I'm hard pressed to find anything in my Autistic life to be classified as simple or easy.
I attended my son's high school choir concert last week, and it served to remind me why leaving the house was a delicate, well-thought out dance of problem solving, one after another.
The first issue was dress. What to wear in terms of social norm and comfort. I drew on my two previous concert experiences enough to know to dress casual and cool. The performance is in an auditorium and it leaned towards being too warm last time.
Next came parking at the school. Last time, there was a congested row of cars waiting to leave, so I settled on a spot far from the door and nearest the street.
Seating. This proved to be most problematic as I remember that sitting in the first half of seats seemed to intensify the sound to the point that my ears hurt, so I settled on sitting in the first row of the back half of seats.
I got all comfy, spread my coat in the seat next to me to prevent anyone getting right next to me. I looked over the program and saw that my son's group was third in line to sing, out of the seven different groups. No problem.
Then a small group of people decided to sit directly behind me. It is almost as if I could feel their knees practically bumping my head. They emanated strange, powerful smells like coconuts mixed with flowers and aftershave. It quickly became evident that they liked talking to one another, and not in soft whispers.
This was not going to work for me. I waited the prescribed few minutes, so they wouldn't think I moved my seat on their account, gathered my things and headed for the nearest restroom. Bathrooms are great places to escape to and think. I had to figure out where next to try sitting.
I opted for the back again but this time I picked a handicapped chair near the exit. This way it would be stealthier and quicker for me to leave or move again if needed.
I settled in.
The first couple of groups didn't hurt my ears as they sang. The clapping was abrasive but shirt lived enough not to severely bother. A few of their songs were sung in foreign languages and I quickly became irritated and aggitated.
Why??? Why would they sing songs with lyrics I could not understand? I had no idea what they were singing about so their voices just become nonsensical droning that made no sense. My Aspie logic was lost of this. I became irritated at feeling so confused. I hated it. I really did.
Thankfully, my kid's group appeared and sang all their songs in English. I felt like such a proud Momma as I could readily pick out my son's beautiful, bass voice from the mix. It was awesome seeing him on stage. Once his group left and the next one came on stage, I left the building.
I had figured out that I was required and pleased to hear my son sing, but I was under no obligation to continue to feel uncomfortable listening to any more drivel. Plus, I would avoid the formal choir group whose voices so bothered us last time.
I went for a walk.
Because I was in an unfamiliar area and prone to getting lost, I picked one street and walked straight down and straight back. No turning corners or crossing streets. I checked my time before I left and gauged how far I could reasonably walk so that I would return guesstimationally before the whole concert ended.
Ah, I planned it so well. As I reentered the building, the auditorium doors just swung open and throngs of people filled out. I'm grateful my kid is over 5'8" because I could readily locate him.
Mission accomplished!!
I did it! I was so proud of him and so proud of myself for navigating through the complexity of going to a relatively simple event. I unwound with a drink and some mindless television. I was quite exhausted.
Nothing is ever easy. But most things are doable.
Me, hiding out in the restroom.
I attended my son's high school choir concert last week, and it served to remind me why leaving the house was a delicate, well-thought out dance of problem solving, one after another.
The first issue was dress. What to wear in terms of social norm and comfort. I drew on my two previous concert experiences enough to know to dress casual and cool. The performance is in an auditorium and it leaned towards being too warm last time.
Next came parking at the school. Last time, there was a congested row of cars waiting to leave, so I settled on a spot far from the door and nearest the street.
Seating. This proved to be most problematic as I remember that sitting in the first half of seats seemed to intensify the sound to the point that my ears hurt, so I settled on sitting in the first row of the back half of seats.
I got all comfy, spread my coat in the seat next to me to prevent anyone getting right next to me. I looked over the program and saw that my son's group was third in line to sing, out of the seven different groups. No problem.
Then a small group of people decided to sit directly behind me. It is almost as if I could feel their knees practically bumping my head. They emanated strange, powerful smells like coconuts mixed with flowers and aftershave. It quickly became evident that they liked talking to one another, and not in soft whispers.
This was not going to work for me. I waited the prescribed few minutes, so they wouldn't think I moved my seat on their account, gathered my things and headed for the nearest restroom. Bathrooms are great places to escape to and think. I had to figure out where next to try sitting.
I opted for the back again but this time I picked a handicapped chair near the exit. This way it would be stealthier and quicker for me to leave or move again if needed.
I settled in.
The first couple of groups didn't hurt my ears as they sang. The clapping was abrasive but shirt lived enough not to severely bother. A few of their songs were sung in foreign languages and I quickly became irritated and aggitated.
Why??? Why would they sing songs with lyrics I could not understand? I had no idea what they were singing about so their voices just become nonsensical droning that made no sense. My Aspie logic was lost of this. I became irritated at feeling so confused. I hated it. I really did.
Thankfully, my kid's group appeared and sang all their songs in English. I felt like such a proud Momma as I could readily pick out my son's beautiful, bass voice from the mix. It was awesome seeing him on stage. Once his group left and the next one came on stage, I left the building.
I had figured out that I was required and pleased to hear my son sing, but I was under no obligation to continue to feel uncomfortable listening to any more drivel. Plus, I would avoid the formal choir group whose voices so bothered us last time.
I went for a walk.
Because I was in an unfamiliar area and prone to getting lost, I picked one street and walked straight down and straight back. No turning corners or crossing streets. I checked my time before I left and gauged how far I could reasonably walk so that I would return guesstimationally before the whole concert ended.
Ah, I planned it so well. As I reentered the building, the auditorium doors just swung open and throngs of people filled out. I'm grateful my kid is over 5'8" because I could readily locate him.
Mission accomplished!!
I did it! I was so proud of him and so proud of myself for navigating through the complexity of going to a relatively simple event. I unwound with a drink and some mindless television. I was quite exhausted.
Nothing is ever easy. But most things are doable.
Me, hiding out in the restroom.
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