“Carved in Sand” by Cathryn Jakobson Ramin

Recently, I read the book, Carved in Sand: When Attention Fail and Memory Fades in Midlife. Cathryn Jakobson Ramin, Harper, New York, 2007, which is a very good book.  The author is an investigative jounalist who improved her mental functioning with various interventions, including digital brain exercises, meditation, drugs, and hormones.  After 10 interventions, her forgetfulness decreased and also gained more energy.  Environmental effects including diet, intoxication, polution, and genetic volnerability are well covered.  She delved into the research of brain trauma, forgetfulness and dementia.  She included profiles of several people who had experienced mental decline starting at middle age.  Like me, the author has prosopagnosia and short working memory so I could relate to her very well.  I enjoyed this book very much as I am very interested in biology and psychology.

Add comment July 23, 2008 dithorsos
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Marriage and Soul Exploration (part 3)

In Seattle during the winter of 1987 I attended a festival of various products used in healing by practitioners of the New Age movement.  There were books, tapes, dietary supplements, music performances, and psychics.  I stayed away from the latter as they charged too much for their services which might be without any good value.  I enjoyed the music the most–predominately contemporary and meditative.  I filled out all prize drawings that were available for the product promotions.  It was a good thing that I had entered them as I was informed at a later date that I had won a cassette tape of subliminal messages hidden amid recorded sounds of soothing ocean waves.

I was given a choice of the available selections and options to purchase additional ones.  For my free one, I choose one for appetite or hunger control for my eating disorder.  I ordered two additional ones–on healing and health.  I was very curious and hopeful as to how much effect the subliminal messages would have.  They are based upon the premise that the unconscious mind could hear and receive influences from hidden suggestions even though they are inaudible to the conscious mind.  I played these tapes mostly during meditation.  From another company, I purchased several other tapes for self-hypnosis on selected topics: healing, more restful or efficient sleep, and relaxing the eyes for Kris.  Kris’ eyes tended to get tired very easily after working all day looking at the computer screen from eyestrain.  Due to the fragile condition of his eyes, he was more vulnerable.  I wanted to combine several methods in hope of better results.

After listening to my therapeutic tapes for a while I began to notice that I had gained a greater positive attitude in my health and had fewer negative thoughts about it.  I had become more relaxed and my attention span had continued to increase.  I began to avoid situations where food temptation was too great especially late at night when digestion enters the lowest ebb.  This was an influencing factor to leave the Sri Chinmoy Centre where over eating so late into the evening was difficult to resist.  Though I wasn’t by any means cured, I continued to make some progress though very gradually.

To further my soul searching and explore things in Seattle, I attended various churches and organizations.  One fall day in 1986 as I was driven through the north Capitol Hill area, close to the University Bridge, I discovered the Vedanta Society (Hindu sect) that met late Sunday mornings in an old house with live-in quarters for the caretakers.  About a hundred people attended the weekly services, many of who came from India.  After a few hours of service and study of the scriptures, we had a potluck feast mostly of Indian cuisine.  Since I lived about three miles from there, I often walked to get some exercise.  After attending regularly for several months during the first part of 1987, I stopped going because I felt that too much time was being spent on the doctrines.  This had been an established religion for millenniums and some of the teachings were very valid.  By the time I finished lunch there it would already be mid afternoon.

Shortly after I left the Sri Chinmoy Centre, I had checked out the Unity Church that was only a mile from me.  It was located in the Denny-Regrade area near downtown Seattle.  I had received the idea from two women from the meditation center who also went, but for different services.  It was a huge church, with three services on Sundays that was basically a blend of Christianity with some Eastern beliefs.  I mostly attended the earliest service so I would have enough time to walk to other things in Capitol Hill.

Organized by a few women from Unity church was the Women’s Spirit Circle that met at the church fellowship hall one Saturday morning a month.  I began to attend during the summer of 1988 as a opportunity to meet more people over a potluck breakfast with a variety of activities: dance, crafts, introduction to Native American spiritual practices and meditations with spiritual exercises.  We also had guest speakers on topics of general spiritual issues and personal experiences.  I was enthusiastic about the meetings for over a year until the spring of 1990 when I had gained as much from the activities as I wanted and needed to get away from the constant temptation of the food that hindered my spiritual growth.

I also explored several religious organizations, including Buddhism, Quakerism, and Judaism of which is discussed in greater details in another chapter.

 

In addition to practices for my spiritual health, I had searched for additional things for my physical health–pure filtered water, filtered air, and organically grown produce.  I had articles about the increasing contamination of tap water.  During the mid eighties, Kris and I had purchased an elaborate water filtration system with carbon-based and resin-based filters that were installed under our kitchen sink with a separate faucet that ran from the top.

A few years later during the late eighties, we had also bought the state-of-the-art large air filter device and an air ionizer we placed upstairs.  We used it when the air quality was at it worst.  We didn’t like using it too much as it made a lot of noise from the fan.  The ionizer created negatively charged ions into the air for a greater calming effect.  We kept it on all the time since it was quiet.  Positively charged ions tend to create higher levels of agitation or anxiety.

During the winter of 1987, I went to a few meetings and demonstrations about the healthful benefits of growing and consuming organically grown produce.  Since this movement of reviving the more natural means of farming without use of any pesticides or artificial fertilizers was just beginning, the availability of organic fruits and vegetables were still very limited.  Shopping at health food grocers for fresh food wasn’t convenient.  The only way that I could obtain a steady supply of organically grown foods was to grow them myself.  At one of the meetings in early February, I had picked up an application for a pea patch in Seattle and sent it off.

I was very lucky to be given a year-round plot at the University community garden by March as the spaces began to fill up very fast.  It was conveniently located close to the University of Washington where there was frequent bus service from our home.  I wanted to do gardening year round as many things–especially the hardy greens and the root crops–grow well during the winters in the Pacific Northwest and harvest fresh vegetables all year.

We didn’t need to start completely from nothing since they were already a few crops–beets, parsley, calendulas, Greek oregano, and tulips–in my pea patch.  I planted several of the traditional vegetables–carrots, chards, lettuce, and peas–from free seeds from the Seattle Pea Patch program.  I also transplanted several things such as cosmos, mints, sage, lemon balm, and tomatoes.

Shortly after I began to take care of a garden I learned about the edible weeds–chickweed, lamb quarters, dandelion, sheep sorrel, purslane, Sheppard’s purse, and sow thistle–which grow well in our climate.  One woman, who also had a pea patch in our community gardens, pointed out the chickweeds.  I should have eaten the good plants that I had pulled up.  I learned to identify most of the common edible weeds from books I had purchased.

Throughout the warmer months of the year when it tended to be dryer and there was more work to do at my garden I went to my pea patch twice a week after work plus Sundays straight from the University Friends Meeting.  Kris sometimes had helped me by picking up the steer manure fertilizer and watering the garden on the weekends whenever I was away.  Whenever we were both away on vacation for a week during the summer, we had people from our community garden water for us.  I generally was very meticulous about pulling out every little weed I saw since the plots were required to be kept up well. 

I received so much enjoyment from tending the garden.  Even though it was an added responsibility, it was a relaxing type of work.  This provided me with very meditative opportunities to commune with nature.  I was able to admire the beauty of the leaves, buds, flowers, insects, and butterflies.  I took delight in the patterns of the shapes, colors, textures, and the movements–all this with the bonus of reaping the harvests of fresh organically grown vegetables.

 

Even while I was in food service, I kept contact with the autism community.  The first project I became involved with was the Autism Task Force of about fifteen other members.  The group comprised of people from different backgrounds–professionals, parents, and individuals with autism.  We met about six times throughout 1986 through the analysis of where services were needed the most in the community.  There was a great need of services such as respite care, training in schools and businesses and employment opportunities.

A few years later in July of 1989, when the Autism Society of America had it’s annual conference in Seattle, I attended a few evening events and the two last sessions the final afternoon.  At the auction fund-raiser I purchased a few items.  Duane and Katie, former director of WPAS had tickets for Kris and me to attend the awards banquet that happened to take place on my thirty-second birthday.  Bessie, whom I had stayed with in White Center during the early eighties, sat next to us and drove us home.

The last session before the banquet was a panel on several personal perspectives on autism from service providers, parents, and an individual with the disability.  It was inspiring to hear people present their personal experiences.  This was a welcome addition to the conference that wasn’t included at the Boston one that I went to eight years earlier.

I met a few other adults with autism.  One short and slim woman, with an ebullient smile, was very excited to meet me as someone who could better able understands first hand her disability.  I was also very thrilled at meeting someone with autism who had done so well.  Kathy L. was a very bright young woman who had graduated from college in political science with a great interest in Soviet studies.  She was very articulate and focused very well on her main interest, Soviet or Russian culture.  She had a job and was able to support herself.  When she told me that her autism was the result of her mother contacting Rubella while she was pregnant, I was surprised as she was so different and much less disabled than Bea’s stepdaughter who had multiple disabilities from Rubella in uterus.

Kathy L. needed help in getting around Seattle to go sightseeing.  I was able take her around since I was free on that Saturday.  We went to the Seattle Center to go up the Space Needle and to the Bite of Seattle festival which coincided very well with our plans for lunch.  She just wanted pizza with which she was very familiar.  From there I took her to the Ballard Locks that didn’t interest her, unlike most tourists, who think is the main attraction of the area.  We walked by the Ballard sidewalk sale with a booth that sold a Scandinavian flag to her.  She collected flags of around the world.  Though I wasn’t a very good tour guide, it was a good opportunity to become more acquainted with each other.

During the late eighties, I was involved with some publicity on autism on television and newspapers.  On August 3, 1988, I appeared on a panel with two parents of children with autism on the Seattle Today Show on KING TV5.  I wore the business suit that I had made a few years earlier and walked to the TV studio since I was so close.  I presented myself very well as the format was of questions and answers which were very general and relatively easy to answer.  We had friends record a video for use to watch and to send to my mother.

 Several months later, Nancy Bartley, a staff reporter from the Seattle Times came to our place to interview me for an article on autism that was printed on January 5, 1989:

 

                                Deborah Thorsos is a trim, 31-year-old brunette, who when nervous speaks haltingly and twines her hair around her fingers.  She is married, a member of Toastmasters, a graduate of the University of Maryland, an avid gardener and hiker.

 

                                In a Capitol Hill condominium Deborah Thorsos, 31, reclines on a sofa in a living room banked with plants.  She is a success story.  Only 5 percent of autistic people are able to function at her level, Reichler said.

                                She didn’t learn to speak until she was 5.  She had difficulty understanding language and was prone to fits of anger during which she would throw books out the window.

                                She was sent to a school for developmentally handicapped children and began the slow steady progress that took her not only through high school but through the University of Maryland.  She graduated with a fine-arts degree and a minor in biology.

                                Four years ago, she married Kris Thorsos, 34, whom she met on the bus on the way to a party. After confirming that they were bound for the same address, Thorsos, who lost his sight after a childhood illness, told her: “I’ll show you the way.”

                                They say they’ve been an inseparable couple since.

                                Kris Thorsos works for the Social Security Administration, and Deborah works as a food-services clerk for Boeing’s Renton plant.

                                While some family members had initial hesitation when they decided to marry, they’ve since received both families’ support.  They also decided not to have children.

                                “I was afraid of passing down the tendency toward autism,” Deborah Thorsos said. “I would be afraid. It would be sad for the child to go through the same suffering I did.”

                                She recalls feelings of inferiority and incredible frustration at not being able to understand or communicate and the years it took to break through the invisible barrier that separated her from the rest of her world.

                                Autism’s traces linger in her sometimes halting speech, the slight nervous rocking and the winding of her dark hair through her fingers.

                                She has battled the obsessive/ compulsive behavior that often comes with autism and now is obsessed only with building her health.

                                She dabbles in astrology, Buddhism, meditation, healing with crystals and is happiest when working in her county-provided pea-patch garden or daydreaming, watching sea gulls pinwheel across the sky from her living-room window.

                                “There was something about her I can’t explain that turned me on to her,” her husband said from his office. “She’s very warm, very loving.  I remember thinking at the beginning it was a challenge, that by loving her things would work out.  And they did.”

A while after the article was out, an attractive middle-aged woman with a mild case of autism, from north of Seattle read about me in the newspaper and wrote me a letter with her phone number.  I called her and invited her to our place several times.  We had some common interests such as hiking and meditation.  She had worked with some people on self-hypnoses with use of self-guided imagery.  She did it to me for a few minutes during each visit.  As I was prone and relaxed, I described the meditative images of nature.  She didn’t charge me anything.  It was fun becoming acquainted with a reader with a similar type of disability.

 

A few times during the summer of 1989, the local of my food service union offered free to the union members seminars on Excellency that were recorded on videos.  I took the September class that met a total of four evenings during the week.  It was held at the Edgewater Inn with dinner included.  After we watched the videos we were given worksheets and had discussion with the black facilitator.  He shared his inspiring story of overcoming great challenges from being a troubled boy in Detroit with time spent in jail.  He turned his whole life around after taking the seminar on excellence and began conducting it.

The workshops were based on the premise that low self-esteem could result from negative programming into the subconscious that in turn could prevent us from rising above ourselves to achieve excellence or what we really want.  I had received negative input in my subconscious from many sources throughout my childhood which had affected me into my adulthood: “I’m autistic so therefore I’m not normal and can’t do some things as normal children could do and can’t always go to school with them.”

These negative messages, which become embedded in our being, adversely affect self-images of our bodies and our minds.  For example, for years I had seen myself as mostly a big organism with very large breasts and a big stomach.  Besides being slightly overweight, such attributes were greatly accentuated by poor posture.  I received encouragement and hope that if I released that image of myself and replaced it with an agile woman with good posture and a flat stomach, my goals would become more obtainable.

I was instructed to write down all of my goals and meditate on them just before I drifted off to sleep while in bed when the subconscious tend to be the most receptive.  It was no wonder why I had kept failing to modify some behaviors such as over eating as I kept clinging to the same negative patterns.  I was determined to change though it still wasn’t easy and it was a long slow process–like peeling many layers of a big onion.  This was helped by my meditation.  I vowed to overcome my eating disorder and gain control over food rather than letting it control me.

 

After my good friend, Dani, had surgery to remove her cancer from the abdominal area and stayed home, I called her frequently to offer her as much encouragement as possible with healing words.  She had radiation and chemotherapy since she had some spots that had spread to her spine that couldn’t be operated on.  She apparently had had the cancer for over five years.  I only was able to see her once during her illness since most of the time her immune system was too deficient for exposure to the outside world.  Despite her strong faith in religion and adaptation to the more healthful macrobiotic diet prescribed by a naturopath, she wasn’t able to fight the cancer and had passed away during the summer of 1989.  Though, I missed her, I felt that she would rest in peace and than be well taken care of.

 

During autumn of 1989 when Boeing mechanics, which made up the bulk of the workers, went on strike, I volunteered to stay home during the walkout after I was at work on the first day of it and saw how little there was to do.  I wanted to give my co-workers, who needed to work more than I, more of a chance especially as I knew that I would be out only temporarily.  I was ready for a vacation and thought it would be fun to stay home for a little while and catch up on some things.

During the first week I went on a long fast to detoxify my system.  I was highly motivated to improve my health and stamp out my eating disorder and grabbed at the opportunity to do so with the time off.  By the end of the week I felt very good, the best I ever had, and even lost some weight.  Not that thinness should be equated with health.  When I resumed eating I began to reduce going on binges.  I was on the road to recovery.

 

Since I had all the time off, I decided that it would be a good time to take a bus further out and attend Eastside Friends Meeting in Bellevue for a change.  I wanted to explore the area around it and I also wanted to become more acquainted with the people I met on the weekend retreats (quarterly meeting).

I made a very good friend there, who came from a highly educated family.  Terry R. was married with a twelve-year-old son and lived in Bellevue.  I told her about my background in autism and we hit it off very well.  We visited each other regularly and I met her mother who was an artist.  We also exchanged small gifts.  I was so happy to have met Terry that I had continued going to Eastside Friends even after I was back at work when the strike was settled.  I sometimes visited her when I had days off from food service.

 

About a month into the Boeings strike, I began to miss work with regular contact with people and the structure of the work.  Even though I kept mingling with friends at community activities, I felt a need to be with other people, besides my husband, at least a few times a week.  Though I had never got bored or ran out of things to do at home, I thrived on the structure of knowing what to do without thinking about it.  I lacked a solid plan for major projects and the self-discipline to get them accomplished which are required for working at home.  Besides, I needed the income from my job. 

When the mechanist strike was settled after eight weeks by the end of November, I was much more appreciative of my job when I returned to work even though there was less and less for me to do due to the restructuring of the plant.  I was happy to see my co-workers again and felt that they were glad to see me.

 

After I had filled in as the dish person for a month, during the winter of 1990, there was even less for me to do.  Often before lunch my duties would be completed and I had to scrounge for extra things to do.  This was actually more stressful to me than having too much to do.  I began to request that, like most other workers at the production center, I wanted to be sent out to different locations to work more directly with the customers.  I didn’t want to remain behind the scenes all the time as I advanced beyond complacency.

Luckily by end of March of 1990, which wasn’t too long after my request, I applied and was offered a cook’s helper position at the Garden Plaza (brand new office building on Park Avenue) with exactly the same hours as my old job.  I had been limited to what job openings I could take since I couldn’t start in the morning before seven that was required for most full-time jobs.

The change was very good since I was kept much busier with a more variety of tasks and different ones.  I had had my other position for seven years since my transfer to Renton.  Now I was responsible for preparing the side dishes–frozen vegetables, red potatoes, and rice–and cooking them in the steamer.  I also baked russet potatoes and prepared seasoning mixes for the entrees and soups.  As an added benefit to the more enjoyable position, though still very easy work I had received a hike in my pay scale since I moved up one notch into a higher job classification.

My prayer of working out in the front serving people directly was answered.  During the lunch service hours, I was assigned to serve on a hot food line where I was in direct contact with customers.  Apparently, the managers began to feel more comfortable to have me face the patrons and provide direct service as my more autistic facial and bodily expressions had gradually given way to a more outgoing look.  It was a good thing that I was finally trusted to do the job as I performed well with my cheerful spirit-of-service attitude of delivering whatever I could with the need to please the customers.  They all seemed happy with my service.  Most were very friendly.  My demeanor began to exude greater confidence though I still had long ways to go.

 

Since the autumn of 1989, Kris’ Social Security office moved from Seattle to a much larger facility about thirty miles south in an old, refurbished warehouse at the General Administrative Services at Auburn.  The teleservice center had increased capacity with a national toll-free number and needed more space with the expansion from about thirty employees to around six hundred.  Kris was very lucky to get a ride to the new location since only one woman offered to take him with no backup drivers as most of the worker refused the transfer and moved on.  He would still able to go by bus, but it was too long of a commute.

After commuting about half a year, even with a ride most of the time, Kris decided that we needed to move closer to the office for a shorter commute as it was wearing on him and he wasn’t able to always count on a ride.  During the spring of 1990, we began to look at condominiums and houses in the Kent and Auburn areas whenever we got rides from his parents and his friend Ray.

Initially we had viewed condos and townhouses since Kris wanted something with very low maintenance and we weren’t sure that we could afford a single-family house.  As he became more concerned about the higher fire hazards in condos with wood construction and we both longed for our own back yard, he reconsidered and focused our search for single detached homes with backyards.  We realized that we could always hire people for maintenance work when necessary.  As we approached summer, we focused our efforts in Auburn, close to the bus line with regular service so we could get around more easily.  But, we still looked close to where Kris worked.  We didn’t need to be as close to my job in Renton as I wouldn’t be working as many hours as Kris would be at his.

 

As I settled into my married life, which was very compatible, I went all over Seattle to visit various churches and temples.  I became very curious of what various faiths were like as I was searching my soul for a happier life.  I found that mantra meditation was very effective in making me calmer and focused for love, compassion, peace, and forgiveness.  I worked on reprogramming my negative karma into a positive with improving my self-image that was a very slow process.  I experimented with a few diets and fasting to clean out my system and improve my health.  I took up gardening for a greater communion with nature and fresh organic produce.

“How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are doves.  Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead.”—Song of Songs 4:1

Add comment July 16, 2008 dithorsos
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Marriage and Soul Exploration

Just after our wedding while we were still in Maryland, I noticed that I had developed a hernia in the left groin area.  Though I was able to stick it back in, it popped out again as soon as I stood and moved.  Initially I was worried until my mother assured me it was a hernia.  I had had small hernias in the same area in my childhood, but they remained small and hidden for many years until suddenly one of them grew so large that something needed to be done.

Shortly after Kris and I came home from Ivan’s Graduation from the Air Force Academy in the spring of 1985; I made an appointment to see someone at the Group Health Cooperative facility in Capitol Hill that was very close to us.  I was covered under Kris’ health insurance plan.

The summer was soon approaching and I wanted to take advantage of the summer activities–picnics, hiking, and camping–I asked the doctor if it would be okay to put off my hernia repair until the fall when it would be easier for me to recuperate with less to do outdoors.  Besides, it would be less busy at food service when more people would be back from vacations, though I would be granted time off anytime for surgery.  The doctor felt that this would be fine since a few months longer wouldn’t be so critical. 

The Group Health Hospital at Capitol Hill was booked solid, so I needed to go to the hospital at the Eastside facility at Redmond.  On the morning of my surgery on September 4, 1985, my in-laws came to drive Kris and me to and from the hospital to save us from taking a taxi and to help me if I needed anything when we arrived home.  My mother-in-law fixed lunch for all of us and went home shortly after when assured that I would be fine without additional help.  I had the hernia repair as an outpatient so I didn’t need to spend any nights there.

After the local anesthesia had worn off several hours following the operation I began to feel a lot pain.  I had hope that I would be able to get by with just aspirin, but I was hurting so much that I had to resort to the much more powerful analgesic that I was prescribed.

Basically the drug I had taken for a few days was designed to control the pain by depressing the nervous system so as to numb the pain receptors.  This resulted in the slowing down of my systems–brain, muscles, and digestion.  I became very sluggish, thought I needed plenty of rest for better healing.  The worst part was when I had terrible constipation, as I had a tendency to begin with.

I was home for four weeks as my job in food service involved being on my feet with some lifting which would have caused a strain on my surgery.  I welcomed the break from work, especially since I had received three weeks worth of time-off compensation from my union.  After practically being in bed all of the first week, I began to regain some of my strength and were able to do things as long as they weren’t too physical.

Since I had so much time off I did some activities that I normally didn’t have time for.  I shopped at a fabric store and made a gray woolen business suit to wear just in case I would have a job interview.  Even though I wasn’t actively looking for another job, I wanted to be ready in case any of my Boeing contacts would be able to get me a job directly for the company which would provide a greater amount of pay.

While I was up and about during my recuperation from the hernia repair, especially the last two weeks when I was feeling more and more normal, I got tired of staying home all the time and went to as many things as possible as long as I didn’t need to walk too much.  I went to all of the community open houses that I saw advertised in my area, picnics, and a series of foreign films shown for free at the Seattle Public Library in downtown.  I normally didn’t watch movies though I occasionally attended slide shows.  I was happy to go back to work at the end of the four weeks of recovery.

I was puzzled as to why I had developed hernia since it had been associated with those who had been involved with prolonged heavy lifting such as in certain jobs.  Though I hadn’t done much heavy lifting I had theorized that the culprit was chronic constipation that could cause greater wear and tear of the muscles in the abdominal area from frequent straining while using the bathroom.  Despite being on a high fiber diet, I suffered from it.

 

Generally those with autism tend to be more prone to digestive or bowel disorders, such as diarrhea, constipation, or both.  My mother, who didn’t have autism, had irritable bowel syndrome.  So, I apparently had inherited the disorder from her and not all of it could be the result of my neurological condition. The build up of stresses that are inherent in the disability could cause great havoc with digestion since it tends to be very sensitive to the stress hormones.

To learn more about improving my health, with a greater emphasis on nutrition and digestion, I subscribed to the magazine, Prevention, and purchased several books on healing and health.  Though most of the information was general there were a few things here and there that I was able to learn.

Throughout the mid to late eighties whenever I was home for more than a few days during some of the holidays or when I was home with illness, I went on fasts where I didn’t take in any solid food but lots of liquids–herbal teas and an intestinal cleansing formula in water.  I had read in several articles and books that fasts could be effective in removing the accumulated toxins from the system and in giving the overworked digestive system a break.  To further draw out and eliminate toxins to prevent reabsorption whenever I fasted for a few days or more I gave myself coffee enemas that were recommended by several health books.

During the late eighties I had a colonic (colon irrigation) a few times.  The procedure involved putting a tube in the rectum for the maximum amount of water from the tank filled up the entire colon until the pressure became too great and released.  Though the result on my system wasn’t as striking as I had hoped, it was good to investigate and try various programs to find what would be effective and help the most.  I felt that my open mindedness would enable me to win in the long run.  There could have been other factors that were implicated in my constipation that might had been overlooked–emotions, hormonal or metabolic imbalances, and overeating which tend to be common in autism.

Periodically during the late eighties I had experimented with a few laxatives which were much too strong for me–a laxative herbal tea (an assortments of herbs which stimulate the bowel) and a laxative gel cap product (claims for breaking up of hard impacted waste matter)–which by the next day after them I reacted much too strongly and cramped with diarrhea.  After I had rebounded from the products, I ended up even more constipated.

Throughout most of my life as I reduced the amount of dairy products and increase amount of dietary fiber and increase physical activities, I notice gradual improvements in my digestion.  I went from defecating twice a week to about ten a week.  Usually in the mornings, I clean myself out very well with a substantial bowel movement with easy elimination.  It feels good.  Whenever I flush a toilet, I keep the handle down for several seconds until I am about to hear the contents go down then let go for a more powerful flush so things go down.  I have a long gut.  My digestion does still can be thrown off from stresses, such as emotional turmoil and travel.  I tend to feel best when I have at least one good bowel movement a day.

I basically consume a high fiber natural whole foods diet that is low on animal foods and glutinous grains.  I occasionally eat salmon, sardines, some white fish, and organically raised poultry and eggs.  I sometime have yogurt.  Most days I am a vegan (strict vegetarian).  I do not consume red meats and shell food.  I eat all sorts of whole grains, including rice, millet, quinoa, oats, spelt, and rye and all sorts of beans and lentils.  I eat lots of green leafy vegetables and other veggies.    I have fruits mostly when they are in season and is from our back yard, including raspberries, apples, figs, and plums.  I find that I could now have peanuts and nuts in moderation without any reactions as in years past.

 

Both Kris and I had become very adamant about not having any children.  Kris’ low physical endurance from his visual impairment and over worked eyes wouldn’t allow him to effectively handle the responsibilities of fatherhood.  I, besides the greater genetic risk of passing on autism through future generations, was also concerned with whether we would sufficiently be able to provide for all of the needs for our children–environmental, economical, and social.  Not that autism is bad.  Despite the increasing numbers of mothers with small children working outside of the home, there was no way that I could continue employment while raising little ones.  It would be too much for me emotionally and physically.  Both of us had been enjoying the carefree lifestyle without any worries of parenthood and having a greater amount of freedom to come and go as we please.

After using latex birth control devices for a little while I had a tubal ligation as an outpatient at the Group Health Hospital on January of 1986.  This was very wise as we were firm in our decision.  This operation was a lot easier than hernia repair as I was able to go back to work after two days.  I was even able to take the bus home after I walked out of the hospital.  Kris was with me to be available for assistance.  The costs were covered.  What Group Health didn’t cover, my union health care paid the rest though not until a year later.  I had presented them with an article about possible genetic causes of autism for consideration of the coverage.

 

Besides taking vacations to visit relatives, we sometimes did other things for more variety.  For example, in May of 1986 my in-laws drove Kris and I up to Vancouver, British Columbia for the world’s fair, Expo ‘86, for several days.  On the way to and from Canada, we stayed at a Hotel 6 in Bellingham, a university town.  While in British Columbia we stayed in a nice bed ‘n breakfast place in a senior couple’s home that we were referred to by friends.

Despite the huge crowds and long lines to get into any building at the expo, I enjoyed the exhibits from many countries including films and slides from all over the world.  I received so much more from Expo ‘86 as an adult than I did from the New York World’s Fair in the mid sixties as a child.  Since it was so easy to get lost and separated with the vast areas and hordes of people, Kris and I held hands during the entire time.  His parents went on their own way and we all met at a certain place at a certain time each day.

 

Over a year later during the end of July of 1987, we went back to Canada for a week of vacation, but at my brother-in-law, Eric’s, summer property with an old cabin at Cortes Island.  The family had owned acreage there for years.  They had stayed there for a month every summer.  The island is located about eighty miles north of Vancouver.  This was approximately the same remote area that I had wanted to move to years earlier when I had an obsession of leaving New York when I was fifteen.  It was as though I had already made a connection to the region.

Kris and I flew in by a six-passenger seaplane from Seattle to a harbor where Eric and family picked us up in their van.  They parked it at the end of the road at Culture Bay that was the closest we could drive to their place.  We went the rest of the way on the water in their old dinghy and made several trips.  The alternative was to hike in the woods on steep rocky trails and old logging roads, which would be challenging for Kris.  Hiking out was necessary whenever it was too stormy to take the boat out.

Kris and I slept in my two-person tent close to the water (Desolate Sound) but still in the woods. The cabin was a little bit up the hill with a great view of the passage.  The beach was very rugged with mounds of large rocks and boulders.  Since this presented more of a challenge for Kris to stroll along the beach, he began to build and maintain a trail in the woods along the side of the waterfront to the point as far as the property went.  During the early mornings as I hiked in the woods or along the beach, I munched on salal berries here and there as a pre-breakfast appetizer.  Later in the day I ate seaweed and other weeds from the beach.  In the cabin I referred to a book for a guide to edible weeds and wilds.

Without indoor plumbing, we filled up buckets of water from the stream close by and kept food cool in old refrigerator crisper bins with make-do plywood lids.  We heated up water and cooked over an old wood stove.  I bathed in the sound and took a shower from a portable camper’s kit.  Instead of an outhouse, we dug deep pits out in the woods a little way from behind the cabin and set up an old chair with a big hole in the seat with an old toilet seat on top of it as a make-do toilet.  When the pit got full we dug up another one.

 

A few months later in September, I went on my only week long backpack with the Mountaineers though we got rained out on the third day and left early to go home the next day.  A group of about ten of us were supposed to circle around Mount Hood in Oregon, but were only able to go half way before leaving.  Even though we had had a period of drought during the summer in the Pacific Northwest with watering restrictions imposed by late summer, I didn’t want the rain that was the first one in months.  Despite certain hardships–weather, load weighted down by excessive weight of food, and dampness with chilly evenings; I still had a very good time hiking, enjoying the scenery, and spending time with people.

I had wanted to go on more extended backpacks or camping trips for several years by then, but between fitting in other vacation plans and the very limited number of trips printed up in the Mountaineer bulletin I hadn’t managed.  Most of the week-long trips didn’t appear until the April issue for the following summer, when it was already way past the due date in my request which had to be turned in by end of January for the entire year especially when asking time off during the peak high demand period throughout the summer.  It almost didn’t matter since I had limited time off anyway and had my side of the family to visit in the East coast that used up some of my vacation time.

 

 

As Kris and I became more settled in our marriage about six months after the wedding and upon full recovery from my surgery in the fall of 1985, I began to explore Seattle for cultural activities.  I had read all of the flyers that were stapled on posts about rallies, meetings, and other events.  I was curious as to what the city had to offer in the way of events and ongoing things to go to without admission charges.

Though Kris and I were very happy in our relationship, we did some things separately as well as doing them together.  The main activity that Kris went to without me was during the football season in the fall when he, who loved to watch all the football games on TV, went to a few Husky football events at the University of Washington.  He went with a good family friend who had season tickets to the home games.  Ray was the son of a set of Kris’ godparents.  He was very close to Kris.  He was very friendly and was often available to take him to shop or to Harstine Island to visit my in-laws.

Generally since Kris often needed to rest his eyes he tended to be a homebody.  Having grown up with the Episcopal denomination, he often went to the Episcopal Trinity Parish since living in our condo.  He usually attended the Wednesday evening services after work since it was easier than attending on Sunday.  Sometimes I went with him and both of us joined a home bible study group from the church.  Other times I went alone to explore other faiths.  This was okay with Kris as he was very open-minded, though he didn’t want to go with me.

 

One thing that I went alone was to a free concert of flute music by Sri Chinmoy.  This seemed enjoyable so I went to it one evening.  Sri Chinmoy, an Indian born guru, had lived in New York and toured the country and the world to perform.  His music was very meditative and soothing.  At the end of the evening at the concert I picked up a flyer about an upcoming weekend workshop on meditation that was free.

My interest in meditation began to resurface in the fall of 1985 after many years since I had tried it for a little while when I was seventeen.  I felt that it would help me relax more.  I had heard that the benefits from it include calming of the nervous system that I felt that I needed.  I was much more motivated to give this a try than I was eleven years earlier.

The weekend workshop not only provided spiritual nourishment with talks and meditation, but also physical nourishment with lunches and snacks.  The meals were vegetarian as the use of the flesh foods, alcoholic beverages, and drugs were strongly discouraged as influenced by Hinduism.  The dietary restrictions were very much in line with what I believed in and had been practicing though I wasn’t always strict about avoiding meat entirely whenever I was out.  The people seemed very friendly and calmer than most folks–likely the result of allowing time for relaxation.

I was impressed with the healthful lifestyle philosophy and joined the Sri Chinmoy Meditation Center following their workshop.  During the first six weeks I went to the new member meetings on beginning meditation.  After that I had attended meetings with the full-fledged members mostly on Friday and Sunday evenings when it was generally the most convenient.  We met as much as three evenings and one morning a week.

The center was located in the home of a family in the Montlake neighborhood of Seattle, near the arboretum and close to the University of Washington.  It also wasn’t far from our home, close enough that it was a straight shot by bus.  Even though it would already be dark at around nine o’clock by the time the meeting ended, I felt safe going home alone through the Seattle streets. 

During each meditation we started with a side of a cassette tape of music by Sri Chinmoy and continue with silence through the end of the hour.  Occasionally we also included very slow walking around the room for about five to ten minutes.  During the conclusion, we took turns one by one to go up to the altar to receive a small treat (prasad).  The altar had briquettes of freshly cut flowers, candles, incense, and framed photographs of Sri Chinmoy.

The men, together on the left side of the room, were clean-shaven and dressed in white shirt and pants.  The women, sitting on the right side, wore Indian style clothing–sari, or matching dresses with long side slits and pants.  I made my first two saris since they were the easiest to make.  I received a few more as gifts and purchased a few used ones from other members.  One elderly woman, who was very active in the group, noticed that I didn’t have a slip that was long enough so she had sewed me one.

The same woman, who had made me the slip, showed concern for me and was outspoken.  For example, whenever I spoke too loudly or when I interrupted others during a discussion, she kindly pointed out these things.  I took the constructive criticisms well as I knew that they were for my good.

The meditation group was a very closely knit, with the frequent meetings and the generous amount of substantial refreshments served at the end.  We all took turns supplying the refreshments and the flowers.  It was required that each member came at least once a week except when out of town.  We also celebrated everyone’s birthdays with monthly birthday parties and showers of gifts.  We also had birthday cakes with candles.  Some of my friends were generous with their presents–new saris, a large quartz crystal, and a bag full of groceries from a health food store.

Often the food prepared, especially for the Wednesday evening dinners, potlucks, or weekend retreats, was Indian cuisine.  The fare usually included basmati rice, dhal (spicy split peas or lentils), spicy potato/ vegetable medley, and chutneys (fruit relish).  This was one of my favorite cuisines along with Oriental food.  I loved all of the Indian spices and the way the flavors melded together.  Apparently my taste buds were more Indian and Oriental than Jewish despite growing up with Jewish foods.  Not that I didn’t like them.  I had always gone more for foods that were more flavorful or spicier than bland.  The cuisine of my heritage tended to be blander.  Whenever I had cooked beans, I used plenty of herbs and spices.

Almost every month, there was a weekend gathering (joy days) of the four Sri Chinmoy meditation groups in the Pacific Northwest–Victoria and Vancouver, British Columbia in Canada; Seattle, Washington and Portland, Oregon.  We rotated between these locations where the hosting group prepared the delicious vegetarian food.  The out-of-towners were put up in homes of the local disciples for Saturday evening.  On Sunday morning, we all helped the host center by sponsoring community athletic events to raise funds.

A young female disciple, who was very friendly and active in the group, provided me with most of the rides to joy days that were out of town.  She had a severe skin condition with red splotches and scarring (rosacea) all over her face and other parts of her body.  She helped out in the Sri Chinmoy enterprises; health food deli, bookstore, and vegetarian Indian restaurant.  I went with her to several places to distribute flyers for our upcoming activities.  Her skin appearance didn’t bother me at all as her inner and outer beauty over shadowed the physical imperfection.

The guru, who was highly spiritual with a background of Eastern religions, had many talents: music, poetry, painting, running, and weight lifting.  When he was on a tour in the Pacific Northwest, including Washington State and British Columbia during November of 1986, I went with the group to see him perform in Seattle and a few days later in Vancouver, B.C.  I was picked up on a Friday evening and spent a night at Vancouver at a hotel with a bunch of disciples.

Even though I had never idolized and worshipped any human being as if a god, I wanted to see what the experience of the disciples gathering around the guru was like.  I had heard from some friends that generally there would be a greater amount of excitement.  I was very interested to see that many of the people had come from as far as California.  It was amazing to hear that the guru had a large entourage with him from New York.  The main reasons why I came were to be with my friends, to meet people and to take walks in a different area rather than focus entirely on Sri Chinmoy.

The majority of the members, around thirty in all, were young and single, though there were a few families such as a couple with two growing boys in whose house the meetings were held.  There was another family with a little girl and boy, and a young couple without children.  A rule that didn’t make sense to me, though it was irrelevant since I wasn’t planning to have children, was that once single, stay single and once childless, stay childless while being in the group.  This discouraged people for making changes in their lives.

Many of the disciples were given spiritual Indian names by the guru, especially the old timers who had visited him regularly.  As he got to know each follower, he would meditate on a name that would be most befitting for the member.  Three times a year most of the disciples flocked to New York to be with Sri Chinmoy for a week long festivals.  It was set as a requirement that those who had been disciples for at least four years or more were to attend at least one of the New York festivals every year.  I never went to any of them since I had limited vacation time and limited funds for the traveling expenses.  I preferred to use my weeks off to visit my family in Maryland, other relatives and going to other places for exploring.

By the end of summer of 1987 when I had been attending the meditation center for almost two years, I contemplated and considered for a few months, and realized it was time for me to move on and drop out from the center.  Though I was lured by the positive qualities–generosity of the refreshments, closeness of the camaraderie, and acceptance–it wasn’t for me to continue.  With my low self-esteem and longing for greater acceptance by others, I was very susceptible to being drawn into a cult with some strange values, and they were anti-family.

There were too many refreshments which lead to temptation that was too difficult for me to control, not that anyone should had been blamed.  I also didn’t have any intentions of attending any of Sri Chinmoy’s New York festivals that was required of long standing disciples.  Nobody ever inflicted any harm upon me, and the main thing that I received from the organization was learning to meditate and the benefits from it.  There were also other organizations that I wanted to check out or already had begun without jamming my schedule so much.

Throughout the latter part of the eighties I looked at other Indians gurus during their tours in Seattle, at free community gatherings that featured meditations and concerts.  They weren’t any better than Sri Chinmoy though different and had formed their own cults.  These gurus generally had come from impoverished backgrounds–extreme poverty or abusive households–that apparently influenced their outlook in life.  Though they, like him, had drawn followers and formed meditation groups that met regularly, I never joined.  One was a man who claimed to have meditated for entire days, which I feel are excessive and overdoing a good thing.  He offered darshan to each individual in attendance of which each goes up to him and receive a Prasad (food or small gift).  I attended a few meditations with vegetarian potlucks. 

Another was a woman guru, Mata Amritanandamayi (Amma).  She offered darshan with hugs to each who come up to her.  She preached loving embrace and have been visiting the Seattle area every year since 1987.  Her entourage included people who played meditative and Indian music of which I enjoyed very much and purchased some recordings of the music.  When she came to the Seattle area, she held meditation sessions at a home in the Eastside for a weekend of which I got the information from a New Age publication.   I continued to attend her meditations some subsequent years when she was in Seattle and met at large halls to accommodate the large crowds she attracted.  While I was at her meditation, I had a strong longing to get free from my food addictions and wanted peace so much.  I hanged on to hope and determined to never let go of it.  While I was sitting on a large cushion on a floor with most of the people in the group, I asked myself, “is this the day that I would be set free from my addictions?”  I did receive love and peace in glimpses.  So I was hopeful that I would receive much more in the future when I get my life more together.

At home I set up my small altar on the right side of an old desk that Kris had had for many years while the left side was still used as the night table by the bed.  It was the only space in our place that we were able to make room to use.  On my half, I placed a small tablecloth of either my boutiques or appliqués.  I laid out some of my seashells, and whenever I had freshly cut flowers or incense, I placed them on the desk.

I tried to meditate at least once a day, mostly early in the morning when I was at my freshest and our unit was the quietest.  Whenever I was able to get up before the alarm went off, I allowed an extra half hour in the weekday morning before work to get ready so I would have time to meditate.  When I purchased a small boom box I played soothing cassette tapes during meditation.  I bought a bunch of tapes from the Sri Chinmoy center of music by the guru himself or by other artists from his compositions.  The prices were reasonable and the proceeds went back to the center.

 

Since I had meditated, I noticed that I had become calmer and more in tuned with my human nature, along with the calming effects of my vegetarian diet.  Even a few disciples from the center had discerned a change in me from when I had started.  I had developed an increased spiritual or serene glow.  My self-esteem that was low for so many years began to be raised, but I still had long way to go on my journey.

Add comment July 15, 2008 dithorsos
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Marriage and Soul Exploration

 MARRIAGE AND SOUL EXPLORATION

Circle of Love

Where there is love, there is peace.

Where there is peace, there is serenity.

Where there is serenity, there is compassion.

Where there is compassion, there is forgiveness.

Where there is forgiveness, there is harmony.

Where there is harmony, there is enlightenment.

Where there is enlightenment, there is unity.

Where there is unity, there is love.

Once I got married, I started to feel more settled down and my living situation was more permanent.  I was done worrying of looking around for a good mate or whether I would ever find one.  It felt so good to settle down with someone whom I love and relish this wonderful companionship.  We were also very fortunate to live in a central location, which made exploring culture and community events easy.  As I took in information from meetings about alternative natural treatments and spirituality, I explored these areas that were discussed.  I was a seeking and lost soul looking for enlightenment and peace.

 

By the end of February of 1985, I moved out of the rooming house a few weeks before my wedding.  I had two men, Bob and an acquaintance, Bill, from my Toastmasters group, helped me move by carrying out cartons and transporting them to Kris’ condo.  Just a few weeks earlier, I helped Bill move from his house to one in another area in Seattle.  All of my belongings were able to fit easily into both cars, so only one trip was required from each helper.

Shortly after I moved my friend Barbara whom I met at the Washington Protection and Advocacy System hosted a bridal shower for me at her apartment close to the Ballard neighborhood in Seattle.  Prior to the party, I made out a short list of women to be invited.  Most of the guests were also from WPAS–Katie, Parul, Laura, and Mary.  Kris’ mother also came and drove me home.

At work there was another shower for me.  Shortly after I arrived at the cafeteria, I was called into the small production office.  A secretary told me that I had a form to fill out and she began to look for it.  As I walked back to my work area, I heard a chorus of “Surprise!”  On one stainless steel table was a big pile of gifts that my co-workers put out while I was at the office on the pretend business that hid me from the action.  On another table next to the gifts was a fruit platter.  Since they knew that I wouldn’t eat cake and the party was in my honor, they wanted to prepare food that I could eat.

Since there were so many presents, from a pool of about thirty people, I wasn’t able to take them all home with me on the bus.  It would have taken at least a week to take all of them.  We put them away in the storage room until I could move them after we come back from our wedding.  Luckily one young woman who had a pickup truck offered to take me home with my gifts, so I could take them all in one trip.

 

In March of 1985, Kris and I flew to Maryland for the week of our wedding.  It was a lot easier for us to travel east than it would be for all of my family to come west, especially since they were the ones to organize the wedding.  We chose this time of the year to get married for the beginning of the spring weather and when it was the easiest for Kris and I to take time off from work.  We allowed a few days before the event to spend time with family and to get over the jet lag.

The evening before our big day, the close family members had the rehearsal dinner at a fine restaurant.  They too had flown from Seattle for the wedding.  Their youngest son, Kris’ brother who was finishing up his senior year at the Air Force Academy, was able to attend to be the best man.  On March 22, 1985, Kris and I got married at the courthouse in Rockville, Maryland.  With our interfaith backgrounds, a non-religious ceremony worked the best.

I was dressed up in a lovely white party dress made of satin and chiffon, a white hat with a veil down to my shoulders, white pattern leather sandals, and a white leather shoulder purse.  My mother had purchased them for me since I trusted her taste.  Though the dress wasn’t a traditional wedding dress with its greater simplicity, it was very elegant.  I liked the idea that the dress was practical enough to wear at other parties rather than for just one time.  I felt very special wearing the outfit.  Kris wore a basic dark blue/black suit with a matching vest.  Kris put the wedding band of 18-carat gold on my finger that was from his maternal grandmother.

At the courthouse we had a small group of close family members that included my in-laws, parents, stepfather and his daughters, my siblings and nieces.  Even though Kris and I had gone with each other for almost a year and a half we were both very nervous, as we signed the papers, of the big change in our relationship that would affect the rest of our lives.  Both of us were still very confident we were making the right decision.  We wanted very much for our marriage to always remain stable.

The next day after I showed Kris and his folks around the museums in Washington, D.C. and we had a reception with a sit-down meal and a live band at the Holiday Inn Hotel.  On Saturday evening we had enough time for the New Yorkers to drive down, or take the train or go sightseeing.  We had dancing in which Kris and I participated a little bit.  About a hundred people attended, including Kris’ sister’s in-laws who just happened to have visited the area at that time.

Following our wedding and reception, Kris and I spent two nights at a motel that was only about a half of a mile away from my mother’s townhouse.  Besides, there wasn’t enough space for us to stay with my folks as other relatives, such as my brother and stepsisters, slept there.  In the mornings, we went on walks and back to my mother’s for breakfast and for the day.  We didn’t have enough time for a real honeymoon since we needed to get back to Seattle.

When we arrive at the Sea-Tac International Airport, Kris’ older brother who wasn’t able to attend our wedding picked us up.  When we arrived home and went upstairs to our bedroom there was a surprise waiting for us.  On our full-sized bed was a quilted bedspread that Kris’ sister-in-law had made.  Terry sneaked into our place to make our bed and placed a note on the bed that said, “Sweet Dreams Tonight”.  She had obtained our keys for the occasion.

We were able to bring all of our wedding gifts home since most of them were money that fitted nicely in an envelope, though we took the bulkier items in cardboard boxes.  We had received a few things, such as a salad bowl set, coffee maker, candy dish, and a honey bowl.  Even some of friends and relatives who weren’t able to attend had send gifts to us.

Thanks to the generosity of people, we had enough money to fix our place up with new furniture and more storage.  We had bought a new sofa with a hide-a-bed to replace the old one with a torn fabric in the front and a chest of drawers for my clothes.  In addition, my father-in-law had ordered kitchen cupboards and installed them in the bar area adjoining the kitchen and some upstairs in the bedroom and next to the bathroom for extra storage.  We hung one directly over my drawing table to store my art supplies.  The others were used for our bed linens and towels.  With two of us crammed in a one-bedroom unit, we needed them.

Shortly after we were home from our trip, I planned an open house to invite every one from my cafeteria to show appreciation for all the gifts I had received.  I also had Kris invite people from his office.  I made the invitations to be posted on the wall in our work places.  Only a few people had showed up, Dani and Martha from my food service contacts and two woman from Kris’ work at Social Security.  It was still a nice size gathering, given the small amount of space and limited parking.

It was nice for Dani and her mother to come over to see where we lived since they had never been to our place before.  After they had stayed for a little while, two friendly women from the Social Security Teleservice Center came for a short visit.  One of them had hit it off very well with me in certain common interests, such as nutrition and physical fitness.  Ina who was middle aged was into healthy eating and walking.  I was impressed since most of the fellow workers from the office ate the standard high-fat unhealthy American food and lead sedentary lives.  We talked about my lifestyle with my low-fat/ high fiber vegetarian diet and regular exercise program with walking and hiking.

It was just as well that we didn’t get too many people from my cafeteria since they probably would be disappointed with the food.  Even though I had good intentions, my homemade brown rice balls, potato salad, and coleslaw along with turkey and dressing wouldn’t measure up to what they tend to be used to–fast food.

A few weeks later in early May of 1985 when the weather was very nice in the Puget Sound area, friends of my in-laws hosted a wedding reception for us at their home to celebrate our marriage with friends and relatives who didn’t get a chance to go to our wedding.  It was there that I first met some of my in-laws, such Kris’ aunt (his father’s sister) with her husband and their son.  Chairs and tables with umbrellas were set up to eat out in the lovely backyard of their house in the north Kirkland area on the Eastside.  I was asked to invite a few friends and family.  Katie and Duane, and my brother came.  It was fun meeting friends and old-time neighbors that my in-laws had known for many years.

 

During the last week of May, Kris and I flew to Colorado Springs, Colorado to attend the graduation of Kris’ younger brother from the Air Force Academy.  Ivan (III) had earned a degree in astronautical engineering with aspirations of becoming an astronaut.  There were festivities with marching bands almost all week.  We had a family reunion of all of my immediate in-laws.  It was there that I first met some of them–Kris’ sister with her husband and two children (daughter and son).  It had been very seldom that Kris had gotten together with all of his siblings–a sister and two brothers–due to geographical reasons.

We all stayed in a motel, located in a small town of Monument, which was about twenty miles north of Colorado Springs.  Whenever we had some free time during the day, I went out for long walks to explore the area.  Some of the time Kris came with me if he didn’t need to rest.  In town we browsed a few gift and antique shops.  Sometimes we saw a few people who set up produce stands from their pickup trucks that added to the small town feel.

We also spent a few days sightseeing the area with relatives.  We toured historical sights in Mannitou Springs, such as Cliff Dwellings primitive homes and caves.  We visited a major national park, the Garden of the Gods.  I had brought along my camera and took pictures of flowers, natural scenery, and the marching cadets during the graduation ceremonies.  I hardly took any pictures of Kris and his side of the family.  Once during our trip I had someone shoot Kris and me.

 

When we came back home from our wedding, I began to eliminate jogging entirely from my physical fitness program.  I had heard reports that brisk walking is just as effective for the heart and physical conditioning as jogging or running without the increased jarring of the joints.  The constant pounding on the pavement and concrete could lead to a greater number of joint problems of the knee and shin splints.  Even though, I was fortunate enough not to develop such challenges, I wanted to prevent them.  Besides walking was much more comfortable, though it tends to burn fewer calories than running.  I was influenced when Bob, an avid runner for over fifteen years, messed up his knee.

Ever since I had moved to so close to downtown Seattle where there was a great concentration of commercial areas, I began to do my walking in Renton after work.  Even though Renton contained industrial areas, such as Boeing where my job was, it also had a wider spread of residential areas that were nicer for walking.  It was the flexibility of several bus routes that ran regularly throughout the day that made it possible for me to venture farther away without having to come back for the bus.

One of my favorite places to walk was the Gene Coulon Park on Lake Washington.  I enjoyed watching ducks and geese leading their chicks on both water and land, especially during spring when many of the births take place.  I went on the paved bike trail that ran from the swimming area to about two miles along the lake.

Some other afternoons I walked up the hill, on the main road by Boeing, to the Renton Highlands.  Sometimes I walked on a road that went along the lake to Kennydale (north Renton community) and some of the side streets.  I enjoyed the views of the water and going by nice homes.  It was also a good steady incline to provide a good workout in addition to the steep hill I went up from downtown Seattle.  Occasionally during late spring when the weather was very nice, I ventured miles further than usual, close to Lake Kathleen and a few smaller lakes and the Renton Vocational Institute. I felt very invigorated during and after a long walk.

Occasionally when I had some browsing and shopping in downtown Renton, I walked in the opposite direction over a mile from my cafeteria.  At the health food store, I had picked up some good deals from their bargain bins and the monthly complimentary magazines on nutrition with advertised specials.  I also liked to browse the antique shops through out the town.

One day as I was approaching Gene Coulon Park, a young woman from my cafeteria stopped to offer me a ride on her way home north of Kennydale.  Even though I didn’t need a ride especially since she didn’t go to Seattle, I took her offer so I could explore other neighborhoods close by which were too far to walk from Boeings.  I knew that wherever I ended up there would be a bus that I could take to Seattle.

 

Once a month I did the bulk of my grocery shopping at the Puget Consumers Co-op Kirkland store to take advantage of the monthly specials on the bulk foods and a few specialty items.  It was a straight shot going by bus from Renton Boeing along the state highway, #405, to Kirkland.  When I was done shopping, it was a straight shot home by bus to Seattle.  For my other shopping, such as toiletries, fresh produce, and fish, the neighborhood Thriftway Store and the Pike Place Market were good and saved me time.  The market was a forerunner in bringing the more exotic varieties of fruits and vegetables to the public.  I purchased about a dozen varieties of white fish along with salmon to try.

Since the mid eighties, I had joined the Well Mind Association (WMA) that promotes nutritional and other natural approaches for treatments of mental illness and other disorders.  This organization arose out of the dissatisfaction of how schizophrenia was treated excessively with drugs without getting to the root causes.  Even though autism is entirely different from mental illness, the basic premise of WMA of healing through the more natural means would be equally applicable for my condition.

I had attended several annual symposiums and monthly meetings.  I enjoyed very much the ten newsletters a year with the in depth scientific facts on the brain chemistry, metabolism, and pathology, the politics on food, supplement regulations, alternative medicine, and articles on nutrition.  I read about sensitivities and environmental toxicity.  It was helpful to be informed of the latest research in those areas to learn what foods and chemicals to avoid and what changes I needed to make to improve my health and mental outlook.

One of the things that had a major influence upon me was the research on the Candida Albicans yeast infestation in the body.  It appeared to be a common occurrence and implicated in weakened immune systems that led to greater sensitivities to food and the environment.  Perhaps, this could be the root cause of my reactions to things that could be manifested in autism.  I also identified with some of the symptoms of the yeast overgrowth–mild depression, low energy levels, and lapses of brain function, food sensitivities, and digestive problems.  Even though I had already improved my diet I felt that I needed to do more.

I attended a few special monthly meetings with potluck dinners for people with food allergies or sensitivities.  We met at the home of a nutritionist, a member of WMA, who had food and chemical sensitivities herself.  Sally Rockwell had her monthly newsletter, Allergy Alert, inserted with the WMA publication for a while until it wasn’t permitted for the combined mailing.

During the fall of 1984, I purchased a small cookbook, Coping with Candida by Sally Rockwell, with the basics of the anti-yeast diet and recipes that are compatible with the plan.  It was available at the monthly support meetings.  I wanted a basic guidebook to refer to as I tried to follow the diet.  Besides, I enjoyed trying out some interesting recipes such as wheat-free crackers made of ground flax seed and a nut loaf. 

By end of November of 1984, with only several months before my wedding, I began the anti-Candida diet with hopes of starting my married life as a healthier person.  I eliminated all foods based on yeasts and molds–breads, cheeses, and vinegar and reduced consumption of carbohydrates–grains, fruits, and sugar.  It was challenging to stay on it, since the “caveman diet”, with large amounts of meat and nuts, had never suited me well.  Nevertheless, being in food service I needed a great deal of willpower to resist the forbidden food where my remaining choices became even more limiting–potatoes, vegetables, and V-8 vegetable juice.  I did cheat whenever I went to parties and had product samples in stores.

After being on the regimen for more than ten days I began to feel better.  I avoided the high carbohydrate foods that I often binged on.  I felt that I exerted greater control of myself by eating less.  By the end of February of 1985 when I had been on the diet for three months, I had lost over twenty pounds and became slim.  I was at my most ideal weight by my wedding in March.

After being on the program for three months I began to realize that I wasn’t making any overall progress in well being.  By the middle of winter I had increased fatigue and was drained of energy when I came home from work.  Sometimes I had muscular weaknesses and felt somewhat fluish and didn’t feel well enough to go to work.  This might have resulted from ketosis from not consuming enough carbohydrates.  It took me a few months to analyze how it worked for me and occurred to me that I wasn’t getting enough variety of food for good nutrition.  The better approach was to add back the wholesome foods such as fresh fruits and whole grains as long as I consumed them in moderation and avoid what I had been sensitive to–nuts, peanuts, coconut, dairy products, mustard, and corn.  I felt return of my strength and energy levels when I went off the diet that was too restrictive for my nutritional needs.  Though the “caveman” plan didn’t work well, despite my weight loss to a more ideal level, I had learned something valuable.

I tended to go off my diet at parties and ate anything I wanted.  Sometimes I paid for it by reacting to some of the things I had eaten with stomachaches and flatulence.  My stink bomb often got so bad as to infiltrate the entire area and I wasn’t pleasant to be around.  It tended to be worse when I was away all weekend on retreats with unlimited food where I ate non-stop and became more prone to diarrhea.  At least I did not have bulimia, but I tended to get sick with intestinal upsets and the runs when I ate all weekend.  Less obvious, I also tended to get low energy levels with brain fog and inability to concentrate effectively on mental tasks.   I tended to become less responsive and more withdrawn as my attention span waned, which made me appear more autistic.

I always need to be watchful of the amount of greasy foods I eat, since they tend to be difficult for me to digest.  Whenever I eat too much fatty foods, I get anywhere from indigestion and nausea to vomiting depending how much I eat.  There were a few instances where I throw up several hours after loading up on greasy food.  During these times, I attributed this to the food or just getting sick.  It was not until many years later that I made the connection between excessive consumption of fats and vomiting.  For example, when I was twelve I vomited a few times about six to nine hours after eating lots of popcorn with excessive amounts of butter in it.  I felt better afterwards.  When I was fourteen after consuming a huge portion of mussels dunk in lots of melted butter, I threw up within several hours.  It the time I blamed the mussels and food poisoning.  Looking back further into my childhood and my penchant for deep fried and greasy foods, I vomited much more frequently, though I did not made connections to specific instances.  Much more frequently, I tend to get indigestion and nausea from eating too much, such as eating a whole plate of fried potatoes for example.  I do not vomit from excessive carbohydrates and protein, just diarrhea.  I tended to load up most on carbohydrates.

Gradually throughout the spring and summer of 1985 my weight crept back since going off the caveman diet.  I often had felt like a failure by a lack of control over bingeing, especially during the periods of the month corresponding to my menstrual cycle.  Occasionally, I stayed on my diet well without snacking in between meals or eating extra portions until a few days at a time when I would be back to having large snacks between large meals.  Since my stomach had been used to taking in large quantities of food, extreme pangs of hunger developed with strong food cravings by the second or third day of being on much stricter control.

Whenever I did some food preparation at home it was very difficult to refrain from constant nibbling–especially while slicing or cubing bread or working with cookie dough.  I bought day-old loaves of bakery bread for Kris’ sandwiches from bakeries.  Since most of these loafs were unsliced I needed to slice them by hand which of course increased the temptation of eating a half of loaf.

To reduce the temptation of eating while making cookies, I bought packaged ones from the General Nutrition Centers.  Though I didn’t nibble as much as I would when I whipped up the cookie batter, I still had a hard time resisting the store bought varieties, especially since they were made with more wholesome ingredients.  As I opened the package to lay the cookies out I made an excuse to eat them.

I always felt better as I ate since apparently I had food addictions comparable to drug additions which lead to substance abuse.  Like people who took drugs to ease anxiety and depression, I turned to food to relieve those emotional states.  Whenever I missed my regular snack I experienced withdrawal symptoms, extreme hunger pangs, high level of anxiety, and increased fatigue.

Back since my college days whenever there were art show receptions and potlucks were food seemed limitless, I stuffed myself like crazy as though there wouldn’t be anymore to eat after the party.  This was even more inappropriate at receptions where each person generally took no more that a handful of food, especially with limited amount of refreshments.  For example, as I hovered over the snack table I gulped down about equivalent of a whole box of crackers, five ounces of cheese, and a whole pound of vegetables with dip.  It didn’t occur to me that there might not be enough to go around.

I tended to be even more out of control at potlucks where there were much more variety of dishes.  I was compulsive about trying everything that added up to about as much as two heaping platefuls.  I ate so much at each party that it was noticeable.  For example, while I attended Northern Virginia Community College when I was at the end-of-the-quarter potluck with the printmaking department, an older man who brought a seafood dish saw me going back to more and more of his casserole and asked me to stop taking so much.  I was so full and bloated that my stomach was about to burst open and wasn’t able to eat anything until the next morning.  Since I lacked confidence to socialize well I devoted less attention to other people and more to food.

I was so addicted to food that even when my stomach was very full, I could not bring myself to stop eating.  The pleasure from eating and tasting the food was very intense.  This overrode my discomfort from my bloated stomach.

There were a few occasions at exhibits, openings at art galleries and community celebrations at organizations when politely asked to refrain from over eating and that I needed to leave food left for others.  I always stopped, apologized, and walked out.  Though I lacked self-control most of the time with food, I quickly gained control once someone spoke up to me.  I didn’t want to cause trouble by not obeying.  The fear was much stronger than the desire to eat more.

At family gatherings with my in-laws for the holidays where I was expected to show my best behavior I still wasn’t able to control my excessive nibbling of the hor d’oerves.  I thought that I acted normally and was doing what everyone else was–eating.  I found out later, after a few get-togethers with the extended family, from my mother-in-law that a relative informed her of my constant nibbling and was concerned that I wasn’t leaving enough food for others.  I was surprised that anyone would notice since all the people appeared to be enjoying themselves.  Due to autism I failed to observe how others served themselves and didn’t fixate on the food.

Occasionally for Thanksgiving, we had a large family gathering with my in-laws, including Kris’ older brother, Eric and his family, and Eric’s in-laws.  It was fun being with Terry’s side of the family–parents, sister and husband with three children, and a brother and wife with a daughter.  Like my family, they came from highly educated backgrounds.  Terry’s father had invented a few things.  The most successful that was a mat cutter with a measuring device.  Terry’s sister and family gave Kris and me rides to the party except when it was at their place.

Add comment July 9, 2008 dithorsos
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Planting My Feet on Solid Ground (part 3)

I had faith with all the mountaineer activities I went to where there were large pools of men to choose from, that I would eventually find someone compatible.  I almost passed up such an opportunity.  When I noticed an annual Halloween party for singles in the Mountaineer bulletin, I debated whether I should go or not.  I didn’t want to go if it would take place at a hall that was hard to get to as in the previous year, especially where there was an admission charge.  One evening while I was at Bob’s, I had a hunch that I should call about the party.  When I heard that it was to be held in someone’s house in Renton and was to be a potluck without an admission charges, I decided to sign up and go since I liked the more personal touch of meeting in people’s homes.  It was a very good thing that I called and went, since that was to be a very important party.

On the evening of October 28, 1983 as I moved up to the front of the bus to see better where to get off in the dark, I noticed that there was a slim blonde man with a bag of potato chips in his arms getting ready to get off at the same bus stop.  I had a feeling that he was going to the same party.  So I asked him, “Are you going where I’m going?  I’ll lead the way.”  He said “yes” when I told him that it was with the Mountaineers.  Little did I know what this could really lead to?  I was dressed up as a bandanna girl with a bunch of bandannas tied on all over my fishnet style poncho that I had crocheted years earlier and a bandanna over my head.  I perceived him as prince charming, though he wore plain clothes.

At the party, with a plate full of food, I sat down with Kris so we could become more acquainted since having just met on the bus.  He had visual impairments due to complications from a childhood illness.  When he was six he had come down with mumps-meningitis, then a year later he developed swelling in his head as a rare complication and was diagnosed with mumps-encephalitis.  This resulted from the blockage of the vessels that drain excess fluid from the brain.  Throughout his childhood, he underwent a series of surgeries at the Children’s Orthopedic Hospital to have shunts (aqueductal stenosis shunt, a hard plastic tube) inserted to drain fluid from his brain, originally to his nose and later to his heart.  The technology was very new when he began having them in the early sixties and had only been in existence for five years.

Kris had been in and out of the hospital due to the fragile nature of the shunts that malfunctioned often throughout the years of steady and rapid growth.  Whenever that occurred he lost his ability to function properly and went into a coma.  There were times when it was critical and thought that he might die at anytime.  Luckily his mother was able to be with him all the time to watch when problems formed and to be able to take quick action.  Kris was tutored at home when he was too weak to attend school.

When Kris was thirteen, he entered a period of rapid adolescent growth when things were unstable with his shunts which lead to a coma that lasted several months.  He had nine brain surgeries during that period.  When he finally woke up he was blind.  Somehow, the strain from that many surgeries deadened the optic nerve.  Gradually during recovery he gained back some of his sight.  He had tunnel vision and numerous scatted blind spots in his visual field and was without depth perception.  He was classified as legally blind.  Suddenly when he woke up on the morning of January 7, 1982, when he was almost twenty-eight, he noticed that everything looked different.  Overnight he had gained back some of his vision and depth perception to about half way to what is considered normal.  He had had his last shunt replaced when he was seventeen, so it took all this time for recovery.

Kris graduated from high school a year later than most other his age since it took him longer to complete his studies due to illness.  He went to and received a Bachelor of Arts degree from the Evergreen State College (a non-traditional alternative college) in Olympia, Washington.  This suited him well since he would have much greater difficulty with the rigid examination protocol at a traditional school.  He needed plenty of time to rest since his endurance was low.  Student volunteers read all of his material to him as his eyes tired very easily since the eye muscle worked overtime to compensate for the areas in his visual field missed by the blind spots.

A year after graduation, he got a job with the federal government for the Social Security Administration at the Seattle Teleservice Center as a service representative, mostly working on the phones.  This type of work was ideal for him since he couldn’t do too much paper or visual work without his eyes becoming over strained.  Whenever he needed to look up or read something, an employee, assigned as a reader for him and others who are blind, read things out aloud until more sophisticated computers took over the reader’s job.

Shortly after Kris gained back some depth perception and increased physical endurance from taking vitamins that he needed, he began to go out to dances to meet people.  He joined the Mountaineers to take their folk dancing lessons and go on easy short hikes.  He had dated a few women before he met me.

After Kris and I talked to each other about our past and the challenges we endured, we were drawn to each other by the mutual understanding of having a disability and dealing with it even though our problems were very different.  It was love at the first sight from the mutual attraction that both of us felt that we were right for each other.  Kris was impressed with my college education and intelligence and, likewise, I was impressed with his.  He was also close to my age being only three and a half year older that I.

The next day after we met, Kris invited me to join him at his older brother’s house on Halloween night to hand out treats to the trick-or-treaters that came by while Eric and his wife took their two daughters (ages five and a half and the other almost three) out trick-or-treating.  Kris and I met Eric at the Applied Physic Laboratory at the University of Washington where he worked to ride with him to his place in Redmond on the Eastside.  His wife prepared dinner for all of us.  I enjoyed very much meeting the family while they had a chance to check me out and give Kris approval that made him feel good.  Eric drove both of us home.

The following week he began to take me out to restaurants for dinner one evening a week.  That first dinner out at downtown Seattle we had only complimentary cocktails, due to last minute cancellations of all dinner reservations to have space for a special function.  We walked a few blocks up the hill to Kris’ one-bedroom condominium, in the First Hill neighborhood.  Luckily Kris had things to prepare for dinner in his small kitchen with painted white cupboards.  That was the only time he cooked for me, not that he was a bad cook.

Kris had a loft style bedroom that was extra large and extended further out than that in most other units in the building.  He was able to fit in a full-sized bed, a chest of drawers, a long and narrow desk and a card table.  The bathroom was upstairs close to the stairs.  There was one huge window that covered the whole side and expanded to both stories.  The kitchen had open space between the sink and cupboards to look out into the living room.  Kris had a few musical instruments, organ, accordion, and harmonica that he played occasionally.

Following the first date in Kris’ place, when I went home after the visit, I would spend the night and sleep on his old sofa that flattened out into a bed to save time commuting.  The next morning I went straight to work.

For our weekly dates we generally ate out at restaurants where we could get discounts by 2-for-1 coupons from the newspaper or ten percent off by showing our bus pass.  We often chose Mexican food with the coupons.  To impress me early in our relationship, Kris took me out to a fancy Japanese restaurant and a movie afterwards that was an exception and we usually went to his condo after dinner out.

After we had been dating for several months, I made an offer to begin cooking dinner at Kris’ condo for us instead of eating out.  I realized that he took me out to eat to impress me, since generally boyfriends are expected to take their girlfriends out to dinner.  But, since neither of us drove and it took more time to take a bus to a restaurant, it would be much easier and less time consuming to cook and eat in.  Kris was elated with my suggestion, since it would be even easier for him.  Without going anywhere in the evening, he could rest his eyes more without having to navigate different places.  From then on I asked him what he would like ahead of time and fixed it during our date.

As our relationship progressed and we became closer to each other by spring of 1984, we began to see each other more often, a few nights a week and a few weekends a month.  We went out together on more Mountaineer activities.  I took him along to picnics and parties with my contacts from the autism society and the Jewish singles.  During the fall of 1984, we enrolled in Mountaineers folk dancing classes so I could learn new things and Kris wanted to take them again to brush up on what he had been taught and to get addition practice.

I got a chance to meet Kris’ parents after we knew each other for several weeks when I was invited to join him to go down to their house for Thanksgiving of 1983.  They lived on Harstine Island, an island in south Puget Sound.  A friend, who was an exchange student from Norway, at the University of Washington drove us there and back for the day.  It was about one hundred miles each way from Seattle.  Eric, Terry and their girls were there whom I met on Halloween night, so there was a full house that was nice.  We all ate at a big table in the big kitchen with an old wood-burning stove that was mostly used as a heater in the mornings and cooking breakfast.  The more modern electric range was used for cooking other meals.

The kitchen was extended from the original one of an old farmhouse that had been transformed into a two-bedroom house with two bathrooms.  Kris’ father had a construction business of aluminum siding and products before he retired and moved out to the island.  So he had extended and added rooms to the house.  The house was heated in the winter by wood in a big stove in the original living room.

The house was a brief walk through the woods to the beach along the Puget Sound.  There were ducks and chickens roaming around the house and a small duck pond.  There were grapevines for wine making and gardens of flowers, herbs, vegetables, and berries.  Kris’ folks also had a big dog (mostly German shepherd) and two cats.

Kris’ parents had kept themselves physically fit by working the land, walking on the beach, playing golf, and going ballroom dancing.  They kept mentally active by reading and playing bridge with friends.  His father, of Norwegian descent, with some Irish, loved to joke with people with his good sense of humor.  The mother, of English decent who was raised on a farm out in the country, was very well organized, which made her dependable and a great planner.  They were friendly and loving with strong family values.

 

Kris’ mother as she got to know me more after meeting me several times began to work with me on improving my appearance–gait, posture, and table manners.  She gave the constructive criticism that I needed never in a condescending manner but only from the concern of her caring heart.   She wanted me to feel better about myself as others become more accepting of me.  Due to autism, I wasn’t aware of what I did that was wrong.  I walked with my legs so far apart that I appeared to wobble.  I began to practice walking with one foot directly in front of the other as I had been shown by a social worker years earlier during my teens, but unfortunately put aside.  Whenever I was standing, I had a tendency to slump forward and stick my stomach out.  Sitting at a table or a chair, I slouched over my food or over my reading material.  I worked on standing and sitting straight, though it took me a long time to perfect it since old ingrained habits are a challenge to transform.

In addition to improving my appearance, I needed to work on how I greeted people.  One day in the spring of 1984 at work in my cafeteria, a friendly woman pointed out to me that whenever I greeted people I never used their names.  Due to autism, I was unaware that it is considered proper etiquette to include the names following hello.  It began to occur to me that whenever others greeted me, they addressed me by name.  Whenever I saw someone, I only said, “hi”, “good morning”, or “hello”.  From then on I had included names in my greetings.  It felt strange in the beginning until I got used to it.

To further my confidence, Kris, who was in the Toastmaster International (training in public speaking), got me to join in the summer of 1984.  I began after I completed my drafting class to avoid schedule conflicts.  Kris said that it had helped him overcome his shyness and thought that it could boost my ability to talk more fluently.  My speech sounded as though I was talking in a second language, rather than native, due to my stuttering.

During the summer, the Toastmasters meetings were informal: meeting one evening every other week at people’s homes when we had potlucks.  The rest of the year the meetings were more formal where we met at Mulligans, a nice bar and grill restaurant at University Village shopping center close to the University of Washington.

During each meeting three speeches (three to five minutes) were scheduled with evaluations following for feedback.  There was a short dinner break and impromptu questions on general topics and vocabulary, where guessing was encouraged, to practice responding to questions on the spur of the moment.  This was a good speaking exercise for me since I had great difficulty in responding to thought provoking things that I hadn’t dealt with much due to a time lag in auditory processing and in accessing knowledge I didn’t use very much.  We also had a contest each meeting to see who used the fewest non-verbal sounds–”umm”, “ohh”, or “okum” (interspersed in my talk).  I made a great deal of improvements after I joined due to greater awareness.

On my first presentation, the “ice breaker”, I was nervous since I wasn’t used to talking in front of a group of about twenty people.  Though the group was interested in listening to my life story on dealing with autism, they pointed out to me in the evaluations that my constant repetitious motion of swaying back and forth was very distracting.  I wasn’t aware at all that I tended to do it whenever standing in place for a while.  While I was working in the cafeteria a few co-workers asked me about my swaying.  From then on, I worked on eliminating swaying during my subsequent speeches and at work, though it took me awhile since old habits aren’t easy to extinguish.

In some of my speeches, I didn’t use good judgment of how to make my topics more interesting but yet clear and easy to understand.  I had a tendency to go too much in depth and get too technical in things that I had strong interests in such as biology and nutrition.  I threw in excessive jargon and terms.  Those with a more limited knowledge of the subject weren’t able to keep all the things straight due to information overload.  It is common for those with autism to delve excessively in a topic that is interesting to them, due to lack of regard of how others would respond.  After I received my evaluations, I learned to tone down on jargon and use more in general terms, but yet keep it interesting.  I did develop a very good sense of what to include in my talks and the timing of things.

 

In June of 1984 when I visited a neighbor who was a single parent with a four-your-old son living in a basement apartment in the same rooming house, I became gullible as she talked about gas leaks in the building and its effects on health.  I mentioned to her that on some days I felt lower in energy than other day.  I had known that exposure to gas could cause flue-like symptoms.  My tiredness could have been from any of the numerous factors–emotional states or certain foods or less stimulation.  I became so concern about gas leaks that I started to look for places to move to.

From work one afternoon, the same woman who taught me to greet others properly took me to her place in Bellevue to show me two rooms available for rent.  She wanted to move out.  Though the house and the area were nice, the rent was too high.

One Saturday, I had a negative experience of looking at a room in someone’s house in Northeast Seattle.  When I met the woman who had a room for rent she had a chilly reception for me.  She made an excuse that I was too young and that she wanted someone who was older.  Apparently she was turned off by something about me.  I was taken aback that she wouldn’t even give me a chance.  I took this as a put-down of my character.

After I saw a few places in the University District, I found a medium-sized furnished room in the basement of a very old rooming house.  It was very close to the University and in a nice neighborhood where sororities were concentrated.  The rent was very low, but yet it was nicer than some of the more run-down places with higher rents.

The charming old-fashioned kitchen with a lot of natural light streaming in, that I would share with all of the tenants in the house was one of the selling points.  The bathroom in the basement, that I shared with one man, who also had a room in the basement, was run-down with holes in the wall and pipes sticking out.  That didn’t matter much as I hardly spent anytime in there.  The main drawback to my room was that it was difficult to heat in the winter since heat goes up to the upper stories.

Even though I realized later that my neighbor from Wallingford, who scared me into moving out, was paranoid and tended to exaggerated and worry about things that weren’t so, it was just as well that I moved into a much cheaper place to save on rent.  I needed to save more money.  By the time I moved in July of 1984, I was getting closer to Kris and spending more and more time with him and seeing him almost everyday.

One aspect I liked about the move was that I was only a mile away from the Ravenna Puget Consumers Co-op store.  That made it more convenient to shop there while I got my walking in.

Shortly after my twenty-seventh birthday on July 24, 1984, Kris and I became engaged.  He had Martha pick up the gold and diamond ring from a dealer.  She had a store in Downtown Seattle selling antiques and was experienced and knowledgeable in old and used jewelry.  When we visited her and Dani, she presented the ring in an Oriental style satin purse and a small carved wooden jewelry box as a birthday gift.  Kris and I felt that the time was right, that we had known each other for nine months and were sure of each other.  We planned to get married in early spring when it would be easy for both of us to take time off of work to fly to my folks.

The timing was very good for our engagement since my mother had planned a family reunion a few weeks later in middle of August and would be a good time to introduce Kris to my family other then Bob whom he had already met.  I was very lucky to get that week off since it was generally hard to take time off during summer with high demands for vacations.  I didn’t know the dates until after the vacation requests were due and weeks were filled up on the colander.  Kris didn’t have any problems in taking the week off.

My mother and stepfather had moved into a large townhouse with three bedrooms and a family room in the lower level in Rockville, Maryland.  About thirty people on her mother’s side of the family, the Chasans, came from all over the country, including those whom I knew well from our New York days.  We were lucky with the beautiful weather, sunny and not too hot or humid.  It was good for Kris to meet his in-laws-to-be before our wedding and for my mother and other relatives to meet him to be more familiar with one another by the big day.

After living on my own for over two years I finally was able to obtain steady employment through making the right contact at the right time and when the economy began to improve gradually.  This provided a boost in my confidence that I would be able to support myself.  As I interacted with many kinds of people day to day at work, I experienced a growth in social skills that enabled me to form intimate relationships with a close friend and even a steady boyfriend.  My feet were in solid ground with secure employment and a good boyfriend.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.”—Ephesians 2:8-9

1 comment June 27, 2008 dithorsos
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Planting my Feet on Solid Ground (part 2)

One spring day in 1983 several women including I volunteered to help set up for a big banquet which was to be held at the main cafeteria located in the center of Boeing premises.  I was assigned to help an employee from that facility to prepare lettuce.  As we worked and talked, Dani praised me for my work and gave me encouragement.  Though many of my co-workers were friendly, I didn’t feel the special connection with them as I did for Dani as we were drawn together.  She seemed very poetic and spiritual.  I began to have a vision of us becoming good friends.

Shortly after the banquet, Dani got transferred to my cafeteria was helpful for developing our friendship.  She worked by the three-compartment sink that was in the middle of the production center and was in charge of washing lettuce and other produce and helping another woman prepare vegetables for the salad bar.  By having contact with Dani regularly, we had a good opportunity of getting to know each other and become close friends.

I was more determined than ever to keep the friendship strong rather than let it peter out as I had in the past.  Part of the reason why Dani felt comfortable with me was probably that she had a challenge herself and her small granddaughter had a disability.  Dani had glaucoma in her one of her eyes that was big and obvious.  A large opaque area covered all of her one lens.  She had also experienced other hardships, such as losing her husband at a young age when their only child a son was only two years old.  She was forty when I met her.

The grandchild, who was a year and a half, was deaf though she was able to hear a tiny bit in one ear.  Her other ear was severely underdeveloped without any function due to cleft pallet.  Her face was so severely disfigured at birth that she had had surgery to improve her looks.  Her facial features still weren’t even, the upper lip higher on one side with scars, and her nose twisted to the side.  Despite all that, she was a beautiful girl.

Dani had a two-bedroom house with a one-car garage all on one level where her mother and dog lived with her.  Martha was very kind and liked me.  She was happy that Dani chose me as a good friend.  She had a small black dog that was very friendly and cute.  I began to come over their place to sleep over and to go to church with them during the summer.  On a Saturday afternoon, I went by bus to south Renton up a hill and walked a few blocks to where they lived.  I often stayed until Monday morning so I could go straight to work from there.  I came over more frequently (several times a month) during the fall and winter.  The first thing I did after saying hello was to go out for a long walk to explore their Cascade Vista neighborhood for several hours and then back by dinner time.

Dani and Martha were devout Christians who were very active in their church that was in north Kent, just south of Renton.  Whenever I visited, I went with them to church plus going to other church activities such as summer picnics and a monthly care group meeting at people’s homes for prayer and fellowship.  I was interested in learning about various religions and denominations to gain a greater perspective of where people were coming from culturally.  Some of the church members were very friendly and gave me gifts and invited me to their houses.  On Sunday afternoons after the morning church service, Dani and Martha had an open house with dinner for the congregation.

I always had some spiritual leanings as far back as I could remember.  I felt on several occasions when I was in troubling or dangerous situations that I sensed divine intervention to protect me and lead me into safety.  Whenever things were going rough, I always felt at least a glimmer of hope that things could improve.  I also sensed that even though people were not treated as equals, that some how we are created as equals.  We each have our own challenges, triumphs, and gifts and need hope, faith, love, and peace.  I was drawn to the spiritual nourishment from church.  I became very interested in growing in my faith and encourage others as they encourage me.

By getting together frequently with Dani and her friends at church, I was provided with good opportunities to sharpen my social skills that helped boost my confidence in mingling with other people.  Besides was feed spiritually by the church with emphasis on love and forgiveness for all including myself.  I became more spontaneous in conversations.  I tended to talk when something had triggered a remembrance, but it wasn’t easy for me on my own to come up with a topic that others might find interesting.  Though I made some gradual improvement, I still had a long way to go to be in the flow and rhythm of conversations.  I was on the road of forming intimate relationships, close friendships and to have boyfriends.

 

During the spring of 1983 when I worked for several months in food service, I began to think of ideas of careers in some technical fields–computers, electronics, or drafting.  I thought that if I got training in any of these areas at a community college, I might increase my chances of being hired by large company such as Boeing.  I could utilize my skills, creativity, and fine motor control for greater career advancement and to earn more money so I could eventually save enough for a down payment for a house.  Perhaps some day I would be able to transfer to a university for a second degree with even greater opportunities.  I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a dead-end job all my life.  I knew that I could do something that used my mind more.

I looked into programs that were offered at the North Seattle Community College, only three miles from my place.  I had caught the bus up the block from me that went to the school.  I wouldn’t need to quit my job, since I could take an evening class easily with the bus running frequently all through the evening.  I chose electronic drafting because I felt that I would do well in it with my superior drawing ability and that the field had practical applications in big companies that design systems.  Besides it had one of the shortest waiting lists to enroll–a few months compared to as long as two years for electronics engineering technology.

During the school year 1983/84 when I was twenty-six from the fall quarter through spring, I went to introductory electronics drafting class two evenings a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I enjoyed learning all of the procedures of drafting.  As I had during my college days, I wanted to try out different things here and there to explore new areas of interests that might lead to new avocations.  I didn’t think that I would ever make enough to support myself with my major skill and favorite activity, visual art.  So I contemplated and explored other areas that I thought would be practical.

By my third quarter of the first year of drafting, my interest wasn’t high enough to pursue it further.  I didn’t mind the activity, but was not very enthused with it.  Though drafting like drawing a picture involve putting lines and things on paper, it didn’t use my creativity very much and it was much more exacting.  I felt that I was just following directions to produce blueprints according to the exact specifications.  But, overall it was a good learning experience for me.  I didn’t enroll in more classes since I didn’t know what area to get training in.  Besides I was contented to stay in food service.

 

During the summers while I worked in Renton, following my shift, I went swimming in Lake Washington at the Gene Coulon Park.  It was about a half mile away from my cafeteria so it was an easy walk for me.  Throughout the season there were several lifeguards seated atop the high benches watching the swimmers.  Whenever it was hot and sunny, especially when school was out for the summer, there would be so many people that I barely had enough room in the swimming area by the docks to swim laps.  But, it was a lot of fun watching young ones enjoy playing in the water.  I usually went to the lake several times a week.  I changed into my swimsuit at work before I left to free up the women’s bathroom at the park.  After I swam for over an hour at a time, I walked a little bit and changed back into my clothes before I took a bus back to Seattle.

Other times of the year, I swam in the Olympic-sized pool at the Stroum Jewish Community Center in Mercer Island, a small island in Lake Washington between Seattle and Bellevue.  I had attended several festivals there that were advertised in the newspaper.  When I read about the activities, including classes, after-school programs, and support groups, I went to the Jewish Singles meetings which planned about two get-togethers a month and gave free admission to the community pool on Wednesday evenings with membership.

I joined in the spring of 1983 after the community celebration that centered around the Jewish holiday, Purim, since the annual dues was only five dollars and it seemed like such a good deal considering that many places charged a few dollars for just one swim.  A few evenings a month, if I had enough energy left by the end of the day, I went by bus and got off at an exit of the highway and walked several blocks to the center.

Besides the use of the pool that was my primary reason for joining, I participated in a few gatherings with the singles group, especially when we met at people’s homes, to go to swimming/Jacuzzi parties, and when a hike was planned.  There were other activities where people met at restaurants, theaters, and bowling alleys.  I didn’t care so much to go to these places that were less personal and cost money that I didn’t have much of.  I did go to meet them at a restaurant in Tukwila for a happy hour where complimentary hor d’oerves was served.  I didn’t realize that I was expected to order drinks to more than make up the cost of the food.  But I avoided anything alcoholic and I didn’t see the non-alcoholic options.

 

After I settled down in Wallingford, I became even more involved with the Mountaineers.  From the winter of 1983 through fall, I went on at least one hike every weekend, including when I was sick with a bad sore throat and cough.  I was determined to explore as much as possible to see as much as there was to see in case I moved out of state.  I had thoughts of moving back to my folks in Maryland a few years later.

When it got warmer, I went on weekend camping trips with hiking both days, car camps and backpacking about five weeks in a row and for the three-day weekend holidays when I could get more hiking.  During the evenings we gathered wood near the campground for a campfire except when prohibited or when we stayed in cabins.  The fire was especially nice when it got too dark to do anything else other than socializing which I was weak in.  Watching the flowing forms of the fire was very meditative.  I enjoyed listening to others talk.

For my brown-bag meals I packed salad vegetables with beans and rice for the first day and crackers and cashews for the subsequent days, both lunch and supper.  For breakfast I brought melons or dried fruit that packed well and didn’t require preparation prior to mealtime.  Unlike most campers, I didn’t want to bother packing and using a camp stove.  I didn’t need anything heated.  It was a lot easier to bring all ready-to-eat foods.

My mind tended to fixate so much on food that during meal times, my eyes focused on the food that other people brought.  Due to autism, I didn’t understand that this was a form of imposing on others.  They very likely thought that I was very hungry and didn’t have enough to eat.  Some of them felt sorry for me and offered me some of their snacks and even part of the main meal including sandwiches or entrees.  It didn’t occur to me why they were so generous other than when they passed something around to everyone.  I just enjoyed the handouts, sampling different foods for my insatiable appetite that was even greater than usual from a great deal of physical exertion of day hikes.

Often following a hike, we stopped in a restaurant near the trailhead on our way home for additional fellowship.  While others had their orders of snacks or desserts, I just had water and sat with them since I didn’t have money for anything on the menu.  Sometimes someone shared side dishes with me.  Once, several mountaineers on an extended weekend trip even treated me to a meal at a fast-food establishment since they probably figured that I was too poor to purchase a meal out.  I didn’t realize that it would have been better if I ordered at least a little bit of something as to avoid becoming a subject of pity.  Though I always allowed money for reimbursing the driver for gas, I should have set some aside for eating out to become better company with others.  When we ate at restaurants for all of the main meals, I brought in my own food and ate it when everyone else had his or her orders.  As part of autism, I didn’t realize that it was considered very rude to bring in food from the outside.

By the middle of the summer, following months of hiking regularly, especially after all that weekend trips, I and others who knew me noticed that I had lost weight, about fifteen to twenty pounds.  It was from burning a greater amount of calories and speeding up my metabolism with a lot of exercise from the frequent hikes which averaged about ten miles with an elevation gain of two-thousand feet a day on the weekends.  Though I had kept up with my physical fitness regimen with jogging and walking for years, it didn’t add up to the energy expanded by the weekly hikes.  When it got wetter and cooler and I signed up for fewer outings to the mountains I gained back all of my weight.

 

After a few years of not dating anyone, I went on a date in the spring of 1983 with a young man whom I met in the food service at Renton.  Russ (not his real name) helped out doing the dishes with a few other men.  He was about two years younger than I and had some mild autistic characteristics, pedantic speech and less developed communicative and social skills.  He was slim with a moderate build, blond hair and blue eyes.  He participated in the Special Olympics that enable those with disabilities to practice and compete in various athletic events.  He was friendly and invited me to his place for dinner after work.

Russ, like me, didn’t have a car so we went by bus to his house in Renton.  He lived with his parents and younger brothers, two of whom also had disabilities and were in the Special Olympics.  The house was up the hill in the same neighborhood as Dani and Martha.  Russ’ mother didn’t appear to cook as the kitchen was full of junk food and I was served a frozen dinner.  Even though this date wasn’t nearly as romantic as being taken out to a nice fine-dining restaurant where the food would be much better, I enjoyed going to his house to see where he lived, and best of all, to meet his family.  I left early in the evening so I would get home by bus before dark.  On another afternoon, I bumped into Russ and on the spur of the moment he took me out for dinner at Wendy’s in the Renton Center.  I had the salad bar.

Though Russ was a nice man, I felt that we didn’t have enough common interests to sustain our relationship.  We stopped dating after the second date though I enjoyed getting to know him and we remained on friendly terms at work.

Through my mid twenties I began to accept that I wasn’t cut out to eventually marry.  I had such a low image of myself that I felt that the only men that I would ever attract were those who were down and out either due to internal or external circumstances or both.  I lacked confidence in attracting a man of high caliber who succeeded in life or had high potential, like some who went on Mountaineer trips with me.  My deficits in appearance, social skills, and self confidence which were painfully obvious made it challenging for a man I would be interested in to take me as his girl friend.

As a coping mechanism, I rationalized that I was too intelligent and creative to get involved with anyone as I needed more time for my art.  Unfortunately, this is a form of copping out or running a way from the problem rather than facing it head on for a more effective solution.

After I went on several Mountaineer camping trips during the summer of 1983 where I observed how couples relate to one another, I began to develop a longing to find someone who would be right for me.  I had always enjoyed being touched or massaged, and I loved the idea of snuggling with someone close.  I envied the spontaneous effortlessness as the couples talked.  I began to realize how lonely I was at home even with attending activities and visiting friends and family.  My friendship with Dani and spending time at her place, with a greater opportunity to develop social skills, propelled me into believing that perhaps it is possible for me to have a boy friend.

My longing to find a man who was right for me got much stronger when I attended the wedding, in August of 1983, of my friend Laura who I had met at the Washington Protection and Advocacy System.  Laura met her husband at the monthly statewide advocacy meetings.  Mark lived and worked in Port Angeles, on the north coast of the Olympic Peninsula, doing advocacy.  The wedding was held in their house located in the country outside of Port Angeles.  Even though there were a lot of people, there was room for me to sleep over two nights on the floor in my sleeping bag so that I could spend a full day on the wedding day and to make the weekend out of it.  I went by Greyhound Bus on Friday evening and got a ride home on Sunday.  The wedding and barbecue meals were held outdoors in the backyard with beautiful weather.

When I sensed how the newlyweds loved each other and had a lovely contemporary style home with skylights and wood beams, I became envious and wanted the same for myself.  After attending Laura’s wedding, I began to affirm that I should find someone to marry some day.  I realized that I shouldn’t give up hope of attracting a man who would be right for me.

I was hopeful in the autumn of 1983, when my male pen pal with autism drove all the way from the Midwest to Seattle to meet me.  I heard about Dan (not his real name) through my pen pal Jean L. whom I had met at the autism conference at Boston two years earlier.  I was informed that he had a Bachelor of Science degree in mathematics and that he was interested in finding a woman to marry.  We corresponded a few times before he wanted to see me.  I wasn’t too concerned that he was fifteen years older than I.  I felt that it would be more important that there would be a mutual understanding between us with our respective backgrounds with autism.  He found my work number and called me at work one day to hear my voice before he drove west, so that he could get a better impression of me.

Though Dan didn’t have a job then, he was able to afford to stay at a motel north of Seattle and take me out to restaurants for several days.  He lived with his parents who were apparently well to do with the father being a lawyer.  Since our diets were very different–his meat and potatoes and mine vegetarian, the all-you-can-eat buffet places such as the King’s Table worked out the best.

Both Dan and I enjoyed going on drives to see the scenery so he drove us to parks on scenic routes through the farm lands and wooded areas on the way to meetings and friends’ houses.  This gave me opportunities to explore areas that were normally inaccessible without a car.  Due to autism, Dan lacked a sense to wait his turn to speak and often interrupted a group discussion, a similar problem to mine.  In addition, when invited with me to people’s homes for dinner he didn’t touch any food he was unfamiliar with.

As common in autism, Dan had great difficulty in controlling his emotions.  For example, at a Mountaineers party where I spoke to several people including other men, Dan got jealous and felt that I had deserted him.  Apparently this reflected feelings of insecurity and low self-esteem.  As someone alerted me that Dan was very upset and was going to leave without me, I ran over to him to comfort and assure him that I didn’t mean to abandon him and cared for him.  He calmed down enough to take me home.

Though Dan was able to be nice and loving at times, I felt that he wasn’t a right mate for me.  His libido was too strong for me.  As much as every five to ten minutes, he kissed me with tongue touching.  Bob and Jean, who had invited him with me to dinner one evening, agreed with me and were relieved that I broke off with him.  Though I had always enjoyed affection and being touched, I felt that Dan over did it.  I didn’t like that he was also too physical and controlling.  For example, he blocked my access to extra food left on our table in a restaurant whenever we went out, though it probably was better for me to refrain from eating more food than I needed.

I was very nervous about making a decision about continuing or discontinuing our relationship.  On the one hand, if I continued to see him I wouldn’t be as lonely and he would be willing to move near me.  On the other hand, if we broke up I would have greater opportunities to find someone more compatible.  I had so much anxiety as to cause diarrhea.

What hastened my decision to break up with Dan was that he wanted way too much commitment at once.  He wanted to find an apartment for us to live together so we could see each other everyday.  There was no way that I would move in with a man that I just meet, especially without marriage.  Though I had always considered myself to be open minded and liked to try new ideas, I had always had old-fashion views of marriage and sex–no living together or sex before marriage.  I needed the freedom to go out as I pleased and be available to date other men.

Shortly after Dan left he called me to tell me that he was so heartbroken that he got thrown out of his motel from screaming and disturbing the peace.  He was suicidal since he had become very depressed from the break up of our relationship.  He went back to living with his parents in the Midwest and called me a few months later to let me know that he was hanging on in his life.  Even though he wasn’t right for me, I wished him the best.

Add comment June 20, 2008 dithorsos
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Planting My Feet on Solid Ground

 

PLANTING MY FEET ON SOLID GROUND

 

What Am I Worth?

Am I worth of who my parents are?

Am I worth of where I came from?

Am I worth of what my challenges are?

Am I worth of what my talents are?

Am I worth of how well I interact with others?

Am I worth of what my job title is?

Am I worth of how much money I make?

Am I worth of where I live?

NO!, my worth is not be judged by the things I HAVE.

But, only by what I AM.

It is WHAT I do with what I have,

That gives me WORTH as a human being of what I am.

As I became more settled down with a more permanent place to live and a steady job, I began to focus more on developing intimate relationships with friends and boyfriends.  As I had lived on my own for a few years and had come in contact with others and deal with them I learned lot about people.  I become more interested in them as to develop good friendships.

 

When I arrived back to the Puget Sound area in January of 1983, Bob and I looked in the newspaper classified ads for rooms for rent that I could move into.  My interest had shifted from cooperative housing to rooming houses where each renter is provided with a room with shared bathroom and kitchen use (shared or private), but without the common living areas that are included in cooperative households.  I figured that it would be easier for me to get into a rooming house or a cheaper studio apartment than it would into places that are more community based where there would be the greater concern of total strangers accepting me and giving me a chance.  By living more on my own, there wouldn’t be any worry of being expected to conform with a group, especially with shared meals where sticking to my diet would be more challenging, and about people who lack understanding of my background and who weren’t always nice about accepting me.

Bob drove me around to several places in the evenings and weekends in Seattle.  We viewed two mother-in-law basement studio apartments.  One was too dark and dismal looking and the other one was very nice with sliding doors to the back yard but too expensive.  We saw one studio in the basement of a regular apartment building in Ballard.  Though the apartment was nice by itself, the view was poor looking out into the parking lot and another building across the way without any vegetation to be seen.  I never demanded spectacular views–water and mountains–and I had always been contented with more commonplace scenery as long as I could see some form of plant life growing.

Finally, the fourth place we saw was in a rooming house that met all of the criteria I was looking for.  The room, that I signed a lease on, had a lot of natural light beaming through, a good view of the residential street with houses and shrubbery and the rent was reasonable with the utilities included.  There were windows facing north and east.  The room was fully furnished so I didn’t need to buy any furniture.  There was a full-size bed and Bob gave me sheets for it.  I used my cheap sleeping bag as a quilt.

Whenever I was home I kept myself busy drawing or reading.  I read as I sat on the old brown vinyl reclining chair that came with the room.  Most of the time I had my stereo on to a soft rock station, which I had placed on my navy blue footlocker by the north window.  My taste in music got more mature and I got away from hard rock, including heavy metal that I had listened to previously.  I didn’t have a television because I wasn’t interested enough to watch anything that would justify the cost of buying one.  Though I had a second thought of getting one just in case there is a special that I wanted to see and looked in the newspaper ads, I decided that I didn’t needed it since there had been plenty of things for me to do without one.  I had Bob and Jean store my drawing table since there wasn’t enough space.  I used the table that was in the kitchenette corner for both drawing and eating.

The kitchenette was equipped with all of the basics–a small refrigerator with a tiny freezer inside the main compartment, a small stove/oven range, a sink, and wood cupboards.  Bob and Jean gave me their old dish rack since I needed one and washed the dishes by hand.  When I visited my folks in Maryland and Pennsylvania, they gave me the kitchen basics that I had somehow managed without: mugs, a pot with lid, knives, and a complete silverware setting.

I shared the bathroom with three other women.  The old-fashioned bathroom, which was large, had a big textured window and an old bathtub with an added on shower hookup.  I was on the second floor that was accessible by stairs from the main hallway of the old charming house.

There were laundry facilities in the basement that was convenient for me rather than hauling my things to the Laundromat.  Although when there was a break down that lasted for a long time, I still avoided the commercial places.  Whenever I went to see Bob and Jean, especially since I went every week anyway, I brought my laundry with me and used their machines.  That saved me the inconvenience of going to the Laundromat and having to spend time there, besides saving money.

I was centrally located in the Wallingford neighborhood in Seattle that is close to the University of Washington and Lake Union and other attractions.  It was too bad that my friend Laura who had lived previously only blocks away had moved away to the Olympic Peninsula.  It would have been nice to stop by to see her on my walks.  I jogged all over the area including the popular parks nearby, such as Gas Works and Green Lake.  Gas Works that is on Lake Union contains remnants from an old gas production company.  Green Lake, which was a mile from me, has trails for bikes and pedestrians that go over three miles all around the manmade lake.

The bus service was very good in my area with a choice of three buses to downtown.  I was also able to go to other places just as easily with a straight shot–to all sorts of community events at the Seattle Center which was the site of the 1962 World’s Fair, and to the shopping malls in the north end.  This added greater flexibility in going places on my own.  This was especially useful whenever I needed to meet my driver early in the morning to be picked up for Mountaineer hikes.

 

To stretch my food dollar and food stamps I discovered the food bank and went there; while I was house sitting to pick up my monthly allotment of the government commodities and food donations by businesses and individuals. Luckily a woman was able to drive me home since it would have been too much of a load for me to carry on the bus.  Whatever things I didn’t use, such as meats and butter, I passed onto Bob.  Since I liked cheese occasionally and it was good to use for potluck dishes, I kept that even though I wasn’t supposed to have dairy products.  Even though I didn’t care very much for canned goods, they were good additions to my cooking and baking.

When I first moved to Wallingford, instead of going to a church building to pick up things from the food bank, an elderly man volunteered to pick up my allotments and delivered them in his station wagon to me once a week until I got a job.  That saved me from hauling everything on the bus.

Shortly after I arrived back to the Northwest from the east coast in January while I was staying at Bob and Jean’s before I moved into my place, Bob and Jean had a party with several people.  This turned out to be an important gathering I was in.  This was when I made a contact with a man with connections who gave me a job lead.  As I talked to him, I mentioned to him that I had been unemployed and that I was capable of doing many kinds of jobs and that I would be willing to learn new things.  George was the district general manager of ARA (Automated Retail Association) Services, Inc.; Puget Sound district had contracted with businesses to provide food and laundry services.  He was confident that he would be able to get me a job in food service at Boeing that had contracted with ARA Services.

I went to the district administrative offices, located in Tukwila, to fill out the employment application and indicated that I would be flexible as I felt that this would put me at an advantage.  There was an opening for a part-time general cafeteria position at the Boeing Seattle Plant II.  The Targeted Tax Credit Program that was set up to encourage and provide a reduction in taxes for employers to hire individuals with challenges and give them chances of which my employer was eligible upon hiring me.  I was hired and waited for my badge and nametag that was required for entry into Boeing property, to be made in order to start.  On a Friday morning about two weeks later, I was informed that my badge and nametag was done and I was to start my new job the following Monday.

On February 21, 1983, I began my food services job part-time.  I went by bus with a transfer in Downtown Seattle going through the industrial area in south Seattle.  My cafeteria was on the major street.  There was a pedestrian underpass since the arterial was very busy with many pedestrians.  In the mornings five days a week from Monday through Friday I usually arrived early so I would have enough time to have breakfast at the cafeteria before my five-hour shift began at nine.  I had a half-hour lunch break so I was done at two thirty.

Each employee was provided with a polyester smock, plaid with navy blue and orange lines on white, to be worn with navy blue pants and a sturdy pair of shoes with good support.  The supervisors were provided with white smocks to be worn with their navy blue pants.  I thought my smock was ugly with the fabric of manmade material and colors that were too clashed for my taste, though I didn’t mind wearing it during my shift as long as I had my shirt on underneath.

I was placed behind the scenes in the production center that was located in the main cafeteria.  Boeing Plant II had a bunch of food plazas scattered throughout the Seattle facility, in which food was prepared and packaged a day before and shipped from the production center.  Before service hours, the breakfast foods, grilled sandwiches, entrees, and TV dinners were heated and put out on display.  This system provided express service and saved Boeing workers time from having to go to a full service cafeteria and waiting to be served.  This way, people had an option to stay in the building and grab something quick to eat.

I was assigned to basic tasks that were included in my job classification of general cafeteria worker; putting food into containers, wrapping, and placing labels on them.  Each day there was a printout of the number of servings of each item to prepare.  Food was dished up after it had cooled into the containers that were counted out according to the figure on the production sheet.  After I filled each container and wrapped it, I placed it on a rack tray.  When each rack was full, I put it in a tall cart on wheels.  When I was done I wheeled it into a large walk-in cooler that was the size of a huge room.

During my first two weeks while most of the other workers were sent out to various locations to serve the customers directly or do cashiering, I remained on the floor finishing working on production.  My poor posture, crude gait, and my speech impediment apparently made people feel uncomfortable in placing me in direct contact with the patrons.  I didn’t mind since I was content in doing solitary work that allowed me to daydream.

After I was there for a few weeks, I was sent out to the dish room to help two other people when it was busy during lunchtime.  I mostly helped by getting the dishes and trays off the conveyor belt and put them in the commercial dishwasher.  The silverware was placed in special racks for soaking in water.  When the rack was full I placed it into the machine.  I liked the change of pace of working in more than one place during my shift.  After I worked in that section for a month, I was sent back to remain in the production area since they felt that they could manage okay without my assistance in the dish room.  I was a little bit disappointed, but I quickly adjusted to the change back to my original schedule.

For my shift I was entitled to two meals a day–breakfast and lunch, for free, though the taxes for these meals were deducted from my paychecks.  The value of them was considered income to be taxed along with regular income since I would need to purchase less food.  During lunch, especially the first week, I took so much food that I couldn’t finish it during my half-hour break.  With the availability of all that free food, I went crazy and took as much as I could carry on the tray.  I wanted to eat as much as possible so I wouldn’t need to buy as much for supper.  Whatever food was left I brought with me into the dish room or the production area.  When my shift was done I ate whatever I had left, even when I was already full from a huge meal.  We weren’t allowed to take any food out of the cafeteria, even things that would be thrown away.  By the end of my first week I learned to scale back on my meal to take what I could finish during my break.  I had had digestive problems from eating too much.

Generally the people, who worked with me, were very friendly.  They were mostly young women in the twenties like me, though there was a wide range of ages–from the late teens through the seventies.  They respected and accepted me for whom I was.  We talked to each other that were very good for my social development.  Though my supervisor spoke less to me after she knew me more, she was still friendly.  On the first day when she showed me what to do and worked with me, she talked non-stop and so much that I had difficulty in keeping up with what she said.  She probably sensed that I felt uncomfortable listening so much.  I wasn’t as attentive as I should have been due to my sensory overload.  Also my efficiency was reduced whenever I concentrated on listening to others, even though I could do more than one thing at a time, but just not as well in anything.  Though many others had no problems in working and talking simultaneously.

The food service establishment environment, with many different people around, was very good for developing my social skills.  I was provided with many opportunities to interact with others, especially during breaks and when I started and finished my shift.  I was no longer socially isolated as during my days when I was unemployed.  As I worked with a greater exposure to social situations, I became more comfortable interacting with others.  My attention span gradually increased, though I still had long ways to go.  Though some of the improvement could have been attributed to my diet with fewer animal foods and more wholesome vegetarian foods.

The cafeteria was a union shop so I was required to join a labor union within thirty days of employment.  Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees (HERE), an affiliate of AFL-CIO federal conglomerate of unions, were involved with the three-year-contract negotiations.  Each contract included hourly rates structure, according to job classification and years of service, paid holidays and vacations, and some coverage of insurance in health and dental care with a contract with an insurance provider.  I liked the idea of union representation so that our voice could be heard more for better wages and benefits.

 

Just before I was hired, I received a letter from public assistance that my request for assistance was denied.  It stated that I wasn’t disabled enough and that I was capable of working.  That was okay since I was about to earn enough money though small to cover my basic expenses.

It helped a lot to keep my expenses very low without having a car or children.  Even with the availability of street parking by me, I didn’t feel a need for a car since I had been managing very well without one and was satisfied.  I was content to be without the worry of the expenses and maintenance of owning and driving a car.  Since out of economic necessity I didn’t have a choice, I was happy with what I did have and not concerned with what I didn’t have or need. 

I kept my food bill very low buying all unprocessed vegetarian foods besides having ten meals a week in my cafeteria.  Having food stamps left to carry me over into a few months of my job helped.  I had been taking advantage of the monthly specials at the Puget Consumers Co-op mostly for the bulk food items (grains and beans) and fresh produce.  I avoided ordering food at restaurants.  I also didn’t spend any money for entertainment, especially since there were a lot of free things to go to in Seattle.  With my thriftiness and despite my low earnings, I managed to save a little bit from each paycheck, even from part-time hours.

 

During the end of my eighth week at the Boeing Plant II cafeteria in April of 1983, I was informed that I no longer had a position there and a transfer was placed for me to the Boeing Renton Plant effective the following Monday.  While I worked in Seattle, a young female employee was out on maternity leave and came back to work shortly before I left.  I had noticed that when we had more people on the floor there was less work to go around.  It made sense that they couldn’t keep me there anymore.  Just when I was getting to know my coworkers it was time for me to leave.  I was nervous about my transfer with a longer commute or change of hours, though I felt lucky that there was an opening at Renton that made the transfer possible to avoid laying me off.

Actually, the commute to Renton, on the southern tip of Lake Washington about fifteen miles south of Seattle, wasn’t that bad with still two buses each way.  It only took about fifteen minutes longer each way to get there than to Plant II.  In a way I enjoyed the trip to Renton more since I went through more of the residential areas rather than industrial ones.  Though I warmed up to a more scenic commute there were some adjustments that I needed to make.

The main thing that I was disappointed in when I first began at the Renton plant, was that I would make less money due to a reduction in my hours–from five hours a day down to four.  Though my hourly rate was about to be increased after the probation period of sixty days.  Just when I got used to making a certain amount of money, it was a downer to start making less, especially without any advance warning.  Considering my background with autism and without any prior notice of the change, I didn’t do too badly emotionally.

I still was able to manage with less income, mostly by saving less.  I even was able to begin to have a small amount deducted from my paycheck every week for United States Savings Bond when Boeings had an annual spring US Savings Bond drive.  I quickly adjusted and began to enjoy having more free time as money isn’t everything or a guarantee to happiness.

At Renton, as in Plant II, I was placed in the production center in the second largest cafeteria.  It was back from the main road at the north section of the facility.  I did basically the same things as I did at the other place–placing food in containers, wrapping, and labeling.  I was also introduced to other tasks–making labels, using the sealer for sandwiches and desserts, and packing things to be sent out.  While most people were sent out to provide direct service, I remained with my supervisor, who was an older white haired woman in her sixties, in production.  With the challenge of the way I held myself, management, as in the other plant, didn’t feel comfortable in sending me out where I would be in front of customers.

My hours started out to be nine ‘o clock in the morning to one in the afternoon with only a ten minute break for lunch.  During such breaks I had just enough time to grab everything onto a heaping plate and take a few bites of it.  I saved most of my meal for after my shift and put it in the cooler.  I didn’t mind having everything cold.  Most of the other employees who worked four or five hours a day just had something quick to eat that they could finish within ten minutes and get back to work in time.  Most people ate faster than I could.

After a week of the grab-now-and-eat-later regimen, my supervisor who noticed what I had been doing informed me that it would be okay to have a half hour lunch, but I was required to end my shift a half hour later.  Before, I liked the idea of eating later so I would have more time to build up my hunger so I could eat more.  With the revised plan I was able to eat with others rather than alone.  This enabled me to visit with others more that overall was more enjoyable than eating later alone.

Though people were generally nice to me, I felt that I received a rather chilly reception from my supervisor the first week.  This reflected my low self-esteem.  But, Dorothy, after she got to know me more soon began to feel more comfortable with me and opened up and was able to joke with me.  Though she was able to have fun and laugh with people, she had a serious side.  Often with her brusque manner she reminded the workers to hurry up because there was a lot of work to do.  Initially I felt a little taken aback and maybe that I didn’t work very fast.  After a while, I began to realize that she said the same thing to everyone and I did work just as quickly as anyone else.  This was confirmed when my employee evaluation was gone over with me and she had rated me high with performance, cooperation, and attitude.

Generally at my Renton cafeteria, as compared to that in Seattle, the staff tended to be older and put more time into service.  This reflected the demographics of the surrounding areas.  Young adults in their late teens through the twenties tended to be attracted to the big city.   Older people in the thirties and beyond are more inclined to live in outlining areas.  There was still the similar range of ages as in my first facility but with a greater shift towards the more mature.  Many of my co-workers were in the thirties.  This was an interesting observation for me as it taught me that people in different age groups are more likely to prefer different places to live. 

Even though I hardly ever told jokes or only occasionally displayed good humor, I had always appreciated hearing jokes from others.  Though I didn’t laugh very much, humor helped take my mind off my problems and lifted my spirits.  It is very important in this stressful world and living stressful daily lives that we look at the funny side of things as a good coping mechanism.  Several of my co-workers were very humorous and in turn fun to be with. 

One young woman, who was a little bit older than I, was very funny and had a knack for telling one joke after another.  Patty was the cafeteria clown.  Jokingly, she often commanded “hurry up” in a foreign language (Spanish).  She was well liked by others.  It was a very good thing that she was able to have fun and make others laugh since her life wasn’t easy.  She was a single parent raising a five-year-old son in a low-income housing, though she did get married a few years later.

 

Even since I lived on my own and had worked and came in contact with more people, I had developed ideas of stereotypes.  I never used stereotypes as a base to form prejudices against anyone from any grouping.  Throughout out my growing-up years through my college days whenever I heard my family members have discussions using stereotypes, it didn’t make sense to me.  It was beyond me to understand why people from certain categories (ethnic, occupation, and socioeconomic) are supposed to act in certain ways.  With my relatively sheltered life-style of home and school without joining any activities outside of my classes, I denied myself opportunities to observe and get to know people and learn about the dynamics of society.

After a half a year of volunteering for the Washington Protection and Advocacy System while visiting my family in July of 1981 when I was twenty-four, something clicked and I began to grasp the meaning of stereotypes.  With my contact with various people from the disabled community, I observed that they tended to advocate for greater justice and exhibit more sensitivity towards others.

After working in food service for a while, it became clear that indeed each group contain members that by and large tend to exhibit certain sets of characteristics; food service workers, parents of children with disabilities, religious people, and highly educated people.  I inferred that in both of my cafeterias my co-workers mostly came from a lower socioeconomic class and tended to be highly social and many held views that were more on the conservative side.  I certainly didn’t fit in the mold, but it was a good time for me to be working there and I still got along with them well.

Occasionally, I got surprised when someone did something that I perceived as deviating from the norm among food handlers, such as taking bee pollen, eliminating dairy products, using a water-based vacuum cleaner, and understanding difficult scientific research.  As I got to know each co-worker, I wasn’t so concern with the general group attributes as to cause me to overlook the individuality for each.  The more I knew them the more I realized the commonalties we had–dealing with hardships and emotions and having concern for others.

As the concept of stereotypes is abstract, it is difficult for those with autism, who tend to be much better in concrete concepts, such as animals and computers, to grasp the understanding.  But, it isn’t impossible it just may take longer to learn.  They tend to learn best through book or rote learning rather than drawing inferences of abstract reasoning, such as social cues and attaching certain characteristics to people in different groupings.  It is probably to one’s advantage an inability to see people as stereotypes, as this lack or innocence tend to reduce the chance of one forming prejudices.

There is danger that excessive adherence to viewing individuals as stereotypes could lead to prejudice and discrimination.  They seem to lose their humanness and become like objects that to us could more easily be discarded.  At the most extreme this could cause wars between groups of nations.  It is okay to grasp stereotypes to build comprehension where people come from and what are they more likely to be drawn to.   Only with open mindedness can we see that in any group there are some who don’t fit the mold or share all the characteristics that most of the members have.

Add comment June 20, 2008 dithorsos
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Fixed Errors

I posted a wrong file for my post almost two months ago.  I also posted at  new page instead of the main body.  I was away for almost a month and did not discover them until after I came back home.  Sorry about the confusion this may have caused.  When I make some more errors in the future, hopefully I will get them corrected in a timely manner.

Add comment June 17, 2008 dithorsos
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Building My Wings

BUILDING MY WINGS

Soaring up to New Heights

As the bird develops its wings,

And emerges from the nest.

It flaps it wings awkwardly,

While putting its independence to the test.

It may fall several times,

Before it soars up to greater new heights.

As it practices and gain experience,

It would surely achieve its sights.

I felt sad at the same time I felt some excitement of leaving home for a big adventure of moving so far away from mom and dad and living independently.  This was a period of my life with greater anxiety and a great deal of learning as I struggled through navigating my early adulthood.  I greatly appreciate the new connections with people who were very interesting and supportive.

 

On Sunday morning, January 18, 1981, my mother and Tom drove me to the Trailways bus depot for my departure across the country to the state of Washington.  I wanted to see more of the nation going by bus rather than flying in an airplane.  I took two suitcases to get started on my own and left behind the rest of my belongings to pick up little by little as I come back to visit.  As excited I was about making a change and moving to another place and looking forward to make greater choices in my adult life, I also felt sad to leave my parents, sister, and nieces.  My mother felt sad too and was in tears that I was leaving.  But, she understood that I was entitled to choose where I would live and work since I was an adult and capable of living on my own.

To keep myself occupied especially during stops besides looking out the window at the scenery, I brought along leftover yarn to crochet triangles to be sewn together into a soft sculpture.  Since I didn’t want to rely on expensive junk food that was sold along the way, I packed my own food that would last for several days, including cans of V-8 juice and plenty of homemade crackers that I had baked.

I loved taking in the scenery and the novel sights of wide, open spaces as the bus travel through the Midwest and the plains and to the Pacific Northwest.  The vastness of the fields and farms through sparsely populated areas was a novelty to me since I had lived in large metropolitan areas all my life.  It was interesting to view thunderstorms from miles and miles away and see cattle roaming close to the road.  It was fun going through and stopping at small towns along the way that looked so different from the large cities that I was used to.

Even when I got sleepy I tried to force myself to stay awake to look out the window until I fell asleep.  I wanted to save my dosing off until dark when I couldn’t see as well out.  Luckily at night I had two seats to myself so I was able to stretch out more in addition to reclining.  Even though I was able to fall asleep through the night, it wasn’t a restful sleep.  I woke up every two hours each night.  That was okay since I automatically dosed off when I was drowsy enough.

Through out the trip I met some friendly people who sat down next to me and we would chat for a while.  I sat with one woman at a restaurant while she had breakfast, though I purchased nothing during stops, including those allotted for meals eaten out, to enjoy her company.

During my final day before arrival in Seattle, I had the most interesting conversation with a friendly older woman who was on her way home to Bremerton in the Olympic Peninsula.  She was a foster grandparent to a boy with autism.  That put her in a good position to understand my challenges and to sustain a greater interest in me.  I was impressed to meet someone who was involved with autism.

All the way across the country, the weather was relatively mild for that time of the year.  There were no snow and ice on the roads that made traveling so much easier.  The mild temperatures made it nicer for getting out during stops to stretch my legs and go for short walks whenever I was given enough time.

When we entered the rainy Pacific Northwest, I was amazed how green everything was and that certain trees were in the early stage of blooming.  I had heard that the Northwest tends to get milder winters, but wetter, than the east coast with comparable latitudes.  I didn’t mind the rain since it is just water that our bodies need unless there is enough of it to cause flooding.

 

Finally on Wednesday evening after traveling three and a half days, all day and night by bus with a transfer in Chicago, Illinois, I arrived in Seattle.  Jean (Bob’s companion) picked me up and drove me to their place where I stayed until I found other arrangements.  I took one day off before I got involved with the Washington Protection and Advocacy System (WPAS), then the Troubleshooters, to do some volunteer work.

In the mornings around seven thirty while I stayed with my brother, he drove me to the South Kirkland Park and ride on his way to work to catch any of the express buses to downtown Seattle.  This was easier than walking about a half a mile to the commuter bus that ran through the neighborhood and to downtown, especially since that went by only once every half hour during peak periods compared to every five minutes from the park and ride.  I transferred to a bus that went up the hill through the Queen Anne neighborhood and back down to the Interlake area where WPAS had its office located in the Northwest Center for the Retarded.  I came back to Bob’s place late afternoon on my own.

After a week of going back and forth, I picked up a reduced fare permit in downtown as my bus fare for the month of February.  A doctor who stopped in the office one day signed the application form for the permit for reduced bus fare for senior citizens and disabled people, indicating that I had a permanent disability.  I didn’t have any idea that there was a program in which I would be eligible to go on bus with the reduced rate for those with disabilities until someone in my office brought it to my attention.  The permit itself cost only a dollar and had a photo of me.  This saved a lot of money.  WPAS paid for the monthly stickers while I did volunteer work.

For WPAS, I did basic office work, such as collating, stuffing and addressing envelopes, and copying.  One female worker, Carolyn, supervised and assigned tasks to me.  She was responsible for getting things ready for mailings and distribution.  .  She was a very friendly woman and I valued her as a good human being more than anything that overshadowed her challenges.

Carolyn was poor and lived in low-income housing for women in an old hotel that had been converted into apartments with community lounging areas and cafeteria that served meals for the residents.  It was located in First Hill, close to several hospitals and medical research centers which were just up the hill from downtown Seattle.  She had three children whose father had custody from their divorce and had them visit her on the weekends.

One evening I planned to go to a fund-raising function with the Washington Chapter of the National Society for Autistic Children (WANSAC).  After work Carolyn invited me to her place and treated me to dinner in the cafeteria.  From there we went together to the function that included hor d’oeuvres and a live band playing Jamaican Ray Gay music.

I had done the illustration of a Jamaican musician singing to the microphone for the flyer that was distributed.  I was interested in seeking a career in producing illustrations where I would utilize my artistic talent.  Also for WANSAC I had done an abstract design for a calendar also as a fundraiser.

As part of my job to prepare me for self-advocacy, I attended monthly meetings where advocates with the protection and advocacy system gathered together for ongoing training and support.  Even though I still had difficulty in paying attention to the talks I still enjoyed going to meet with other people and to get out of the rut of the routine office work.  I also liked that sometimes coffee and refreshments were served.  Though I took in the information such as disability and legislature issues in bits and pieces, I absorbed enough of it to understand the gests and how I might be able to apply some of it in the future.

While I still stayed with Bob, I received rides to and from these meetings from a friendly woman, named Mary who had just moved to Bellevue that was very close to Bob’s.  She and her husband had a son with Klinefelder’s Syndrome in which extra “X” chromosomes are present in the genome that effect mental outcomes and behavior.  Mary volunteered for WPAS through a government program, Volunteers in Service to America (VISTA) that paid a stipend to cover basic expenses.

Mary and I developed a good rapport with each other due to our mutual understanding of dealing with the hardships from disabilities though ours were different.  One evening on our way home from a hearing at the state capitol she and her husband treated me to dinner at a restaurant.  At another occasion, they invited me to their lovely home for dinner and the night over breakfast after I called to check on how they were doing.

In addition, the executive director of WPAS, named Katie, took me along to hearings on disability issues in Olympia, the state capitol of the Washington State.  During the early eighties when the government funding was tighter the legislature proposed cuts in services for the needy, including those with disabilities, and said that parents should pay a greater portion for care of their children with challenges.

 

Katie and her husband Duane, who founded WANSAC’ had an adult son with autism who was mute.  The son lived at home with live-in attendant care and attended a day work program at the Northwest Center for the Retarded.  One weekend, I was hired as a substitute to provide him attendant care.  On that Saturday, I went with him on the bus to meet a group of adults with disabilities for an outing to a bowling alley.  I supervised him to prevent inappropriate behaviors and from getting out of control when they occurred.  I also took him out for walks in his neighborhood.  It was easier for me to take him out than to come up with more interesting activities in the house.  Even though I had some understanding of autism from my personal background, I lacked confidence in providing care for the weekend.  I had no problems in the basic things such as getting him ready for the outings and preparing meals.  I had the most difficulty in initiating things to do that he might enjoy.  Katie sensed that I didn’t feel quite comfortable with the job and didn’t hire me again.  Overall, it was a good learning experience for me.

Katie was impressed with my progress after I told her about my story with autism, especially since I wasn’t as affected with it as her son.  She expressed a great deal of optimism in me, though I still had long ways to go in overcoming my challenges.  I still had a speech impediment with voice modulation problems and difficulty of getting into the flow and rhythm of group discussions.  She was very nice to me.  One evening, she treated me to dinner at a restaurant with several other people and invited me to sleep over her house, so we could leave together early in the morning for a hearing in Olympia that was about an hour and a half drive south from Seattle.

While I was at WPAS, I volunteered one hour a week on Thursday mornings to give basic instructions in art to a class of adults with mental retardation.  During the first session, I had given them a whole list of things to do without breaking them down into simplest steps that they could follow better, such as drawing a circle on construction paper and cutting it out, which was beyond them unless I simplify my instructions.  Most of the people were not able to follow my directions and had blank expressions on their faces.  It didn’t take me long at all to figure out that I needed to go over each step, one at a time slowly in order for their brains to process the activity for learning.  This was my first experience in working with people who were mentally deficient.

In that program, some of the participants were very friendly and outgoing despite their retardation.  One woman, named Sharon, was very social and always said “hello” and asked me how I was doing with a smile on her face.  She emanated innocence that tends to be lacking in many people who are more intelligent.  On the other hand there were a few individuals with autism who were extremely withdrawn.  It was very good to be exposed to the diversity within that group as I learned much more about people, from the more severely withdrawn who were non-verbal to the most gregarious who hugged and talked to everyone.

WPAS was generally good about hiring those with disabilities.  There was one woman with rheumatoid arthritis whose hands and legs were disfigured from the disease.  She wore braces to provide support for her hands and arms and walked with a cane.  She did paralegal work with an attorney at the office.  She was going to school to study law with an aspiration to become an attorney on disability issues.

In addition, there was a woman with obesity and glandular problems who had a developmental disability.  She had a speech impediment with disfluency and slowed speech, but she was very articulate.  She did secretarial work for the office and was involved with the People First organization that is made up of people with disabilities to promote self-advocacy.  She lived in a group home, the Liberty House, with five other adults with challenges and a housemother.  It was located in the Ballard neighborhood in Seattle where there is good bus service.

The office also had a prime advocate who answered all of the incoming phone calls and directed them to the right people.  A very friendly woman, named Barbara, from Arizona with a college degree and a background of working for the criminal justice was hired for the job.  She was over a year older than I and we became friends.  One evening we met at the University District to browse through the interesting shops and to buy tights to go with the dress for an evening out with Bob and Jean.

Another very friendly woman, named Laura, had begun to work for WPAS as an advocate for individuals with autism just before my arrival to Seattle.  She had grown up in New Jersey and worked for Co-Ad Inc., Idaho’s Protection and Advocacy Agency in Lewiston, Idaho as part of the Comprehensive Employment Training Act (CETA).  She was close to my age, a little bit over a year older than I and we also became friends.  She helped me often by driving me to all sorts of places from the WPAS office to cooperative housing with rooms for rent, the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation (DVR), employment workshops, and job interviews.

 

Several times throughout 1981, I attended monthly WANSAC parent support group meetings to meet parents of children with autism for them to learn from my personal experience.  I was well received by the group, especially during the early eighties when hardly anyone diagnosed with autism spoke about first-hand accounts about the disorder.  It was a refreshing change for them from only professionals giving talks on their work.  Since the autism spectrum was still very little known, most of the children and adults who were known to be effected had classical or the more severe to moderate cases where they could hardly communicate or speak at all in a normal mode.

I felt elated that people were impressed with my progress of dealing with autism as I was much less affected and had overcome many things, though I still had long ways to go to overcome my related difficulties.  Following the first meeting, I was featured in the WANSAC monthly newsletter for March 1981, Autistic Diary:

               

                “At the February WANSAC meeting we had the pleasure of introducing Debbie Myers to our members.  Debbie is a 23 year old autistic woman who recently moved to Seattle from Maryland and her discussion of her own experience was very enlightening to everyone who attended the meeting.  Debbie is extremely well read on the subject of Autism and seems to have a thorough understanding of her disability as can be seen from her story:

 

                ‘I was born on July 21, 1957 in New York City.  I suffered from childhood autism. I believe my autism was linked with auditory aphasia in which I had difficulty in decifering the messages I heard.  For instance, when people spoke to me it sounded like a foreign language.  I couldn’t learn to talk until I was 5 years old, when I learned to read by associating pictures with words.  These associations opened up new pathways into the auditory processing unit in my brain and provided me opportunities for new experiences.  Before I became verbal, I did some bizarre things such as rocking back and forth, pacing, and throwing books out the windows.  At this time I was enrolled in a special preschool program in Decoby Hospital, New York.  While in this program and in the following few years, I was able to do amazing things for my age such as building elaborate block designs, drawing according to rules of linear perspective, and working with simple fractions.

 

                From ages five to fifteen years old I was enrolled in the League School for the Emotionally Disturbed, where I began to relate to others at a rudimentory level.  When I was 8 years old my behavior patterns became normal and I began socializing more appropriately with other children in my age group.  At the age of 10, as I entered into pubescence, my behavior regressed and I developed unusual obsessions such as needing to be the first person off the bus.  I was having great difficulty concentrating in school throughout puberty and my studies suffered for the next few years until I was 12 1/2, when my behavior once again began to improve.  I was soon better able to concentrate and developed an interest in the sciences.  I did well in math and excelled in art.  My overall performance in school was average according to normal standards for kids my age.

 

                After a temporary stay with my older sister in Ohio where I first attended public high school in the tenth grade for one semester, I moved to Pennsylvania with my parents.  I continued in public high school there until a move to northern Virginia, where I graduated in 1976 at the age of 19.  My overall high school academic performance was good as I had finally learned how to study correctly and became a diligent student.

 

                The following fall, I began my college career at Northern Virginia Community College where I received an Associates degree in Fine Art after 2 years.  I then attended the University of Maryland where I graduated in December 1980 with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Visual Fine Art Studio with a minor in Zoology.  My college academic performance was excellent and I enjoyed all my various courses, my favorite being print making.        

 

                In January I moved to Seattle to be near my older brother in Bellevue, with whom I am currently staying.  I am in the process of looking for housing, preferably in a co-operative living situation, and I am searching for a job.  I would like to be employed as a medical illustrator but would be interested in any work in the art field.  At the moment I am involved in doing volunteer work in the Troubleshooters office and doing work with one of the programs at the Northwest Center.’”             

 

I inserted this biographic sketch without any corrections in grammar and flow to reveal more of my thought processes back then.  Like many others with autism, I included some details that weren’t necessary and didn’t add anything to it other than showing my obsessions of doing well in school.  I even exaggerated my college scholastic performance to boost my ego into believing that I did better than I really had.  Also like many people with the disorder, I didn’t elaborate as much on my interests and hobbies, which was more pertinent to who I was.  Overall, it was very interesting and educational for the members to read.

 It was very good for me to have regular contact with those with more severe disabilities from both the general diversity and autism community.  This had continuously to remind me not to take any of my capabilities for granted and to enable me to gain more understanding of the struggles some people endure with everyday activities that most of us take for granted.  This gave me even greater appreciation for all sorts of people who function at various levels.  No matter how severely effected they were, I felt the beauty of the depths of their soul.

 

One evening when I needed a room for rent, Laura drove me around to look at places that were advertised in the University of Washington.  First we checked the student activities building, the “HUB”, for the want ads on the bulletin board where all sorts of things were posted including off-campus housing.  Since generally many students need a cheap place to live, they opt for cooperative living situations that are less expensive than a small apartment by oneself.  I selected a few in Seattle that were on the bus line and wasn’t far from the university to see.

It was very difficult to find a cooperative living situation in the community that accepted me.  One of the houses where I inquired about a room for rent was very old and had numerous steps leading up to the front door.  A mother with young children rented out rooms in this house to a few people.  I liked the idea that each renter prepared own meals and had their own cupboard space in the kitchen since I was on a special diet.  Though, I sensed that she wouldn’t feel too comfortable with me living there.  She said that she would call me back to let me know her decision, but she never got back to me. 

We went to another housing prospect that was owned by a young single man.  Since he had space for as many as six people, he had two refrigerators in the large kitchen to provide enough room for each individual to store food.  It seemed like a nice place that was close to several bus lines that could get me to downtown or the university easily.  Like the other person I saw for the other place, the young man didn’t seem very receptive of me and indicated that he would call me to let me know about his decision within a week.  He did inform me that he chose somebody else.

As it approached towards the end of February when I already had been with Bob and Jean for over a month, I felt discouraged about ever finding a room in a cooperative house that was in satisfactory condition with a reasonable rent where I would be accepted.  I was taken aback by the interviewers in the places that I was interested who never gave me a chance to become part of their community even though I was confident that I could get along well with others.  Unfortunately, it was still painfully obvious that I had some neurological condition with my appearance and speech impediment.  Since these folks didn’t have any understanding of my background, they felt uncomfortable about taking me in, due to fear of the unknown caused by preconceived idea they had.  This lowered my self-esteem that wasn’t that high to begin with.  While I thought that I was acting normally, I had no notion of what I did that turned strangers off.

 

One morning when I was at the office, I expressed my concerns of finding a suitable place to live, a friendly woman, Ramona, who came in occasionally to do volunteer work happened to be around and overheard me.  Ramona who had seen me only a few times offered me her place to stay.  She had a greater appreciation for my struggles to make it on my own with my challenges since she had two sons with cerebral palsy, one who had died.  That same day, she took me out to lunch at a restaurant and showed me her house.

During the following weekend on March 1, 1981, Bob moved me to her place that was located in Brier, a small community in south Snohomish County nestled between Mountlake Terrace and Lynnwood and north King County.  I was about twenty miles north from downtown Seattle.  Though I had been contented while I stayed with Bob and Jean for the six weeks, I needed to move out so they could have more privacy like most other families.

Even though I didn’t have my own room and slept in the recreation room, I felt that I had a much better deal than I would have if I moved into any of the houses I saw in Seattle.  First of all, it was better for me to be with someone, who had dealt with disability issues, rather than with folks who lack any understanding by not being exposed to such.

Secondly, I wasn’t quite ready to live in the middle of a large city again such as Seattle.  I liked to be farther out where there were more trees and fields and where the houses were farther apart.  Whenever I was home, I went out for long jogs/walks to explore as much of the area as possible.  Sometime I was out for a few hours at a time.  There were tall Douglas firs and other trees everywhere and several horses and goats around.

Thirdly, unlike the other rooms that were available, I wasn’t charged any rent since Ramona understood my situation and wanted to help me out.  One morning, she drove me to the Department of Social and Health Services (DSHS) at the Mountlake Terrace branch to apply for food stamps since I was on my own and wasn’t earning any income.  I received them immediately upon my appointment and bringing in a note that I was staying with Ramona rent-free and a letter from the doctor describing my disability.  Though I appreciated getting the food coupons to cover my food costs, I wanted to be hired somewhere with adequate pay and health care benefits, since I was over the age to be covered under my father’s insurance plan and wasn’t able to afford my own.

 

Arrangements were made by WPAS for me to go to a psychiatrist who was familiar with autism to interview me for an assessment.  Like myself, Dr. Reichler was a Jew from New York City and he recalled observing the special preschool program in the Jacobie Hospital in the early sixties that was about the same time that I was in a class there.  This contributed to the good rapport I had with him.  In his report on me that I read later, he indicated that my posture and bodily movements including gestures were little bit off and excessive use of hands and head.  He also noted about my speech impediment (disfluency with a lack of control of voice modulation) and a lack of self-confidence by the way I carried myself.  I tended to talk too loudly as I wasn’t able to hear myself as well as I should had.  He wrote down autism as diagnosis.

As part of autism, I didn’t always communicate what I was supposed to.  For instance, after I told everyone, including Bob, that I was planning to attend the WANSAC parent’s meeting for March, I failed to inform people of my decision of not going, though I wasn’t sure until the last minute.  I debated whether I should go or not as I had a low-grade gastro-intestinal virus and a long commute in the evening.  I was home for a few days to rest.  I almost got ready to go, and then I decided that I would still be too weak to walk over a mile to Lake Forest Park to catch the only bus that ran through the general area in the evenings and weekends to Seattle.

I felt worse and remorseful when Bob called me after he especially went to the meeting to see me and was disappointed that I had not shown up.  I didn’t blame him for his anger, since he had to drive across the lake and back on the floating Evergreen Bridge all for a no-show.  I realized that it was important for me to make my final decision by the morning of the meeting, stick to it and let people know.

 

Despite differences in our personalities and values–Ramona more conservative and I more liberal–she was very nice to me and treated me like a member of her family and we got along very well.  She took me everywhere with her, including taking me along to visit her best friend who was Italian and lived close by within the neighborhood and to see the home for people with cerebral palsy in the north end of Seattle.

One weekend when Ramona’s husband came home from Bend, Oregon where his job was, I went along with the family, including the son with cerebral palsy to their trailer on their property out in the country in Arlington, Washington.  It was less than an hour’s drive north.  I was thrilled to see the countryside as I went out for a long jog.  This helped release the tensions and concerns that I had about my employment prospects.

I also was invited to go along on a much longer trip to eastern Washington for a few days.  Ramona had some business to take care of at a religious school, the Walla Walla College in the town of Walla Walla.  Since this school was owned by the Seventh Day Adventists, there was good vegetarian food in line with their dietary beliefs and mine too.  Food was still an obsession of mine.  Besides seeing the scenery of driving through the mountains and desert and jogging in the vicinity of the motel we stayed, I loved being provided with meals with unlimited quantities in the cafeteria.

On the way home, we stopped in a migrant town, Sunnyside, with a high Hispanic population, to visit a Mexican friend.  Despite a late start and that stopover, we made it to Seattle for my dinner invitation with Laura, a friend from WPAS to meet Charlie Hart, a member of the autism society, and his family, at their house, who was very active with WANSAC.  Charlie had both a brother and a son with autism.  The brother was in my art class at the Northwest Center.  We told our stories so we could learn from each other that were the main objective of the evening.  This was a fun way to get some autism training.  Laura stayed for a week with Charlie’s family to learn more about them.  I slept over and was served breakfast, since there was no way for me to get home so late in the evening.

 

After staying with Ramona for three weeks, I moved out and stayed with Katie and her family.  Katie, Laura, and I discussed that it would be better to be in the city since there was better public transportation for me to get around more easily for looking for jobs and weekend and evening recreation.

But, the thing I did wrong was that I had Laura transport my belongings without talking to Ramona before hand about it.  When I called her after all of my stuff was out of her place, she was disappointed that I didn’t inform her about my move even though the situation wasn’t set up for permanence.  She was shocked that it was done so fast without any warning.  I felt very remorseful and sorrowful.  I hated the idea of making anyone feel bad due to my wrongdoing and lack of communication.  I learned from this experience that people need at least a week or so to be informed of and to adjust to change that involves them, regardless of how temporary the setup may be.

In Katie’s house, I had my own room in the basement, next to those set aside for the son’s attendants.  He had one for during the week and another for the weekend.  I hardly had any floor space, since there were already two beds in such a small room.  That was okay since I was just there to sleep and to get dressed.  I spent most of my waking hours in the living room which was more comfortable for reading or stretching exercises, though that took away some of the privacy for the family, although I did a watercolor in my room where there was a small table.

The house sat on a hill overlooking Lake Washington in the Mount Baker neighborhood that was relatively racially mixed and near the central area of Seattle.  When I went out jogging, I learned to stay within several blocks from the water going through the lake front parks and the stylish old homes in the area.  Just above the hill, away from the lake, were slum areas.  I felt safe as long as I stayed within the more affluent zone.

 

Since I still had a very hard time of finding any paying job, I applied for the General Public Assistance for the unemployable (GPAU) at the Department of Social and Health Services (DSHS) and the Supplemental Security Income (SSI) at the Social Security Administration (SSA).  In both places, I filled out forms in stacks of paper and brought in a note from the doctor stating my disability along with a note of my housing arrangements.  I received public assistance from the state that included a little bit of money for rent, a small allowance, food stamps, and Medicaid coupons for health care.  But, I was turned down for SSI that apparently had tighter eligibility.  With SSI, I wouldn’t need to reapply every three months as I did for the state program.  I appealed for the federal aid but received no change in the decision.

Add comment June 6, 2008 dithorsos
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Prosopagnosia (Face Blindness)

Prosopagnosia

 

I have difficulty in recognizing faces until I get to know the person or if I meet an acquaintance I have not seen for a long time.  I could see just as many details to a face as anyone else with good eye sight.  I have face blindness in that I am slow in recognizing who is behind the face, especially when the individual is out of context.  I have a much easier time recognizing someone when one is in or in front of the building or house that I associate one with.  It is also easier when one is with the group that I associate one in.  I always had recognized myself in a mirror as far as I could remember.  I also am visually oriented and have excellent sense of special concepts and understanding of physical properties to enable me to understand mirrors when I was very small.  Some people do have prosopanosia worse then me in that they even have difficulty or take them much longer to recognize themselves in the mirror.  People have to be in exact locations or positions in order to be seen who they are to them.  Many more times than not, folks would recognize me first before I recognize them.  In such situations, I ask them their names while I exude “who are you” expression.  Once their identities register, I tend to warm up from my coldness.   I am amazed of acquaintances that have not seen me in many years and was able to spot me in another city.  I could recognize people who are on buses with me occasionally.  I consider myself much better at remembering names then faces.  Often when folks give me their names and where we met or their associations, I am able to recall who they are.  I am not bothered by face blindness and learned to live with this and feel that this is nothing to be ashamed about.  My life is not adversely impacted by this and accept this as part of my being.

Add comment June 6, 2008 dithorsos
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