help us. 

     Heading into the appointment with the Psychiatrist we had absolutely no intention to put me on medication. From our understanding based on what my family physician had said, was that this Dr. would provide talk therapy and medication if necessary, thus decreasing the amount of Dr's I would need to see in the future. What we soon found out was that Psychiatrists don't do talk therapy. They just prescribe medication. During that first Psychiatric appointment at 14 years old, I was prescribed an antidepressant for anxiety and given a pamphlet of information about the risks of taking such a medication and the possibility of developing suicidal thoughts, as if I didn't already have enough difficulty with mood and emotional stability to begin with. That was the whole reason I was there. 

      Before I left that appointment and began taking the antidepressant for a suspected anxiety disorder, my Psychiatrist recommended a new Psychologist who had just joined the practice. The new therapist just so happened to specialize in treating Autism Spectrum Disorder's and was trained in Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT). My doctor explained that while I didn't have Autism and given the fact that I had a brain injury (from birth), that CBT might not work, but he suggested we meet with her. 

      At the end of my appointment we knocked on her door to see if she was available to speak with. She had just moved to the area and didn't have any clients yet so she took a few minutes to talk with us. That evening I sat on her couch as she listened to my mother talk about my history and present concerns. The therapist began asking questions about routines and rigidity. Having undiagnosed Asperger's syndrome at the time and perseverating on that very condition, I questioned why she even bothered asking about routines and sameness when I wasn't diagnosed with an Autism Spectrum Disorder. Besides that, she seemed incredibly friendly and ready to help us, so we scheduled a follow up appointment with her.  

     During our follow up appointment, she got to know me a little better. We both learned a little about each other. She had just moved to the area because her husband had landed a tenure-track job with Penn State. I am always able to get a feel for someone the first time I meet them. I fell in love with this therapist, the first time I met her. I knew she would be the right match for me, probably based the multitude of horrible therapist experiences I had, had in the past. I panicked at the idea that given that her husband had moved here for work, she could technically move at any time for work again. Over the years she regularly reassured me of her stability in her current community and the there were no plans to move. That was until fall/winter of 2009. 

     In the fall of 2009, my mom got an email from my therapist on a Friday afternoon. She wanted my mother and I to come to her office Saturday morning. This had never happened before and all I could think of was the worst. Is she leaving? Is she moving? I knew something was up. When we arrived at the Dr.'s office to meet with her, my mother completely bypassed the downstairs offices where we typically check in and headed right for my therapist's office. I knew it couldn't be good. As I walked in, panicking on the inside and showing my emotions across my face, the therapist told me there was nothing to worry about; everything would be okay. We all sat down and she broke the news to me. She was leaving that mental health practice for a mental health practice two hours away. My heart sank. 

    During that unscheduled appointment with my therapist, she explained where she was going and what she would be doing. She gave me time to process and was fully supportive of my feelings. She made a list of possible referrals she could make to other therapists and support groups and sent us on our way. Less than a year later, I was back in her office at a satellite location of the mental health practice she was working for. No one understood me like she did. I have since discontinued therapy with her, graduated high school, been a sponsored success story for Dickinson Mental Health Center,  earned my Bachelor's degree, maintained a full-time job, spoken at Soaring Heights Schools and I'm currently working on my Master's Degree. 

     The story sounds finished, but it's not. Three weeks ago, my mother reached out to this therapist for something and was informed that she was moving. This time she isn't moving just a couple hours away. She is moving half way across the country to Nebraska. She'll no longer live 15 minutes from me, or work 2 hours away from me. I'll probably never see her again and that hurts. I've taken the last three weeks to process everything, to come to a point where I could write this well and not sob the whole way through. She has done a lot for me and we will stay in touch. I am her success story. With the internet, the work is at our fingertips. 

      This may not sound like a big deal, but I want to conclude with what was accomplished when I was under her care. First of all, she looked at me holistically. She didn't just ask me about how I felt or what I was trying to say. She looked at family dynamics, took my interests into account (including some rousing games of Othello, and walking laps outside the clinic), and she did what worked for us. After a couple years of therapy and concerns raised by my parents, she was the one who finally diagnosed me with Asperger's after being continuously misdiagnosed with a whole slew of other labels. She gave my parents and I hope for the future. She told me I could when other's told me "no way". She is who advocated for me and helped provide me with the skills to advocate for myself and tools to cope. If it wasn't for her, I don't know if I would have even attended college, much less Grade School. 

     I sat in my current therapists "office" (my hammock swing on my deck)  Thursday afternoon I explained to her that I had a friend moving and I was struggling. I sat in that hammock swing trying to keep my mouth shut about the fact that I was grieving the loss of a past therapist and how stupid it was. My current therapist kept asking, "who is this friend", "which friend is this?", until I finally broke the silence and told her. I was terrified to tell her, but you know what, she was amazing. She validated my feelings. She told me that I was experiencing ADULT feelings. She acknowledged the incredible loss I was going through as I questioned every emotion I had over this adult who I haven't even seen in person since 2019 when I spoke at our local Autism school. She was amazing. She told me that it wasn't stupid at all. She told me that there was a huge difference between someone living 15 minutes away and living half way across the country. It didn't matter who it was. 

      Back in college, I had another friend graduate before me and I was so sad to see her leave. I kept making statement's about needing to say goodbye. My friend would keep reminding me that it's not a good bye. She wasn't leaving, she was just moving on. She said, "don't say goodbye, it's see you later". I have held on to that every since and it has helped me so much. Right now I'm not in the process of saying goodbye, I'm in the process of saying, "keep in touch". Keep in touch dear friend! 

      

      

     

Let's Talk About Trauma-not coping skills

        I want to write a blogpost. I really want to, but it seems that every time I try, I get stuck. It's as if what I want to say is too long for Facebook or too short of a blog. I know I've talked about being sick, like a lot, but its a huge part of the past year for me. Today, my parents are in AZ, I'm adjusting to being home with out them, and my anxiety is high. This is the first time my parents have left me since being sick.

      Yes, I said that right. My have had to cancel several trips because of how ill I was. They were supposed to go on a trip in October. Then they were supposed to go on a trip back in the spring. You know what, they couldn't. They couldn't leave me while I was in the state I was in. It wasn't a matter of me forcing them to stay home. It was a matter of whether or not I would be stable enough at home without an emergency call to my Psychiatrist or even the slight possibility that I would have to be hospitalized. It was that serious. When I say that my anxiety is hight, I'm not being dramatic. In fact it is quite traumatic

     Don't get me wrong, I'm doing a lot better, but I still have bad anxiety days. Just as I said above, my parents area away. Changes have always been difficult for especially when it deals with travel. I like to travel myself, but that causes anxiety as well. I worry about my parents or my family making it places safely. I also worry about things that could go wrong while we are away, such as a medical crisis.

     Today, I posted on my wall that I was having a bad anxiety day. Most people were sympathetic, but there were a few that weren't. One person decided to tell me that since it was a bad anxiety day, that meant that it was an opportunity to practice my coping skills. Quite frankly, I have to practice my coping skills every day. If I didn't practice my coping skills everydayI probably wouldn't be where I am today, much less even be here. The fact of the matter is that there is a huge difference between Trauma and Anxiety. An anxiety disorder is typically chronic in nature whereas trauma is severe and acute (rapid onset). The anxiety that I am left dealing with stems from trauma. When something stems from Trauma, it requires a whole new set of coping skills that one may not have had for their typical anxiety.

     There are still some things that I can still use to help with my anxiety, but a lot of the things I used to use, don't work anymore. Deep breathing became a real struggle when I developed heart palpitations. I'll never forget the night where I yelled for my mom several times and she didn't here me. I was scared to get out of my bed. I finally went to the bed she was temporary sleeping in and laid up against her. My heart felt like it was literally pounding out of my chest. I'm not talking a fast heart rate and panic attack. I'm talking about waking up in the middle of the night, truly wondering if my heart is going to explode. My mother at the time, had to sleep upstairs and right next door to me because I was frequently needing her in the middle of the night.

      While realizing that deep breathing wasn't such a good strategy, I tried distracting myself from the anxiety or illness. That was an absolute horrible idea. It sounds really great to keep your mind on positive things, but when you are so far down the rabbit whole, you can't come back up too easily. I was to the point of feeling as though I shall not distract myself from my anxiety and gods will for me. I shouldn't watch television or listen to music. I shouldn't play a game or color. Those activities were not made to glorify God, but were distractions from the devil. Heck, the internet had me believing that adult coloring was the antichrist doing his work as the rapture was on its way. Adult coloring was the anti-christs way of distracting us from God. It allowed us to color mandala's which had a center point that led to the cosmos in Buddhism. Yoga was the antichrist because the positions that you move into are ways to worship the sun god in hinduism. I'll stop there.

    When it comes to anxiety, it all becomes very difficult as well because the root of my traumatic illness was anxiety. Now when my anxiety acts up, it's not simply anxiety acting up. When it does act up, in come the flashbacks or memories. While they are not vivid in the sense of visualizing something like a war vet might, they are very real. When I feel anxious, I feel as though I am going to go through what I went through in the fall. I get scared that I'm going to go back down hill. I get scared that I will not only enter the hell I was in but that I won't return to normalcy. I feel worried that I will get so bad again, and I lose my fight.

    Anxiety is something that someone can overcome. You may be able to talk someone through the event. For example, I used to be scared of sirens. My parents would tell me that the sirens are to help traffic move out of the way. The sirens were police and ambulances and what not going to help someone. Those are thoughts you can process through. Anxiety happens around things that can be reasoned through.

     During a traumatic even like I went through, it's also hard to recover based on the cognitive processes one has to go through. During the first night of high anxiety, I went to the bathroom and had an anxiety attack on the toilet and heading back to my bed. I thought I was going to keel over dead. Therefore, I was became fearful of merely standing up or sitting down on a. toilet seat, worrying that I was going to have a heart attack and fall over. I could tell myself that it was only anxiety attack, but that doesn't take away the flashbacks or memories.

    Today, I avoid certain situations like the plague, unless I am forced to enter them. This is another difference between anxiety and trauma. Anxiety makes you worry, while trauma causes you to avoid the most irrational things. Until almost the end of the school year, I absolutely hated using the school bathrooms; four cement walls, feeling alone and claustrophobic all at the same time was really hard for me to do, feeling as though something could happen and no one would no where I was or know that I needed help if I needed it.

     This coming fall, Penn College will have there Homecoming and Family weekend again. While most people will be excited for all the festivities and be ready to reunite with old friends, I will be at a wedding. I will not being returning to Homecoming weekend this year or maybe even ever. I can't go back to a place where there is so much pain. I can't believe I've actually even managed to travel to Williamsport since everything happened. I couldn't stand the idea of going back to Atloona for some shopping after spending a day in December there with some friends, merely trying to survive. When I say that I'm having a bad anxiety day, don't tell me to use my coping skills. Tell me you are there for me or give me "hugs". If you can't do that, then please keep your thoughts to yourself.

     

Hiding

     During my college years and prior to the events of October 2018, I was the life of the party. That is as much as an awkward aspie who desperately wants friends can be. I definitely wasn't the one with the most friends or the one to go out to parties or out to drink on Friday and Saturday nights. I did do my fair share of socializing though. I was the one who went to practically every event I could while I was on campus. I even went to events that involved dogs even though I didn't care for them. I went not for the dogs, but for the people.

     In my Freshman Seminar class we talked a lot about personalities, working with others, and even took the Meyer's Briggs Personality Assessment (I'm an ESFJ if you didn't know that already). I was an extrovert through and through. I occasionally wanted alone time, but for the most part, I had to be around other people. Other people kept me energized. When there was an event in our resident halls, I was there and probably the loudest one there because I fed off of everyone else's energy Things have changed since then. 

        In October things changed a lot and while I'm better, things still aren't the same. I know I stated this before, but as I "recover" more, I'm able to take the pieces apart and realize what is wrong and what is still okay. One of the biggest things that have is my personality and my extrovert side and thats kind of hard. 

       At this point in my recovery, my anxiety is still high, but manageable. When I am around other people my anxiety increases. This never used to happen. I never viewed myself as someone with social anxiety. While I've always worried about everything that I say and do, that was a learned behavior that I gained during a very particular rough patch in my life. These days I just feel like hiding. 

     I crave having relationships with others, but I have no idea what to do. There are times when I so badly want to hang out with someone so I try and plan something. As the time comes nearer, I begin to feel more and more anxious. I just planned to hangout with a friend tonight and then became anxious when it was time to spend time with her. I make soap every Sunday and while I truly enjoy making soap, somedays I just don't want to have other demands put on me or have to interact with others. Heck sometimes, I just don't want to get out of my dog on pajama's. Then there are group interactions.

     During extracurricular activities or activities besides my work, I can't last much more than 2 hours before I want to go and hide. I go out and do soap with my friends on Sundays, but after 2 hours I'm completely done and ready to go home, but I don't mind going out to a part and having alone time either.

      During organized conversations and hanging out with multiple people, I become very anxious. I begin to just want to hide my head in my phone and play Pokemon. I get anxious because I don't know what to talk about. I feel as though I constantly talk about myself and all the medical shit I deal with and sometimes its hard for me to talk about anything else. Then the schedules get thrown in there. When you have several people your interacting, you never know what the hell is going to happen next. 

      Several years ago we sold the house where we were able to see the local fireworks from our back porch. Since we have moved, we have been unable to develop any sort of tradition. That being said, we spent 4th of July with friends at a campground about 45 minutes from home. There were probably 10 or 15 of us and only a couple hours to fit things in. I swear that we spent more time talking about who was doing what than actually getting stuff done. There was no schedule, no routine and absolutely nothing to keep my mind sane. It was also way too hot out which meant that a lot of time was spent in the pool. Then I didn't feel like being wet anymore so then I was hot again. After a quick snack, we went river tubing. I know, it sounds like so much fun, but it was the slowest tubing trip I've ever been on. I swear there were moments when we weren't actually moving. 

      I don't mean to complain. There are great things that I am doing, but when you have anxiety and social anxiety, it's extremely hard to focus on the positive when you feel like your in hell. Then I get on Facebook tonight and everyone is having babies, wedding showers, and weddings. I've been invited to absolutely nothing so far and I feel defeated. Okay, I said it! I feel defeated and it feels like know matter what I do, I can't win. When I socialize I want to hide and when I hide, I want to socialize. I never seem to be happy and comfortable anymore. 

Lying...It's Complicated

    I always tell people that my mom grew up Jewish, my dad grew up Catholic, and I was raised Christian. After making such a statement, I’m typically confronted with a statement or question back pertaining to the fact that no matter what, I'm Jewish by default since my mother is Jewish. In the end, it really doesn't matter what my descent is; it matters how I was raised and what I believe. I was raised Christian and I believe that Jesus is the Messiah. Given these facts, there are certain rules and beliefs that one follows as is the case in any religion.

     One belief that I have always been raised with is the belief that lying is a sin. In fact, I pretty much grew up thinking that as long as I didn't lie, I didn't sin. Then came the tween years and the teen years when I had to learn the difference between a lie and a fib. I had to learn the difference between a lie and a white lie. Lie's in general were not okay, but a white lie was fine because it meant that you were getting the job done or you were covering up something so that others feelings were not hurt. For example, getting excited about a gift you receive even though you already have that same thing. Another example being that you tell someone you love their shirt if they ask because if you tell them you hate it and it's ugly, you'll offend them. I always grew up learning that lies were bad and white lies were not so bad, but what people don't tell you is how complicated things can get.

      Growing up, people don't tell you how complicated things can get when someone else lies on your behalf. People don't tell you that someone else's lie on your behalf can get back to you. They also don't tell you what your supposed to do when someone else lies on your behalf and you find out later. Everything your taught as a child kind of changes when you grow up. As a child everything is built on not lying and learning that someone depends on your lack of lying to gain their trust. What happens when things change? What happens when things get more complicated than what your taught?
     
     A couple of months ago someone lied to me about something. I honest to goodness believed every word they said until today. Today, I found out that this person lied and they not only lied to me, but they lied to my parents as well. When this particular event occurred, we absolutely believed everything they said and that what they were telling me was to benefit me. We had no reason to not believe what they said because this individual has known me for quite a while. They have never, to my knowledge, lied to me before and I thank them for that. This individual cared and still cares about my well-being and while they lied to me, I still believe this statement to be true. This is what makes things so hard.

    I sit here tonight trying to wrap my head around what happen a few months ago and why someone would have lied to me. I get what they did, but why they lied is something I don't fully understand. It's also hard to understand what to do about it. Would the outcome have been different had they not lied? Yes. Would the outcome have been good if they told the true? That’s questionable. If someone you trust lies to you, do you still continue to trust them? What if their lie was meant to help you? I grew up learning that not lying and trust go hand in hand. What happens when that one lie occurs? When you have known someone for such a long time, what is supposed to happen to that trust you had with that individual? One of the hardest questions come when you find out the truth from another individual. What are you supposed to do? Are you supposed to confront the liar? Are you supposed to ignore it and forget about it? These are really tough questions. You really want to trust others and what they have to say. You don't want to hurt others for something they did that was a mistake, even if it was a really big mistake. It’s hard enough to confront someone who has done wrong that hurts you. It’s even harder to confront someone when did t with such genuinity.

      At this very moment two really popular quotes come to mind. "What you don't know doesn't hurt you" and "Kill people with kindness". I really like the first quote because it's true. My supervisor uses it a lot when we are talking about what we say or don't say to our kids on a daily basis. I don't lie to my kids on a daily basis, but as someone who works full-time with children, you learn the art of  manipulation. For example, you may artfully check your email in the middle of the day about an early
dismissal and not let the child know until it is absolutely necessary. You may also tell your child that we can talk about what ever they are distracted by, fully knowing that they will completely forget about it by the end of a lesson. I think it's important in some instances to act in such ways, but it's also important to discern what appropriate times are.
   
     In the end, I think it's important to realize that we all must kill each other with kindness. People make mistakes and we need to forgive them for that. When they make mistakes we still need to remember to love them. In the end we all make some mistakes. Some are little and some are some real doozies.

The Perfect Day!

     Today, as I stood on the playground during recess duty, I began to explain to one of the other paras how yesterday seemed to be a perfect day. I went on to explain that by no means was it an easy day, but it was still perfect. Most days I wonder where God is and why he hasn't completely healed me and my mind since October. I wonder where he is when I ask for peace of mind or joy. Sometimes I begin to doubt, but yesterday was a day where I felt like God was giving me a little tap on the shoulder. Yesterday was perfect. 

      On Friday I sat in my living room typing away on my phone through messenger. I had seen a post by a friend that had me concerned. A few weeks prior to this post, a mutual friend had been hospitalized and then life-flighted to Geisinger. I hopped on and asked my friend if everything was okay based on her post and genuine concern for our mutual friend. My friend reassured me that everything was okay and that it had just been a rough week. She then added, "i also wanted to let you know that Emily isn't doing well". As I proceeded to as questions, she informed me that she really didn't think Emily was going to make it. Saturday, Emily at the mere age of 33 passed away surrounding by loved ones at Geisinger Medical Center. 33, less than 10 years older than me. 

      Fast-forward to this work week. I texted my direct supervisor to let her know that Emily had passed away. I truly didn't know if I was going to make it through Monday without falling apart at least once. I woke up Tuesday to be informed that it was a snow day. I didn't really want a snow day. I didn't want a day to wallow in tears and think about Emily. After having a great day Monday without falling apart, I didn't need to fall apart Tuesday. I hopped on Facebook in desperation that Sunny Days was possibly open. It wasn't, so I spent the day at home curled up with my family. 

      While the previous days had been hard and with Depression setting in, I became even more concerned about another snow day on Wednesday. I needed to keep my mind busy. I woke up at 6:30am to another email informing me that the schools were closed due to ice. I absolutely could not fall asleep, but something marvelous happened. I gave my old supervisor at Sunny Days a call to see if they were open. They were, and I decided to head in to visit everyone.

      

      Heather, my friend who works at Sunny Days where Emily was a client before she became ill, had informed me a day or two earlier that they were putting a memory board together for Emily's viewing. The pictures they were using were from Emily's time at Sunny Days. I was super excited about this and allowed Heather to pull a pic of Emily and I from my Facebook page for the memory board. 

     When I arrived at Sunny Days on Wednesday, the staff were just putting together the memory board for Emily. Low and behold, they had forgotten to add the picture of me and Emily as they had planned. I asked Heather if she had forgotten to print it and informed her that it was okay if decided not to added. Heather had completely forgotten, but with a reminder from me, she added my pic in. After all the pictures were glued down, I was instructed to write a little note about my memories with Emily. Wednesday evening we had the viewing. I had never gone to a viewing before and I had never expected that the first viewing I went to would be for someone who was so young. 

     Wednesday was hard, but it was still a perfect day. We need remember that when things get hard, there is still a plan. I fully intended to go to work on Wednesday. God had other plans that he so beautifully orchestrated through a snow day. Had we not had the snow day, I would not have ended up at Sunny Days. If I wasn't able to go to Sunny Days, I would have never added my picture or written my message to/about Emily. The snow day also allowed me to grieve with the people who were closest to both me and Emily. The day concluded with her viewing and dinner with my parents. 

      Yes, I said earlier that Wednesday was a day of God giving me a little tap on the shoulder to remind me he was there. He beautifully orchestrated this day for me to grieve, but not be upset. It gave me a chance to ask question and hug and empathize with my Sunny Days family. This one day gave me that perfect chance to write something on Emily's memory board, allowing her mom to see that I am still part of the Sunny Days family and that I care deeply about the loss of her daughter who was so loved. 

     

      While the day was a great reminder that God is near, it was also a great reminder for things to come. Having never gone to a viewing or a funeral before, I had never seen a dead body. As soon as I Emily's face, my stomach turned. Looking at someone's body feels so unnatural and perfectly uncomfortable. I do believe that God made this so because we were not mental to live a mortal life. God originally created us to have eternal life. In that moment of seeing Emily's lifeless body, knowing her high spirit and energy, it showed me that there has to be life after death. Sometimes we doubt God and sometimes we really wonder about Heaven. Emily was not there in that body. Emily was completely gone. Someone who had such a happy demeanor and high energy does not just disappear. For I truly believe that Emily is in heaven with Jesus. Having these experiences has truly showed me how God is working through me and around me. He is ever present. 

      Emily, you were a beautiful soul that no one could ever forget. Anytime I walked into Sunny Days, your arms would start flailing and your legs would begin to kick. You had the biggest smile on your face, giggling with your arms stretched out for a hug. You would often times point to my belly as to ask if I was going to have a baby; you loved babies. When you became concerned about someone who you hadn't seen in a while you would reach your hand up asking if they were in Heaven. You my friend are in Heaven. I'll never forget you asking me about Grange fair as soon as the warm days of summer came. You also didn't go by a day without your ranch dressing on something. You will be missed. High Fly Emily! 

Crisis

     It has been 10.5 weeks since I first got "sick" and I truly wish for no one else to go through what I have gone through. A lot has happened since October 5th, but unfortunately the story isn't over. I've had countless doctor's appointments, numerous emergency phone calls to the psychiatrist, several changes in medication and I have had new labels added to my diagnosis list. I'm not happy, but I think I'm finally getting healthier.

    Two weekends ago I went to into crisis mode. I don't think many people really actually understand what I mean when I say crisis. On Saturday I had gone to Altoona with my mother and a few family friends. Traveling to Altoona for shopping is usually a joyous occasion. I had a horrible time, lost my temper on someone, and my mom didn't know if I was going to make it through the day without completely losing it. On Sunday we went to see a doctor at the weekend clinic who could only tell me to go home and call my Psychiatrists office. By the grace of God, I was able to talk to my Psychiatrist.

    During our last emergency call to my Psychiatrist we completely rearranged the way I am taking my medications. Prior to getting sick I was taking an SSRI and an anxiolytic regularly. I would take a medication (not narcotic) to assist in my sleep as needed. Today I am taking that same sleep aid twice a day to literally keep my body from being in a fight or flight mode. The doctor has since added Trazodone to my medication regimen for sleep. It may only be one medication, but its really hard to think about the fact that something that used to knock me out for 12 hours at a  time is now being used to keep me from panicking during the day. It has been two weeks and things have stabilized.

      A couple of weeks ago I began seeing a new therapist to hopefully help work with the anxiety. When beginning with the therapist I was extremely cautious about my optimism given that I didn't think a therapist could possibly fix a problem that a medication caused. To this day I don't think therapy would have helped without the previously mentioned adjustment. Now that I have had a couple sessions, I am beginning to see major improvement. While the improvements have been nice, there has been an increase in diagnoses and I am still not the same person I was before I took Levaquin.

     Upon initial assessment my new Psychologist diagnosed me me with moderate Major Depressive Disorder. If anyone knows me, they know that I am anything but depressed. I'm probably one of the most outgoing people you could meet, but this is what medication has done to me. Since getting my medications adjusted, I have also been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder as well. During the period of such high anxiety, it was difficult to really see what all was going on until I could fully articulate everything. I, Simply J am absolutely not a diagnosis and I would wish the stuff I have gone through on no one. Please understand, I am doing well, I am healthy, but I am not the same. Please educate yourselves before you take medications. While I have Depression and OCD, they don't have me!!!

   

7 Weeks

     It has been 7 weeks since I fell ill and a few people have asked how I am doing. Over the course of the past 7 weeks a lot has happened. I've seen many doctors, I've had blood tests done, and I've had medication adjusted more than once. I am not the same person I was before I took Levaquin, but I am strong. I've taken 5 sick days, I've quit my after school job, I've seen the doctor 3 times, my blood has been drawn 3 times, and I've had 2 EKG's, and 2 medication changes. I will win this battle against Levaquin. 

     I have seen a doctor more 3 times more than I would like to admit in the past 7 weeks. During the first appointment to see the doctor for what felt like death, the doctor did and EKG and some blood work. The doctor assured me that I was fine and that I probably had a virus of some sort. During this visit the EKG was normal and the blood work was not. At this time, I had severe anxiety, a low grade fever (99 or 100.4)  that depended on which ear you checked. I also had episodes of hot flashes with sweating. The blood work showed me as having a CO2 level of 21mmol/L when the normal range is 22-32 mmol/L. My AST was 49 U/L when it should have been between 10-35 U/L. Lastly my ALT was 94 U/L when it should be between 10-35 U/L. This blood work was collected on 10/11/18. 

    After a week of dealing with what the PA thought was a virus, I continued to feel the same: severe anxiety, sweaty hot flashes, muscle tension, and jerkiness. We decided to see the doctor again. At this appointment which occurred on October 20th, the doctor suspected that I was suffering from Mono or Hepatitis. All Mono tests came back normal and my liver enzymes still looked high, but had come down. At this point everything looked normal except for a high AST of 88 U/L. The doc wanted a follow up set for 4 weeks. 

     On the night of November 2nd or the early morning hours of November 3rd, I woke up in bed with what felt like my heart pounding out of my chest as my heart was racing. We immediately contacted my PCP at this time who asked me to set up an appointment with a doc for a holter monitor. On Saturday November 4th, the doctor placed a Zico patch on me and informed me that I may have a heart arrhythmia. At this point in time it is being determined whether or not I have Paroxysmal Atrial Tachycardia which means that my heart may have an extra fiber. I have since found out that Levaquin can cause long QT intervals of the heart which can cause cardiac arrest if not resolved in time. If I have a heart arrythmia, a surgical procedure is imminent. 

      Yesterday, I had a follow up blood test done. My AST is still abnormal, but I have made it down to 54 mmol/L. I occasionally have the hot flashes. I have heart palpitations or pounding at night.  I have stopped taking my birth control and my mood seems to be manageable. I see the doctor on Tuesday. I am currently continuing to work full-time. 

Invisible

      The past month of my life has been an absolute nightmare and it has taken until tonight for me to actually right down what has happened. Sometime towards the end of September, I came down with your average cold: sore throat and cough. Over the following days, it seemed as though I could not kick the cold. It turned into Bronchitis, my mom kept me home from work, and we went to see the doctor. What happened next, is something that I wish on absolutely no one.
     On Wednesday October 3rd, I was prescribed Levaquin for what we thought was Bronchitis and possibly a UTI. I took my first dose of my antibiotic that night. I took the following day off of work and continued to take the antibiotic. Right after taking this medication on Friday October 5th, we headed up to Homecoming at Penn College. It was my first trip staying away from home, in a hotel, without my mom. As we traveled to Williamsport, I realized that my anxiety was increasing and my stomach was not feeling well. I typically have anxiety when I travel. The anxiety bothered me, but no more than expected.
      Friday evening, I enjoyed time with old college friends, ate buffalo chicken dip, and called it a night. When I returned to the hotel, I got cuddled up in my pajamas, cuddled up in bed, and I tried to fall asleep. I soon realized that I was unable to relax myself enough to fall asleep and my heart began to race. Over the course of that night, I had 2 panic attacks and I thought I was going to die.
       Saturday morning, I woke my father up around 6 because I felt like I couldn't function or stay alive without him. My father grabbed breakfast and I begged to head home despite the fact that there for several fun things to do that day. Upon arriving home, I couldn't do much more than move. My mother arrived home from a retreat and took me to see a doctor who reassured me that the medications I was on were fine and that my heart was fine.
       On Monday October 8th, my mother contacted my Psychiatrist to see if he had any idea what was going on. He gave me a call later that day to share the news that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me or the Levaquin. He told me to keep taking my antibiotic and that it may just be messing with my anti-anxiety medication. He told me to give it 2-3 days to get out of my system and that I would be just fine. That Monday, I took the last dose of the medication I will ever take, despite the fact that I had one more dose to take.
      On Thursday October 11th, I felt as though there was no way that I could function and go to work. With no ability to go to work and function, my mother took me in to see the doctor again. At the office, they performed an EKG (normal), and some blood work that came back a little abnormal, but nothing too worrisome. The doctor informed me that I just had a virus and felt miserable, despite the fact that I still felt like I was dying and felt as though I couldn't think straight.
     I went back to work on Monday October 15th as I had no choice. I have already used half of my sick days for the entire school year. I went to work all week. Wednesday October 17th turned out okay and I thought I was on the mend. Thursday October 18th everything got bad again, but I had, had a CPR/First Aid training which could've increased my anxiety. By Saturday October 20th, my mother felt the need to take me to see a doctor again to get to the bottom of everything. More blood work was run and everything came back the same, if not a smudge better. The anxiety and stomach upset that I have had over the past 3 weeks has been terrible.
      Last week, I finally informed my boss that I needed to stop doing the 2nd part of my job. I am no longer working for our after-school program. As I was working with a student today, I ran into one of my supervisors in the hall. She knows that I am not well and knows that I can't do after school anymore. The problem I sit hear with now is realizing that I probably looked great to my supervisor today, but the reality is that on the inside I'm suffering. Today was a great day too, but that doesn't mean that tomorrow will be. I plan on going to bed tonight and waking up perfect, but I realize that may not be the case. I struggle with this dilemma all time. I feel like others couldn't believe what I am saying based on how I look on the outside. The reality is that I am sick. I may not be coughing sick, but I am mentally not well and I have a virus. I don't like having something that looks so invisible to the naked eye. I don't like to upset others. I want the best for everyone and I try my best. I never want someone to think I am a wimp or think that I'm giving up too easily. I know no one is upset, but it must be so hard to understand something that is invisible. Please understand that I am suffering. Today was great, but tomorrow could be different. I will let the world know when I am well. Never take Levaquin!!!
   
   

The World

     Do you ever just feel mad at the world? Are you ever mad for no apparent reason? Well, sometimes I'm just mad at the world. There is nothing I'm mad about, yet I'm mad about everything at the same time. I know, it's confusing. I currently feel as if my world is being turned upside down, but nothing bad has happened. What has happened, is change. Aspies do not do well with change. A lot of change, but all good change. I think part of the reason it's so hard is that the changes are things that I'm not used to.
  Today I went to physical therapy. I really enjoy going to physical therapy because I always feel better when I leave. My PT is also great, understanding, and just gets me for who I am. She doesn't treat me any differently and she doesn't act like I'm weird. She's funny and she treats me just like anyone else. You'd be surprised, but it's pretty hard to find people like that. I've gotten so good at it that I'm normally able to tell if you're going to be my buddy the first time I meet you. Not that I wouldn't kill you with kindness or not, but I may have to work a little harder to interact with you then just being "myself".
   As I stepped into the physical therapy office, I heard someone say hello to me. I was surprised that someone behind the reception desk knew who I was. Well, it was my PT. She stood and talked for a couple of minutes and then she unfortunately informed me that I wouldn't be working with her tonight. CHANGE!!! Did I mention how much I hate change and how much I love consistency.
     I'm also not used to living on my own, which will eventually be another change. Let's be honest! I went to college and I lived in a dorm. When I lived in the dorm, I was fed meals, everything was in walking distance, and my RA was practically like my parent. Wait, I forgot to mention, my parents were also only a phone call away.
       Next week, I'm going to be living alone.....for a week. My parents are flying across the country to a conference. I will be working full-time and I'll actually have to come home and cook myself dinner and clean up after myself! Gasp!!!! Needless to say, I'm overwhelmed. I'm worried about rides and if my rides will get me places on times. I'm worried about cooking meals and not burning the house down. Honestly, I'm worried that my parents are going to come home to a complete disaster. I definitely don't want that to happen.
      While I don't want the house to be a complete disaster, keeping it clean is much easier said than done. You know, because this chic doesn't have very good executive functioning skills. I can't keep my own room clean let alone a whole house. Give me a bunch of storage containers and lids and I about flip out because I don't know where to begin. God only knows how I made it through college with all the tests and projects. That being said, I'm also quite organized when it comes to checking things off a list. If someone emails me, I email them right back as soon as I can. Some people don't seem as organized as they could be. While individuals who have autism are not always organized, they like the rest of the world to be extra organized. While change and organization are hard it's also hard to learn something that you basically had to unlearn.
      While I refuse to go into detail tonight, I had to learn to speak up for myself and understand that I would be heard. Let me makes this straight. I know how to advocate for my needs, but I don't always know how to speak up for myself when something is wrong. Why? Well, when I was in high school other things happened that once again I will not discuss in length. During this strenuous time in high school, I learned that if I spoke up, I would just be told to stay silent and that I was misinterpreting things. If I wasn't told this, I was basically told that not a whole lot could be done.
      On Friday when I even hinted at speaking up for myself, someone actually listened to me. I was so in shock that someone actually took my word for something instead of throwing it to the side as just another thing that Simply J misunderstood. Someone ACTUALLY LISTENED and took action. When action was taken, I was so in shock that tonight I sit here with questions that have yet to be answered. While questions have not been answered, there really is no way to answer them, but to wait. Patience!!!! I'm not very good at patience either!!!
    So I'm mad at the world! I'm mad at the world because the world doesn't always make sense to me. The world makes me anxious and at times can be very illogical. Being illogical doesn't make sense, but tomorrow is going to be a new day and this girl is going to kick ass!!!
   

Pain

     I started Physical Therapy (PT) on Monday for chronic neck and back pain that hasn't gone away since I stopped wearing my backpack. As I explained to my mother how excited I was to feel better, she reminded me to thoroughly answer the questions that the Physical Therapist asked. I thought to myself about how easy that was and that it couldn't be too difficult. When I finally met with PT, I realized just how hard those questions were to answer and just how subjective pain is.
     During my time in OT school, the therapists that shadowed would always ask their patients what their level of pain was on a scale of 1-10. A lot of the time patients would say that their pain was somewhere between 7-9. I truly couldn't imagine how much paint these individuals were in. It scared me to age. I also couldn't ever understand how they could even gauge that.
      Fast forward to Monday where I was asked similar questions. The first questions was, "where is your pain"? Well of course the paint is in my neck, shoulder, and back. If I had to give a rough estimate, I would say the upper left quadrant of my back. That question was easy.
      Then came the questions about my pain level. "On a scale of 1-10, how bad is your pain?" I thought to myself and shared with my therapist that it was probably about a 1 or 2. I thought the questions were done. Then she asked, "On a scale of 1-10, how bad has the pain been at its worst"? I took a minute to think again and then I told her it was probably a 3-4, maybe 2-3. To be perfectly honest, I was scared was scared to answer too low for fear of her thinking that nothing was wrong and I was scared to answer too high for fear that I was being too dramatic. The pain is chronic and bothersome, but it doesn't effect my ability to function. Isn't that enough? She assured me these questions purely for insurance purposes and I totally understood the need to answer them, but what came next through me for a loop.
      After asking various questions about my pain level, then she started to go more in depth. How long have I had this pain? I don't know. It started when I was in college. Well, was it a year ago? 5 years ago? I settled with somewhere around 3 years ago; it wasn't like there was an exact day where I woke up and was in excruciating pain. Then the toughest question of all came. Is the pain a sharp pain? Is the pain an ache? I had no idea how to even begin to answer this question. Isn't pain, just pain? "Well, it sure isn't some dull ache like a pulled muscle, but it sure isn't sharp like someone just stabbed me either" Can't my body just hurt? Then I told her how certain things feel like they were following asleep such as my pinky finger. I also expressed a "burning sensation on my back. She proceeded with he questions, "well is your finger numb?" I told her that it was. Then she asked, "Or is it tingling"? Wait, don't numbness and tingling go hand in hand? What does tingling even mean?
      I never thought their could be so many questions about something I thought was so simple. Answering questions and rating something have never been something that I have been good at. From past experience, breaking a finger rates as a 10 on a scale from 1-10, yet people say that child birth is like breaking 20 bones. What's the difference between numbness and tingling? If you push on something, I'm sure you'll be able to tell if your causing me great pain, purely by the amount of sound that is coming out of my mouth. What do you mean a sharp pain? I mean, I get migraines regularly that start out as a headACHE and then the pain eventually gets sharpER. All I could say is that I was sore. Pain in not a concrete thing and this Aspie doesn't understand things that are not concrete. You may be able to use words asking whether something is this or that, but what if it is neither? What if it just is?

Dear Matt

      I stepped off the elevator and made a sharp right, about to exit the building and head to work. One hundred feet in front of me there was the blurred vision of a man, about 5 foot with a very round face. In the distance, the face looked so familiar, but my mind could not wrap itself around who this “stranger” was. As I tiptoed myself closer, I was able to make out the light brown hair on the sides of his head and the little goatee. “Matt”, I thought to myself, “that isn’t Matt, for this man looks a bit harrier”. I took another ten steps forward as my jaw dropped to the floor. “Oh my God, I don’t know what to say, oh my God”, I shouted as I embraced him arms stretched wide. There was nothing to say; Matt was here, standing right in front of me.

            As the echoes of my shouting made its way through the hall, doors opened and people peaked to see what had just happened. Is she upset? Is everyone okay? Matt, although not working at the time, went into action and quickly moved me to a quieter, less chaotic room. “It’s okay, I’m just stopping through on my way to see my father”, he said. He was quick to assure me that everything was okay and he knew just what to do: distract me, talk to me. Due to the shock of this unfolding situation, there is so much that I feel that I didn’t get to say. When you don’t see or talk to someone who means so much to you, there is a lot to catch up on.

Dear Matt,

       This is a sweet note to you of all the cool stuff that I wish I had told you in that moment I had with you:

·      I’m not only graduating, but I’m graduating with my Bachelor’s degree

·      My brother is doing phenomenal and my mother is healthier than she has been since I was in high school.
·      Eileen graduated in 2016 and is graduating from Salisbury University with her Master’s in May
·      Cathy is the new you. She has your directness, but Amie has your sense of humor. I never imagined being able to find someone who could fill your shoes, but the two of them together do a pretty good job. It’s not that your not awesome, its that I want you to know that I am well cared for and I continue to have the great supports that you gave me while you lived hear. I want you to be able to have a sense of peace knowing I am in good hands.
·      Oh, did I mention that everyone has to come into work at 8 am now? No more sleeping in until 10am
·      As I headed off to work, I forgot to let you know that I got a job with student activities shortly after you left. Sara hooked me up after not getting the Ambassador position as you had suggested.
·      Now I have a table in my common area just for my puzzles. P.S. I’ll never forget when you liked to come up and flip my pieces over, just to annoy me.
·      Benjamin Plum Farm turned into the Acres Project and now we have a house!!! I might even live there.
·      Lastly, I miss you and as Eileen taught me, it’s not goodbye, it’s see you later!

Two Years and Many Life Lessons

     Social skills have never come easy to me, but over the past two years I have been fortunate enough to be surrounded by wise people who have taught me some of the most important lessons regarding social interactions and emotional coping. Last year I lived with an amazing Resident Assistant who taught me multiple lessons and this year I was blessed to have a Resident Coordinator who was wise beyond her years.
     Last year, I was placed in the same pod as an extremely talented and gifted RA named Eileen. Within our wing and floor of the building, there were four other individuals who just so happened to be on the Autism Spectrum. this made for some difficult situations and a lot of intense emotions. What made the situation more complicated was that I lived right across the hall from the individual who I was mentoring through the Office of Disability Services.
     Due to the intense emotions and multiple meltdowns between us, there were a lot of lessons to be learned and Eileen was our leader as we worked through these tough situations. Often times, when there was a rule broken or someone else was upset, I would begin to intervene or get extremely worked up myself. After watching how Eileen would interact with these individuals and myself, I gained a lot of insight. One of the most valuable lessons was taught to me when my mentee would become extremely impulsive or would act out and I immediately wanted to do something about it. Eileen showed me that sometimes others have to work through those situations themselves and those who are on outside should only intervene if someone was in danger or trouble.
     The second thing she taught me was to be quiet and think before I spoke. She was an amazing role model with very few words. It's not that she couldn't speak, but she was able to get her message across with out explaining everything. She taught me that some of the most powerful messages or conversations are conveyed with very few words. This has allowed me to think more before I speak and "dabble" in conversations instead of taking a whole conversation over.
      While Eileen taught me a lot of lessons, my Resident Coordinator taught me some invaluable lessons as well. Given the extreme need to help everyone or "fix" everyone up when they were upset, I would constantly be observing others emotions. One day, as I was sitting in the Residence Life office, my Coordinator Cathy walked in. I could tell that she was stressed, which automatically made me start to worry. I questioned if she was okay and she said something about being tired or stressed. I expressed to her that sometimes I just expect everyone to be happy and I don't like seeing people upset. With this, she made one of the most profound statements I have ever heard. "If you don't have a rough day sometimes, you won't be able to enjoy the good days". This taught to live more in the moment and enjoy the happiness and work through the tougher emotions.
     Later on during the year, I was talking with my coordinator and I had asked her something about what her siblings did for a living. She told me she had no idea, she never asked and didn't really care to know. Originally one would expect that to be a pretty strong statement, but she is the only one in her family who had gone to college. She doesn't worry about others because she worries about herself and what makes her happy. That small statement about how she didn't care what her siblings did for a living, showed me that I can't feed off of what others are feeling or what others are going through. I can care about others, but that doesn't mean I have to feel what they are going through. I need to take care of myself and do what makes me happy before I worry about others. If I have room to worry about others, then I can.
     These last two years have taught me so much about myself and the world around me. I can't wait to see what the next two years have in store.

Socialize With Your Peers They Said

     It shouldn't be a surprise to anyone that I have struggled to socially interact with my peers, my whole life. I can remember back to fifth grade when I would walk around at recess talking to my homeroom teacher Mr. Benson. I don't really remember particulars of our conversations except for the one time when I was talking about the myriad of medical issues/special needs I had and I stated that I have a lot of trouble with my eyes. He told me that he was as blind as a bat and all I could think about was whether or not he had trouble finding his glasses in the morning because he couldn't see anything. As you can tell, I'm quite a literal thinker.
     In middle school I would attempt to play on the playground with my peers, but most of the time it would end in arguments or me thinking that someone was mean to me. When we'd go to the psychologist during seventh grade to figure out the exact disability I had, I remember all the questionnaires my mother and I had to fill out. A lot of them asked if I was ever bullied and my mom would put down that I was quite frequently bullied. I wondered why my mom kept saying I was being bullied. I just knew what he nice kids were and who the mean kids were. There were just some kids I didn't get along with. What I didn't realize was that those mean kids were bullies.
     As I continued through middle school, I would start to walk around the circular path on the playground talking with teachers. They would try and make small talk with me which I just didn't get. They were bound to fix me so that I interact and socialize with my peers. They wanted me to get along with my peers despite the face that I was years ahead of them in some areas and years behind them in other areas.
     When I arrived in high school, my family physician referred me to a psychologist who promptly diagnosed me with an anxiety disorder and referred me to a wonderful school psychologist who he aptly described as an Autism specialist that was new to our area. Once the new school psychologist Dr. Hunter got to know me, she really reinforced these ideas these ideas that I needed to develop peer relationships and stressed the importance that nothing should limit me. She was also the one that gave my parents hope that I would make it to college and where I am today.
     All throughout high school Dr. Hunter stressed the importance of building these peer relationships. My parents jumped not he band wagon then too. They continuously encouraged me to make friends. At one point it came to the fact that I just needed to stop talking about my disability. At that point, I was too far gone and I was determined to teach others about my condition.
     As high school continued, the encouragement persisted as well. When I was in eleventh grade, I joined a transition class and started working on some seriously independent living skills. During this period of time, my peer relationships started to flourish some more. The problem was that everyone wanted me to be typical and make typical peers. All the friends I was making had special needs as well. Most had disabilities that were much more severe than mine. I kept insisting that I was making friends, but my family wanted me to be making typically developing friends as well. It just didn't happen.
     Here I am now, at 1:45 in the morning during my senior year of college. I am 23 and currently living in a building with a bunch of college Freshman. You do the math. As I sit here and reflect, I keep reinforcing myself that I can't keep socializing with the adults on the college campus. I have become relatively close with the Residence Life staff here and they have greatly contributed to my success. The one staff member has volunteered to assist me in developing some more independent living skills as I work on moving towards graduating and living independently.
      I sit here at 23 years of age, trying to figure out who the heck I'm supposed to socialize with. My Resident Coordinator is 24, one year older than I am. The students I'm living with are 18. I'm forced into this position of having to socialize with my peers, these 18 year olds who I live amongst. Really, are they my peers though, or are these staff members I work with on a daily basis my peers. I want so badly to just be friends with my Residence Hall Coordinator, but that's not professional on her part. Although it's not professional on her part, is it really fair on my part? Who are my peers? Who am I supposed to socialize with? As my mom says, I'm an adult now, it's okay to socialize with adults. It's okay to socialize with adults, but what if you have the maturity of the adults in your life, but your at a different part of your life.
     All the girls around me are all about parties and doing there homework last minute. I'm all about working on puzzles, scrapbooking, taking hikes, having real conversations about real things, not boys. Although boys are nice, I'm about living my life to the fullest and following God's path for me. I'm about being me, not about figuring out so much who I am any more.

Fighting Tornadoes

   After a long day of dr. appt.'s for my mother on Tuesday, my parents decided to stop by and visit me at school before they headed home. We enjoyed a nice late lunch/dinner together at my favorite restaurant, Kimball's and then headed out to Walmart to grab some last minute items that I needed for my dorm and my classes. Our visit with each other concluded with the always popular trip to Eder's, our favorite ice cream place.

     Prior to leaving Kimball's it began to rain pretty hard. We waited inside until the rain subsided enough for me to make it to the car. For those of you who don't know, I can't stand the feeling of rain on my skin. It's one of the various sensory issues that I have because of the Asperger's Syndrome. Typically when  sound bothers me, it hurts my ears, but when a tactile feeling irritates me, my shoulders and arms begin to hurt. I try to avoid this at all cost. 

     As we left Kimball's in our car, it was evident that a huge storm had just passed as the sky was extremely dark. While we made our journey to Walmart and eventually Eder's, I repetitively checked the weather and asked my father if we were heading towards the storm or away from the storm. He continued to reassure me that we were not going in the same direction as the storm. Despite this reassurance from my father, I continued to be on edge until we got to Walmart. I kindly asked my father to let me and my mother out at the front door so that I could avoid the rain. He's a good daddy. 

     As we pulled up to the front door, it was in question as to whether the store was even open. We saw lights on inside, which meant the power wasn't out. On the other hand, the automatic doors were not working and there was a line to get in the store. With hesitation, my mother and I stepped out of the car and proceeded to enter the store. As we entered the store we were educated about the current tornado warning for the area and that we must head to the toy section as there would be absolutely no shopping at this time. Who doesn't want to goof off in the toy section of Walmart? 

     My mother and I entered Walmart and we were fortunate enough to have our cell phones with us. We called my father to let him know what was going on because he was obviously going to be curious as to why there was limited access to the store as well. We told him there was a tornado warning and to head in and go back to the toy section. My father told us that we should get out to the car and we would go somewhere else for the supplies. My parents live and hour and a half from school and they really needed to get home. 

     My father pulled up to the from of Walmart and we got in. As we left the Walmart parking lot my mother picked up not he fact that I was beginning to stim. She asked me if I wanted Eder's ice cream after all. All I could get out of my mouth was that I was sorry that I was stemming and there wasn't really any other option for us at that point. I also pointed out that I liked Eder's as I continued to apologize. My mother abruptly corrected my behavior by letting me know it was okay, but that she didn't need to hear about it. 

     By the time we got to Eder's and ate our yummy ice cream, the storms had passed. We decided we would head back to Walmart to grab the things we needed. As we were walking through Walmart I let my mother know what exactly I needed/wanted. As I expressed my wants and needs, my mother told me to stop talking like a baby. To this comment, I wasn't completely shocked, but I was surprised. I told her that I couldn't help, I wasn't talking like a baby, and that my brain was under a lot of stress. 

     If you have taken any Psychology or health classes, you would have learned about the fight or flight response. Typically my response is more of a flight response with the wonderful added meltdown. Since there wasn't room to flee, burn of energy or throw myself into this meltdown, it came out as swimming and baby talking. I wasn't crying and I was proud of myself. As far as I could tell, I was keeping my shit together. Unfortunately, the brain can only handle so much stress before it starts to shut down. In this particular case, my brain was essentially shutting down on me. 

     When my mother told me that I was talking like a baby, I was really offended because I was aware of what I was doing and it did sound weird, but I couldn't help it. At that moment I was feeling Autistic (refer to blog post titled, I Feel Autistic). When I feel Autistic, I kind of zone out. I don't mind listening to other people, but I don't want to talk, myself. It's not that talking is painful, but it just feels uncomfortable and like it's not the right thing to do. If I really wanted to interact like a typical person during these times, I probably could, but it may cause me to go into meltdown mode because there is too much effort for what typically comes natural when you brain is in this shut down mode.

     Most of you are probably wondering what my mother meant when she said that I was talking like a baby. What essentially happened was that my brain was only able to produce the bare minimum that it needed to, to get my point across. For example, instead of saying, "I really like that binder with the puppies on it", I would say point and say, "that want, I like doggies". We also had to do some grocery shopping so as we walked through the aisles, instead of saying, "I need Poptarts", I would say, "portraits". I give the most minimal answer I would give in with a flat affect because it didn't take effort and was less stress on my brain. Now typically I have no problem with affect and it comes naturally, but when part of your brain is shut down like that it's different.

     After explaining all of this to my mother, I just wanted something to calm me down. I needed a reboot. It felt really uncomfortable. My head didn't want to think and my hurt. I just wanted a hug, a weighted blanket, or to even just zone out, but I couldn't in the middle of Walmart. Fortunately, when we got back to my dorm, I was able to calm down under my weighted blanket as I watched tv and relaxed. By the evening I was ready to have fun again with friends. Granted, I took a two hour evening nap, but that nap gave my brain the reboot it needed. 

5 hours of friendship

     As I sat in my fathers recliner relaxing for the night, I began to right a Facebook post using the "Feeling" option that Facebook lets you choose. Do you know what I'm talking about? There's one for feeling, watching, reading and the list goes on. As I bunched in "Feeling" into my status updated, I began to type in the search menu "Defeated" because quite honestly I was feeling quite defeated at the moment. I was about to write one of those whiny Facebook status' where I complain about all of my life problems from the day and then end it with some sappy comment remember those who were killed in Orlando, just to make it sound like I cared about something. In all honesty, I do care about others and I think that status I was going to right was to remind myself that things could be so much worse. 

      Shortly after typing in the status, I read it over and realized that there was no way I was going to post that to Facebook at such a sensitive time. There was no way I could complain to such a wide audience when there was and still is so much pain in this world. It just didn't feel right and trust me I do feel bad for those that were lost, those that are suffering, and all the loved ones who may be affected from this tragedy. 

     I looked back on my day and I realized how truly great my day really was. Yes, there were parts that sucked from sun up to sun down: a migraine to start the morning, a potentially great interview that went horribly wrong, battling a cold and allergies on top of everything else and not mention that my world is probably going to be flipped upside down tomorrow, but that's another story for another day. 

     On the other hand, some really great things happened today and I think we need to focus on those. My mother always taught me that someone always has it worse than us. I truly do believe that. The other day we ran into a friend at the grocery store that was telling us that sometimes we really need to just feel things and that maybe things aren't worse for others. I have to say I disagree. I think it is important to feel your emotions and then look at the grand scheme of things. 

     Today was a great day. As I stood outside the facility where I interviewed I made a few phone calls. One was to an acquaintance/friend who I knew from a  previous place of employment, one was my mother to tell her how awful the interview went and the other was to let someone know that I had the interview and that I didn't think things would work out or that the outcome was not what the two of us had expected. My mom pulled up with Excedrin in hand as I talked to my friend on the phone about getting together. We decided that instead of having my friend pick me up from the interview my mother would drive me to a near by park. this was at about 10 or 10:30 this morning. We didn't leave each other until 3:30 or 4. 

     5 hours! 5 hours of socializing something without becoming emotionally and socially fatigued. 5 hours of conversations, giggling, and bursting out in song. I literally thought we were going to chill for a bit, go out to eat and then part our ways so I could go into work to get some stuff done. I called my boss/teacher to tell her I was grabbing a bite to eat and I'd be in and she conveniently had to leave at 1 instead of 2:30. I was supposed to work for two hours and it was already noon. We decided we would sit down somewhere nice to eat instead of grabbing fast-food. This turned into hours more of fun. 

     During our time together we sat by the creek at the park, grabbed McDonald's sweet teas, visited my cats at home, ate lunch, played mini golf, visited a local ice cream place where we used to work, and we went goodwill shopping. I would have to say that I think this is friend that I hung out with today was a true friend. My mother has always talked to me about acquaintances, friends and best friends. I'm pretty sure Amber will go down in the book as my first true friend. This was the first time I wasn't with someone else who had a disability for a long period of time. This was the first time I hung out with someone without telling them to go away or that it was time to leave because I was tired. After five horus of my my friend called the shots. I felt typical. For the first time in my life I felt like I had a typical interaction with a friend, a typical friendship. 

Reflection on World Autism Awareness Day!

As I settle down for the evening I reflect on the events that today has brought. Today was World Autism Awareness Day. I have very conflicting thoughts on this day. Today, I was on the streets handing out bracelets to light it up blue for autism, which in turn helps support Autism Speaks. Autism Speaks created the campaign that allowed World Autism Awareness Day to exist. Do I believe in everything that happens with Autism Speaks? No. Do I support Autism Speaks? Well, I'd like to say that I don't, but when there is not other organization that promotes the awareness and acceptance of Autism that will reach a large public audience, I have no other choice but to "partner with them.

Being an Autistic individual, it truly hurts have an organization that believes that we can't speak for ourselves. Granted, there are some people that can't speak for themselves, but an individual with Asperger's is going to be able to explain Autism a heck of a lot better than someone who is neurotypical. If one does not live the life, how can one know what we want and need?


Today I lit it up blue, not for Autism Speaks, but for The ACRES Project, which is something near and dear to my heart. We have a voice and ACRES is listening.

Transition Bootcamp

     Have you ever worked out because you wanted to lose weight? I know I have before and shortly after I begin, I become less motivated to work out. When you become motivated again, you begin to realize that maybe you need something a little bit harsher because you need to lose even more weight. Sometimes, transition is like that too.
     Last year, I had some difficult experience with my living situation in the dorm.  I had a personality clash with my RA and my Resident Coordinator moved midway through the year. I don't do well with these transitions. As these things popped up, I began to develop a healthy and professional relationship with E, one of the other RA's on staff. I had known E since the beginning of my college experience at this particular school and I began to trust her with deep stuff. I often times tell people that she knows my deepest, darkest secrets. Unfortunate, for me, E is graduating this year and moving on to bigger and better things.
     Over the course of the past year, I have begun to depend on E for a lot of things. I have trusted her with more information about my personal life than I share with most people. She has been my main support at college. She helped me with the difficult RA situation, helped me through some tough times, helped me transition to a new coordinator and so much more. Most importantly, she has mentored me and taught me so much about myself. With E leaving, I need to start bootcamp. I need to lose those extra pounds of weight I've pack on. I need to lose the dependency that I have developed with her.
     Over the last 8 weeks of the fall semester, I realized my dependency and my manipulative behavior. I knew that if I was upset, she would be there for me. Sometimes I would get upset, when I knew how to cope with things, because I knew she would pat me on the back so to speak. Once I noticed this, I started going to the gym. I started practicing shutting my door more often so I wasn't fixated on where she was and if she was around. I began trying to skip days of seeing her because I knew that one day she wouldn't be around. Going to the gym, or practicing these new skills wore me out. I just wanted E and I wanted her in the moment. I wanted her to play Wii with me, watch movies, with me and eat with me. This battle reigns within me and I know that she is a student who needs to take care of herself  too. I care about her needs, but since I do care about her, I also want more of her.
       With all this being said, it's time to stop going to the gym and start bootcamp. I have eight weeks to lose this "weight". I have eight weeks to show the world what I am truly made of. I have eight weeks to transition E out of my DAILY life and it needs to begin right now. The most unfortunate part is knowing that I'm not the only person struggling. I think the college or at least ResLife as a whole are truly going to miss this unique, one of a kind individual who has the patients of an angel.
      This semester, instead of going to her when I'm upset, I will refuse to meet with her until the next day for breakfast or lunch. E has taught me that I am so much better at reflecting anyway. I will try hanging out with the other RA's more, boosting my trust in them as competent individuals, and I will continue to practice my coping skills. I can't wait to push myself and show the world what I'm truly made of.

Happy New Year: 2016

     2014 was an extremely difficult year me and my family. At the end of 2014 and at the beginning of 2015, I decided to take a look back at all the good things that had happened. This year, as we rang in 2016, I told my mother that I didn't want it to be 2016. I didn't want 2015 to end because it was such a great year and so much better than the year before. If we stayed in 2015, I felt like things would continue to go smoothly, but its as if changing to 2016 means a new year and also a different year that could be good or bad. So, here's to a recap of 2015 and a celebration of a great start to 2016!

     Shortly after I arrived back at school for the Spring 2015 semester, I received an email stating that I was nominated by someone at my school for an Awesome Woman Exemplar Award. We had a beautiful ceremony and we all got to celebrate the many awesome women on our campus.

     Although my brother and I have gotten older, we still really enjoy meeting up with family friends to decorate Easter eggs. This year we had several generations coloring eggs: Grandparents, parents, children, and grandchildren.

     No one knows who to celebrate April Fools Day and Hump Day like my school! This year, one of the major clubs on campus decided to celebrate the occasion of both by bringing in a camel for camel rides. Needless to say no one believed us and thought our photos were photoshopped. They thought it was all a joke, but it was real.

     My parents decided to go away to a bed and breakfast for their anniversary. During their weekend getaway, they decided to rent some bikes and bike a rails to trails path. Needless to say, they really enjoyed it and when I came home from school, we decided to do it a couple more times. We all really enjoy biking now.

     During the month of July, my town turns into a large tourist destination with large arts festivals. One of the arts festivals sticks to more local artists who are only from in state. This gave me a great opportunity to see a singer who was one of my favorite parts of Camp Chameleon growing up. She would bring her guitar to camp and sing songs around the camp fire. Seeing her perform at the arts fest, gave us a test of what she likes to do for adults. It was still really good to see her and she remembers me from camp.

     I've never been one for really long hair. Right before school started in August, I decided to get all my hair chopped off. I really like it and I think I'm going to keep it this length for a while.

   
     Two days before I had to move into the Residence Hall, we took trip to NYC to see a play on Broadway. It was pretty cool to see the NYC skyline as we entered the city. We even got a personal tour guy (my mothers friend) who helped us navigate the city. He even gave us a VIP trip to the top of the Empire State Building. I must admit, I was also pretty excited to get a new pair of Crocs at a legit Crocs store too.

     What better way to start the semester off than by going to your favorite ice cream place with some of your best buds and the most AWESOME RA someone could ask for! This trip was planned the previous school year and promised to me. We ended up getting most of our floor to go and some RA's after so many of us ended up moving in so early! :) Thanks E we're are really going to miss you!!!

     This year I got a job with Student Activities which has been wonderful! Before my first shift at work, one of my supervisors caught me on my way to class and allowed me to show my silly side. He thought it would be a great idea to show my mom that I was really on my way to class. It was my FIRST DAY of OT CLASSES!!! :)

     September came up pretty quickly and my family FINALLY moved into the new house! We love it and it is so cozy. Although I wasn't at the house for the moving part, I was there in spirit. Despite my difficulty with change, it was a rather smooth process with daily visits to the new house before I actually moved in. I don't think I could ask for a better room; it's purple!

     After our move, I finally managed to get my parents up to Camp Victory! They were having an open house and I said, why not? It was a good day to get away and enjoy some time as a family and one of my homes away from home where I can truly be me. I also introduced someone to Asperger's who had never heard of it before.

     October and midterms came around. My parents were finally able to get away on a vacation by themselves and with my grandmother. In the meantime, a good family friend had the opportunity to bring her grandson up to visit my school during our open house! It was a pretty cool experience and they got to meet some of my friends.

     October is typically a busy month and includes a bunch of fun as well. My LLC went on an awesome hiking trip. We were fortunate enough to enjoy a picnic at one of our mentor's house's who lives out in the middle of no where. Across the street from her house is a huge shale cliff that we climbed. We love going on adventures.

     November brought with it an awesome opportunity for my mother and I. We had the privilege of getting amazing seats at a Matthew West concert! Matthew West came up to me, wrapped his arm around my waste, put the microphone in front of my mouth and posed for a picture. I couldn't have been more giddy and I really didn't know what to do.

     The school year concluded with an awesome school dance with my buddy Caleb and my friend/RA Eileen! I was super nervous to go to the dance without friends, but C is really good at swing dancing and taught me a little bit about it.

     Some crazy weather we've had this year. We were fortunate enough to wear t-shirts to go pick out our Christmas tree. With my brothers fascination with tie-dye, we made it a tie-dye t-shirt trip! We had a lot of fun!

     Just like last year, I rang in the New Year at Radiate, the Mid-Atlantic Regional Cru Conference! There was so much learning and growing and socializing with friends. We truly had a blast!!!