Strange happenings

…on Friday the 13th

(A photograph I just took through the caterpillar holes in a leaf on the magnolia tree in our yard…I like strange portals as a way to see the world anew)

It’s Saturday, August 14th.

Yesterday I did not write something.

I’m not superstitious but I tend not to mess with Friday the 13th. Once I closed my shop as a joke, on a Friday the 13th and ended up accidentally poking myself with a knife I was cleaning and though it was mildly traumatic, I was fine, I’m fine.

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But yesterday WAS WEIRD. And I couldn’t write about it until it was over.

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I had made plans with a former student who lives about an hour and a half away, because I had a blood panel appointment in the city. I thought it would be funny to have my blood drawn on Friday the 13th, but on purpose this time.

I received a text with a request for a change in our plans. Which I agreed to. But by the time I’d driven an hour and a half I actually wanted to eat lunch, so I changed our plans back.

I picked up my former student (I taught him almost twenty years ago. And it’s wild to think that much time has passed!) and we went to this little village where they have shops and restaurants.

We parked my rental car and went inside for lunch. We had a lovely conversation. Then as we left I realized I had to quickly get to my blood draw appointment which was 42 minutes away and I was supposed to arrive ten minutes early.

I had to leave exactly then.

We said our goodbyes, I headed to my car, where I normally parked it, and I pressed the unlock button and got in.

Once inside the car I noticed that the amount of change I had left in the little change cubby was different. And there was a parking ticket under it.

I surmised that the parking attendant had paid for my time there (I’d forgotten) and taken the monies they needed. I must have left my car unlocked. And that was a weird thing for someone to do!

I contemplated it. Then I noticed the person had also left two napkins in the cup holder. Weirder still. I picked up the napkins.

But as it was a rental I had no other things in the car. Except the pink crane that little girl had given me at the shop the other day.

It was gone too.

Now I was a little freaked out. I went to start the car.

It wouldn’t start.

Then it dawned on me.

THIS WASN’T MY RENTAL CAR.

So I tried to casually get out.

I shut the door carefully.

I looked around and found that I’d parked somewhere completely different.

I went to my rental, unlocked the door, and upon entering I found everything as I’d left it. But I still had the napkins in my hand.

So I put them in my cupholder.

…I texted my partner a quick run down of the strange incident.

Then I drove to my appointment and arrived EXACTLY on time. Which meant that I walked in to register, had my blood drawn immediately and there was no time to think about the other car, or the fact that something odd had happened.

I wanted someone to bear witness to the strangeness. But I didn’t feel like I could write about it. The day wasn’t over.

So I asked the cashier at the drug store if I could share a quick weird story with her.

She was sympathetic and told me she’d always worried about doing that same thing.

Then on my way out she joked “I hope you get into the right car.”

But I had marked the car, and parked it in a noticeable place and I laughed knowing I would find it, and that from now on I would be hyper-vigilant about getting into the right car.

I think this is why my car is covered in stickers. Why it has a vanity license plate and a sparkly license plate holder. Because I need outward signifiers to recognize things. People too. I rely on these things to be able to manage in the world. I return to the same places over and over, I park in the same spots. I take pictures of where I’ve parked. I have accommodated my inability to recognize things. I always put my keys in the same places. I put things on my calendar immediately if I book them, or I will forget.

Yesterday I thought I’d forgotten my blood paperwork on the fridge because I remembered not taking it that morning because the change in plans threw off my routine. My partner could not find it when I texted.

But my past self? They planned for that and tucked it into the obvious place with my health card when I booked the appointment so I wouldn’t forget it! SO I HAD IT ALREADY.

I am so grateful for the organized part of myself that has learned ways to manage the disorganized part of myself.

I know that we all contain multitudes.

I feel as if there are more aspects that one existing within me, and that they have created a cohesive system so that I don’t fall apart. And it’s beautiful.

I’m so grateful to the parts of me that make it easier for me to manage this overwhelming and often unsettling world.

I’m grateful for the soft, messy parts of myself that allow me to fall apart when things are hard.

I’m grateful to the parts of me that magically seem to know how to interact with people in need of magic.

Sometimes I do feel like an alien (my friend just called me this lovingly last week, and when I was a child it is what my bullies called me for years), a stranger-in-a-strange-land, a robot that has learned protocols to get by.

And sometimes I feel human. Like when I’m hanging out with other neurodivergent folks, or encounter one in the wild.

There is a person at the theatre I go to, they call me bro-dude, and I love it, because they see my gender-fluidity and my queerness and they honour it.

They are also autistic and when we encounter each other in this space it is as if we can both let our guard down. Our masks fall off. Our hands move with excitement as we compliment each other on our adornments.

Yesterday I tried to go to Blink Twice. But the trigger warning at the beginning made me realize it wasn’t for me. So I left before anything bad happened. I explained this to the person who was at the gateway to the movies. They said “bro-dude, I feel you. You can ask for your money back. Please go to the counter. They’ll help you.”

I wanted to, I did. I said I would. But the large man manning the counter, he was not friendly, and that was ok for buying popcorn, but not ok for me tying to tell someone that I couldn’t watch a movie because trauma.

So I went to an art store instead. I bought paint. I went through the self check out. I grounded myself amongst the silly Halloween section.

And then I went to pick up my kiddo. And his Dad, his brother and I all went for dinner together. And that was lovely.

We drove home.

And I was exhausted by the overwhelm of the day, so my kiddo played with his friends online, and my partner sat with me in the dark and we watched Bunheads (my current favourite show) and I went to bed early because I wanted to go for brunch with my youngest. Because I only see him on weekends now.

So we had a delightful brunch at a restaurant where they treat us like family.

And then I walked my pup. I listened to the crowd being hilarious. I said hello to my spiders outside. And then I came in to write this.

Tomorrow on

Emily Charlotte Powell

’s wondrous corner of the internet

While I Was Drawing

she will be featuring an essay I wrote about making gentle monsters in community.

I am so very excited. I will share it here.

But right now im going to a class by

Tiffany Landry

from

The Queer Autistic Newsletter

about sensory safety and sensory objects because she has such a welcoming presence.

…and then my kiddo and I will go skip rocks at the pond.

I appreciate you.

heart,

Wake

(A gorgeous piece of art my friend made just for me)