Bad Things Happen When I’m On Autopilot
I function on autopilot a lot. I don’t really think about what I’m doing. I have a bad habit of always thinking about the next thing I’m going to do. I don’t “live in the moment” very well at all.
My mom and I went to David’s Bridal today to shop for my dress for my sister’s wedding. It’s dark blue and has short sleeves. It’s sparkly on top, with a ribbon around the middle, and the bottom is made of taffeta. Here’s a not-very-good picture, but at least you can get an idea.
Anyway, after we got the dress and appropriate undergarments (which are ridiculous, I might add), we went to go look for shoes only…. the car wouldn’t start. We tried again. We tried while cross our fingers, crossing our eyes, and sticking our tongues out (not really). It didn’t work. My mom called my stepdad, Bob, and he came to jump the car. So we went back inside and waited for a while, until he came. It wasn’t a big deal, but it was the second time in three days that the car pooped out on us, so I think my mom was a little frustrated.
We got home, and my mom told me to go get the mail and put my sister’s wedding response card thing in the mail right now, before I forget. I went through the back door, up the basement stairs, out the front door, got the mail, and started to look at the mail I got from the Social Security office about cash assistance. I was fully absorbed in that, when the doorbell rang. My mom was rather annoyed that I’d locked her out downstairs. I apologized, and I thought she came in behind me in the front. I wasn’t really paying attention, because I was distracted by the fact that I’d gotten mail. The next thing I knew, I had a crash and a scream. “Lydia, come open this #*$&W% door RIGHT NOW!”
I ran downstairs. I was so confused; wasn’t my mom already in the house? Apparently not. Apparently, what my mom had meant by “you locked me out downstairs…” was “come back downstairs and open up the back door.”
Oops.
She got so mad she broke a window in the door so that she could yell up the stairs to me.
I think she’s over it; she just lost her temper. I… am keeping Elsie close by because I’m still so nervous. I’m afraid that my stepdad will yell at me for the broken window, because he yells at me for everything. I’m sure I’ll hear about this.
I can’t help but to think if I didn’t have autism, I wouldn’t do stupid things like that. I would be more present in the moment and less in my own world all the time. When I think hard about it, I can truly focus on what I’m doing for a little while, but not for very long. I could never do it all the time.
Guess I’d better get used to doing stupid things, eh? You’d think I’d be used to it by now.
Sigh. Now where’s that cat?
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If she didn’t ask you to come and open the door she can hardly expect you to do it, You’re not the one behaving stupidly!