I enjoy writing about life and it's bizarre twists and turns. Strive to help others who deal with challenges and battles that many simply don't understand. Sharing my story to help educate others on the spectrum and off.
Experiences in life, both good and bad, help shape us into who we are, or don't want to be, tomorrow. My early years, when someone displayed a resistance to being a cookie cutter person, they were labeled retarded, and often relocated. I remember hearing my half brother, Tim, being asked this when I was home on a visit and they were picking baseball teams. Was I the retarded one? What did this mean? Did he want to fight? I was about 9-years-old.
Maybe that was the reason I was living in a catholic home for troubled kids. A place in Milwaukee. The year 1969. Many kids were allowed to go home for weekend visits but mine failed. I didn't think I was stupid because my thoughts seemed smart and logical. But why the speech class?
Why so many problems when placed in social situations? What was behind the disturbance and the reluctance of staff wanting to take me anywhere? And what was in the paper cups with M&M's?
More bizarre was the room, at the end of a long hallway named The Blue Room. It was where they'd put you during a meltdown. Nothing in it but blue padded walls. A dirty window but it had thick mesh screening. Wasn't really a window, more like a home spiders lived, lots of webs. A kid would be locked behind this room for hours upon hours. Screams, yelling you'd be good, fell on silent ears. I'll never forget this.
You'd think this story wouldn't have a good outcome. Trust me, it didn't for the next 17 years. It wasn't until I was much older when I realized that if I wanted to be successful at something I needed to do it myself. Working with others, working in a print shop, was alright but there was often conflict with people. I was too quick to read things into their expressions. Things didn't work out.
I was involved with a program call DVR at the time. Believe it or not they helped me open a tattoo studio. I loved to draw, loved color, and it was a crafted picked up between running away from places as a kid. Dealing with customers was challenging, but very rewarding. When I retired we let the business go to the first apprentice taught. It only seemed right to pass the torch like this.
A lot I owe to the woman I slowly let into my life, and eventually married, Bobbi. She simply refused to give up on me. She had one rule...don't screw around. So I took that to mean I could do everything but that. Wrong. I think I also tried to test her on how much she cared. Her son, Sean, and I are very close. My daughter and Bobbi are emotionally connected. The grandkids Sean and his wife Jen brought into this world only added to gifts proven later that mattered among the most.
The one thing I had a hard time, and still do, is communicating with others face to face, or over the phone. Using letters I could best do so. Little written symbols, that we've learned represent sound, is my mode of communication the best.
I'm older now, so do well with others (most of the time) where they are unaware I'd rather be alone. I handle it well. My scan of surrounding nobody notices.
I also communicate with people using the camera as the medium. Sometimes I write something positive on it, and send it to one of the kids or wife. Sometimes using Twitter, where I network with over 100,007 people.
Letters are a great way to communicate. With family, close friends, with whoever. I've exchange letters with the most powerful man on earth (an ex-president). Many others I won't bore people with.
I always wanted to be a journalist, but lacked the social skills for college. Then I discovered citizen journalism. My perspective given on stories was trying to stay fair and honest. Knowing when to turn the camera and video off was as important as when to have it on. I covered a lot of big things. Protests, tornadoes, but concentrated mostly on positive stories. There weren't enough of them. Large media outlets like CNN, BBC, even the Weather Channel used my work in print and on television.
Always wanted to work with kids that were struggling to fit in. So after retiring I did. Others labeled them 'high-risked'. They had no label from me (soup cans should be the only labeled thing). This was extremely rewarding. It was through a program called Restorative Justice. It didn't believe in throwing people in jail and throwing away the key. It attempted to make matters agreeable to all involved parties.
So it's possible to take whatever gifts we have today, and know you can shape them into your tomorrows. No matter what they are. It won't be easy, but what's worth keeping ever is?
I think all of us help the other in some way. Use your voice towards the things your passionate about and for people who have none. The bigger picture keep in mind when frustrated. Keep doing what your doing, even when you don't know what it is your doing. Does that even make sense...I think so.
What life has taught me the most is to not let a few bad moments turn into bad days. Your not going to do things perfectly every time. Be okay with this. Give yourself credit for trying.
Experiences in life, both good and bad, help shape us into who we are, or don't want to be, tomorrow. My early years, when someone displayed a resistance to being a cookie cutter person, they were labeled retarded, and often relocated. I remember hearing my half brother, Tim, being asked this when I was home on a visit and they were picking baseball teams. Was I the retarded one? What did this mean? Did he want to fight? I was about 9-years-old.
Maybe that was the reason I was living in a catholic home for troubled kids. A place in Milwaukee. The year 1969. Many kids were allowed to go home for weekend visits but mine failed. I didn't think I was stupid because my thoughts seemed smart and logical. But why the speech class?
Why so many problems when placed in social situations? What was behind the disturbance and the reluctance of staff wanting to take me anywhere? And what was in the paper cups with M&M's?
More bizarre was the room, at the end of a long hallway named The Blue Room. It was where they'd put you during a meltdown. Nothing in it but blue padded walls. A dirty window but it had thick mesh screening. Wasn't really a window, more like a home spiders lived, lots of webs. A kid would be locked behind this room for hours upon hours. Screams, yelling you'd be good, fell on silent ears. I'll never forget this.
You'd think this story wouldn't have a good outcome. Trust me, it didn't for the next 17 years. It wasn't until I was much older when I realized that if I wanted to be successful at something I needed to do it myself. Working with others, working in a print shop, was alright but there was often conflict with people. I was too quick to read things into their expressions. Things didn't work out.
I was involved with a program call DVR at the time. Believe it or not they helped me open a tattoo studio. I loved to draw, loved color, and it was a crafted picked up between running away from places as a kid. Dealing with customers was challenging, but very rewarding. When I retired we let the business go to the first apprentice taught. It only seemed right to pass the torch like this.
A lot I owe to the woman I slowly let into my life, and eventually married, Bobbi. She simply refused to give up on me. She had one rule...don't screw around. So I took that to mean I could do everything but that. Wrong. I think I also tried to test her on how much she cared. Her son, Sean, and I are very close. My daughter and Bobbi are emotionally connected. The grandkids Sean and his wife Jen brought into this world only added to gifts proven later that mattered among the most.
The one thing I had a hard time, and still do, is communicating with others face to face, or over the phone. Using letters I could best do so. Little written symbols, that we've learned represent sound, is my mode of communication the best.
I'm older now, so do well with others (most of the time) where they are unaware I'd rather be alone. I handle it well. My scan of surrounding nobody notices.
I also communicate with people using the camera as the medium. Sometimes I write something positive on it, and send it to one of the kids or wife. Sometimes using Twitter, where I network with over 100,007 people.
Letters are a great way to communicate. With family, close friends, with whoever. I've exchange letters with the most powerful man on earth (an ex-president). Many others I won't bore people with.
I always wanted to be a journalist, but lacked the social skills for college. Then I discovered citizen journalism. My perspective given on stories was trying to stay fair and honest. Knowing when to turn the camera and video off was as important as when to have it on. I covered a lot of big things. Protests, tornadoes, but concentrated mostly on positive stories. There weren't enough of them. Large media outlets like CNN, BBC, even the Weather Channel used my work in print and on television.
Always wanted to work with kids that were struggling to fit in. So after retiring I did. Others labeled them 'high-risked'. They had no label from me (soup cans should be the only labeled thing). This was extremely rewarding. It was through a program called Restorative Justice. It didn't believe in throwing people in jail and throwing away the key. It attempted to make matters agreeable to all involved parties.
So it's possible to take whatever gifts we have today, and know you can shape them into your tomorrows. No matter what they are. It won't be easy, but what's worth keeping ever is?
I think all of us help the other in some way. Use your voice towards the things your passionate about and for people who have none. The bigger picture keep in mind when frustrated. Keep doing what your doing, even when you don't know what it is your doing. Does that even make sense...I think so.
What life has taught me the most is to not let a few bad moments turn into bad days. Your not going to do things perfectly every time. Be okay with this. Give yourself credit for trying.
