>The irony drives me crazy (you know, for as often as I say that things “drive me crazy,” you’d think that I’d be nothing short of insane by now….).
Story 1: I love church, but I hate to go. I know, don’t try to make sense out of that, but both statements are completely true. I know how much I need it every week, but every week, I say that I don’t feel like it. It’s so much sitting still, the lights in church are weird, I don’t like the air, so many people, people who try to talk to me… blah. And an hour and a half is quite a lot of listening for my ears. One week, I was having a particularly hard time sitting through the service, so I grabbed a little, one-inch-diameter, crappy imitation of a Koosh ball out of my pocket to play with. Busy fingers = less stimming, and stimming happens when I’m tired of listening (or stressed, or excited, or can’t get words out, or happy…). Anyway, my little purple Koosh ball was doing its job. I can’t say that I heard much of the sermon, but I was quiet and relatively still. Later, in the car, Leigh (who says it’s okay that I use her first name and call her my “best friend” on here) said, “I can’t believe that old guy was being so rude.” Apparently, the, ahem, older gentleman sitting in front of us kept looking back and turning around and whatnot.
Story 2: I spent college getting in trouble with professors. There were a lot of problems with me coming across as rude, acting as if I thought I knew better, uncaring, etc. Being an education major, that didn’t fly. I have been called “the most disgusting individual I’ve ever come into contact with,” unprofessional, unfit for being a role model, inconsiderate, and my mom’s parenting abilities were brought up more than once.
Story 3: Last week, I was sitting in the kitchen at partial eating lunch. It started off as just B and I, someone I talked to frequently. Over time, more and more people came in, until there were 6 or 7 and things were pretty noisy. Another woman sat across the table from me and sort of invited herself into our conversation. I was having a really, really hard time focusing and talking. I knew that B is understanding, though, and she waited patiently while I got distracted and frustrated and tried to find my words again. The other woman asked if there was a problem. B said something like, “She has autism. It’s noisy in here, so it takes her a minute to think clearly. Just hang on.” The woman (also in the program) said, “WOW! You’re autistic? Really?! I can’t believe that! You do so well!”
Too weird to be normal, but too normal to be weird. Really?