autism-and-autotune
A musical mind with recent revelations
Apologies if this isn't allowed. What's...unique about the situation is that despite it being a bad bad day, I still had all my spoons and executive function...but as of right now I'm over it an incapable.
So I work the retail, etc. etc. Particularly yesterday it was not good because there was no one to collect the carts, half of which were being repaired, so the only ones available kept vanishing as soon as they'd be replaced. It's an accepted bit of knowledge at work that carts aren't necessarily my most enjoyed activity--some days I'm fine with it, other days I hate being asked as soon as I get in there (maybe a bit of PDA). Eventually though I accept my position and collect, bringing them to one designated spot til I was told otherwise.
But I'd hit my breaking point early on. I couldn't stand my sweaty body of my sore feet. I internalized my overload, not bringing it out on folks--they don't deserve it after all--and after an hour and a half or so I'd gone in to tell one of my shift-leaders that I'm done, I've hit my limit. "We need you out there. There's no one else coming in til later." I shook my head and shrugged; how late is later? I wondered, but went at it.
I should mention that one thing I struggle with due to the autism is doing the same task over and over again, especially if it's strenuous and stressful. Not that I don't like repetition but I compare it to Red Dead: Undead Nightmare where you're getting swarmed with zombies after repeatedly shooting one multiple times, and it falls down, and you walk away content...only to be nabbed by it in two seconds again and for the third time.
As I worked, and walked and collected and pondered, the same Bach chorale and prelude was spinning in my head, giving me a bit of consolation despite the the situation. I thought of a thousand other places I'd rather be; snuggled close at home, or practicing the above-mentioned chorale prelude at the organ, or maybe by the sea. But where I am is here, and I'll do my best. Is it heroic to keep striving when you're already done? Or is it just doing what's necessary because there might be no other way?
So while I'm out there still doing my job, I didn't feel like a victim or have a woe is me attitude. It just sucked. But I shrugged it off and did the work. But I did think, I work for a many-million dollar if not billion dollar company. Can't they hire folks just for this position, regardless if we're swamped or not, or would they consider it a 'waste of funds' on some days? By the time I was out there for three hours, one of the service leaders was out there helping me. "Should I go on my break?" I asked. Normally we're told when to take our breaks. "Let's get this foyer in shape," she said, and I was just exasperated and irritated beyond belief. We're fighting a losing and uphill battle. I did notice, though, that one of the other fellows whose primary job to collect carts was out there, vest and cart-grabby-thingy in hand. "So-and-so's out there." I forget how she responded, but I got irritated. "I haven't even had a break yet!" I said, actually sort of angry and just overwhelmed. Autism aside, how the hell is anyone neurotypical supposed to just grin and bear it?
"All right, you can go on your break, but please head right back out there right after wards." At that point, I'd have maybe a half hour or forty minutes left of my shift. I was angry and stormed off and did as I was told. Chugged a vat of water, put my vest back on, and tried to keep my frustration internalized. At that point--actually much earlier--I stopped being able to carry in more carts; an 'acceptable' amount being six or seven with the contraption. Maybe three or four? The time for the end of my shift arrived, and one of the service leaders said he'd wanted to talk to me in the office before I left.
"What's going on today?" he asked, concern in his voice. He'd witnessed me at my most uncooperative and irritable before, so I found his non-judgmental stance to be trusting. "How much has my manager told you about my autism?" Not much, he admitted, and only that I have it but not specific detriments. I told him about sensory overload--particularly with the heat and physical exhaustion. "When I've reached my limit, I've reached my limit," I said, and when he'd asked I told him that at least on two or three times I'd already told this to other service leaders. "Yes, it affects my mood when I've just had enough," because I picked up on that this was most likely the problem of today. What, is no one allowed to have a rough day? It's not like I was calling folks names or pushing them or being a bully; I was just angry and overworked and frustrated.
He said that while he understands better, the other service leaders don't. "It's your medical history, so you don't need to disclose it to others, but maybe some people might just think you're being a mean jerk. It might help if you tell them, 'Hey, I have autism, so if I seem irritable it's because I've hit my limit.' Chances are they'll be more understanding, even though I don't know how it works." I mean, he was right; my actual manager is very very understanding when I express my limit. I did apologize to one of the service leaders before I left, and said I was sorry for losing my temper. I could explain later.
"It was kind of a rough day overall for everyone," he said. "I had four call-outs and the rest of the staff is all sixty-plus year old women, and you're the only option. I realize it's a rare event, to spend your whole shift out there, but some days..." he shrugged, and logically I could understand that yes, there are going to be 'those days' which are difficult and unexpected. And sometimes yes, I am the only one who can physically do the work.
"If you'd need any kind of accommodations which expresses your limitation, we'd need a doctor's note." I told him I don't have one and can't afford one. He was perplexed. "Not even insurance? You don't qualify for state medical insurance?" I said no. It's true; according to the state I make 'too much money' despite my monthly income equaling to less than $2,000.00. He said that it didn't sound fair and there must be something our company could do. He said that while he might not be of much help, he'd look into it. "What do you do for medication or when you're sick?" he inquired. I said that I don't take medication, and never really get sick. "But for anything else, if anything else comes up...I'm out of luck."
I thanked him for helping and listening. It's...nice that some folks will be open and understanding when I say that I have autism. No, he didn't know how sensory overload works or what shutdown was, but before leaving he asked a bit and I said that too much overload causes shutdown. "I can't work at that point. It's not something I can go through, and it's not something others need to witness." I forget what else was said, but as I left the office I was exhausted and stuttering and just...done. Still full of spoons though, but just...done.
So I went home, showered, nursed my sore feet and aching legs and blistered hands and had a lovely and filling supper with my loving and caring partner. I can't quit my job, and I can't afford to be fired. I can't work anywhere else because I never hear back from any places where I send out applications. I make too much money to qualify for state health insurance but I struggle to pay all my bills at the end of each month. I am, as we said in geology class in university, stuck between a rock and a hard place. It's all so difficult but I'm not taking anything for granted; a lot of people would kill to be in my situation.
So today, I'm not going in. I don't have the executive function and my feet still hurt; no way in hell am I standing all morning. I slept in anyways and there's not enough time to get ready. Is it self-care and needed and deserved, or is it petty? Do I only ask this because I wasn't allowed the same treatment when I was a child, and the behaviour has been ingrained into my psyche? Am I being a melodramatic little flea? I'm not doing it to 'get back' at my position; I just know that if I went in I'd be a nightmare.
Thanks for sticking through and reading all this--golly, I didn't expect to type a damn novel. *sighs*. It's just...rough. I'm not sad, I'm not in misery, I'm just...I can't articulate it. I'm tired but there's more to it than that. I just don't know what to do.
So I work the retail, etc. etc. Particularly yesterday it was not good because there was no one to collect the carts, half of which were being repaired, so the only ones available kept vanishing as soon as they'd be replaced. It's an accepted bit of knowledge at work that carts aren't necessarily my most enjoyed activity--some days I'm fine with it, other days I hate being asked as soon as I get in there (maybe a bit of PDA). Eventually though I accept my position and collect, bringing them to one designated spot til I was told otherwise.
But I'd hit my breaking point early on. I couldn't stand my sweaty body of my sore feet. I internalized my overload, not bringing it out on folks--they don't deserve it after all--and after an hour and a half or so I'd gone in to tell one of my shift-leaders that I'm done, I've hit my limit. "We need you out there. There's no one else coming in til later." I shook my head and shrugged; how late is later? I wondered, but went at it.
I should mention that one thing I struggle with due to the autism is doing the same task over and over again, especially if it's strenuous and stressful. Not that I don't like repetition but I compare it to Red Dead: Undead Nightmare where you're getting swarmed with zombies after repeatedly shooting one multiple times, and it falls down, and you walk away content...only to be nabbed by it in two seconds again and for the third time.
As I worked, and walked and collected and pondered, the same Bach chorale and prelude was spinning in my head, giving me a bit of consolation despite the the situation. I thought of a thousand other places I'd rather be; snuggled close at home, or practicing the above-mentioned chorale prelude at the organ, or maybe by the sea. But where I am is here, and I'll do my best. Is it heroic to keep striving when you're already done? Or is it just doing what's necessary because there might be no other way?
So while I'm out there still doing my job, I didn't feel like a victim or have a woe is me attitude. It just sucked. But I shrugged it off and did the work. But I did think, I work for a many-million dollar if not billion dollar company. Can't they hire folks just for this position, regardless if we're swamped or not, or would they consider it a 'waste of funds' on some days? By the time I was out there for three hours, one of the service leaders was out there helping me. "Should I go on my break?" I asked. Normally we're told when to take our breaks. "Let's get this foyer in shape," she said, and I was just exasperated and irritated beyond belief. We're fighting a losing and uphill battle. I did notice, though, that one of the other fellows whose primary job to collect carts was out there, vest and cart-grabby-thingy in hand. "So-and-so's out there." I forget how she responded, but I got irritated. "I haven't even had a break yet!" I said, actually sort of angry and just overwhelmed. Autism aside, how the hell is anyone neurotypical supposed to just grin and bear it?
"All right, you can go on your break, but please head right back out there right after wards." At that point, I'd have maybe a half hour or forty minutes left of my shift. I was angry and stormed off and did as I was told. Chugged a vat of water, put my vest back on, and tried to keep my frustration internalized. At that point--actually much earlier--I stopped being able to carry in more carts; an 'acceptable' amount being six or seven with the contraption. Maybe three or four? The time for the end of my shift arrived, and one of the service leaders said he'd wanted to talk to me in the office before I left.
"What's going on today?" he asked, concern in his voice. He'd witnessed me at my most uncooperative and irritable before, so I found his non-judgmental stance to be trusting. "How much has my manager told you about my autism?" Not much, he admitted, and only that I have it but not specific detriments. I told him about sensory overload--particularly with the heat and physical exhaustion. "When I've reached my limit, I've reached my limit," I said, and when he'd asked I told him that at least on two or three times I'd already told this to other service leaders. "Yes, it affects my mood when I've just had enough," because I picked up on that this was most likely the problem of today. What, is no one allowed to have a rough day? It's not like I was calling folks names or pushing them or being a bully; I was just angry and overworked and frustrated.
He said that while he understands better, the other service leaders don't. "It's your medical history, so you don't need to disclose it to others, but maybe some people might just think you're being a mean jerk. It might help if you tell them, 'Hey, I have autism, so if I seem irritable it's because I've hit my limit.' Chances are they'll be more understanding, even though I don't know how it works." I mean, he was right; my actual manager is very very understanding when I express my limit. I did apologize to one of the service leaders before I left, and said I was sorry for losing my temper. I could explain later.
"It was kind of a rough day overall for everyone," he said. "I had four call-outs and the rest of the staff is all sixty-plus year old women, and you're the only option. I realize it's a rare event, to spend your whole shift out there, but some days..." he shrugged, and logically I could understand that yes, there are going to be 'those days' which are difficult and unexpected. And sometimes yes, I am the only one who can physically do the work.
"If you'd need any kind of accommodations which expresses your limitation, we'd need a doctor's note." I told him I don't have one and can't afford one. He was perplexed. "Not even insurance? You don't qualify for state medical insurance?" I said no. It's true; according to the state I make 'too much money' despite my monthly income equaling to less than $2,000.00. He said that it didn't sound fair and there must be something our company could do. He said that while he might not be of much help, he'd look into it. "What do you do for medication or when you're sick?" he inquired. I said that I don't take medication, and never really get sick. "But for anything else, if anything else comes up...I'm out of luck."
I thanked him for helping and listening. It's...nice that some folks will be open and understanding when I say that I have autism. No, he didn't know how sensory overload works or what shutdown was, but before leaving he asked a bit and I said that too much overload causes shutdown. "I can't work at that point. It's not something I can go through, and it's not something others need to witness." I forget what else was said, but as I left the office I was exhausted and stuttering and just...done. Still full of spoons though, but just...done.
So I went home, showered, nursed my sore feet and aching legs and blistered hands and had a lovely and filling supper with my loving and caring partner. I can't quit my job, and I can't afford to be fired. I can't work anywhere else because I never hear back from any places where I send out applications. I make too much money to qualify for state health insurance but I struggle to pay all my bills at the end of each month. I am, as we said in geology class in university, stuck between a rock and a hard place. It's all so difficult but I'm not taking anything for granted; a lot of people would kill to be in my situation.
So today, I'm not going in. I don't have the executive function and my feet still hurt; no way in hell am I standing all morning. I slept in anyways and there's not enough time to get ready. Is it self-care and needed and deserved, or is it petty? Do I only ask this because I wasn't allowed the same treatment when I was a child, and the behaviour has been ingrained into my psyche? Am I being a melodramatic little flea? I'm not doing it to 'get back' at my position; I just know that if I went in I'd be a nightmare.
Thanks for sticking through and reading all this--golly, I didn't expect to type a damn novel. *sighs*. It's just...rough. I'm not sad, I'm not in misery, I'm just...I can't articulate it. I'm tired but there's more to it than that. I just don't know what to do.
It was a good and soothing day. Still haven't recovered my spoons, but it's a start 
