Remarkable me.

This may start off as a tangent, but I’m recognizing the significance and how it relates to details later in the experience. My cousin’s husband had died, and it may read improper, but I’ll add the word thankfully before the word died. I do appreciate the time he unsuccessfully helped me replace a transmission in my truck, because then I ended up fixing the problem myself.

( Stops typing to ponder if my guides sabotaged the operation during the first attempt, so I would gain confidence, learning how to do it myself. It’s what they do well. )

The man never had a job, was narcissistic and controlling, and taught his children that going to school was not important. Actually, I agree with the last part of that to an extent, but that would need to be supplemented with home schooling – which he would not provide. So we moved her out to a better living environment, and it opened a door of opportunity for someone without children to be a dad to my cousin’s four children. It had been several years since seeing them, it was nice. I hooked all of them up with bicycles and imagined the five of them being that happy kind of family, riding on the sidewalks around town smiling.

Then I started trying to talk to her about having more healthy foods coming in. So one day I went to the store and got things that I eat for them to try, including my favorite brand of Stevia for Cuz’s coffee. Of course I grabbed a couple of the same flavors of decaffeinated tea You would find on my stove top, for her to consider drinking instead of coffee all of the time. I did not get any cigarettes, which were part of her lifestyle, and mine off and on for many years.

Her oldest daughter had never had a can of tuna in olive oil, but she tried it and really liked it which made me feel happy. I wanted to bond with each of the kids on some level. Cuz had mentioned how she had done yoga with her before, something I am into, so even this low level of shared likes was enough for me at this point. We hadn’t discussed the yoga yet, but imagined being a good dad figure and encouraging her to make good choices the way someone I met in the Yoga world has suggested to me, even if indirectly.

The oldest is a very cool and sweet young autistic man about to graduate high school. He eats cookies, and drinks chocolate Ovaltine and McDonald’s shakes. That’s it, and it bothered me a lot, or more. As You can see in the image, not much protein without the milk. (Yes, I brought them vanilla almond milk, like I used to drink when I first switched from cow’s. I ended up donating my blender to them and going to a nutrition store and getting a couple canisters of protein powder, because Buy 1 get 1 for 50%. This made me feel better that he was going to get a higher amount of protes every day. He was a person now, not a child like when I last saw him, and I don’t think his condition was labeled or mentioned. My father died when I was eight and I tried talking to him about the passing of his, but disappointingly without his response it wasn’t a conversation. I have been one of the people who think that the music and games kids are playing could have a great influence on behavior, and planting seeds for future violent stories to be focused on the television news and in the newspaper. When he gets a chance, he plays Grand Theft Auto to his ability, which is just driving a car around and running over people, or just watches it play by itself like a violent movie or TV show. His father is the one who had the game, and now it is his. I wish he didn’t have it, but he does. The worst part of this reunion was when I went to bond and hug him; it was met with by a person who doesn’t seem to feel or show emotion. He didn’t push me away or block me from giving a bro hug, but the feelings I had weren’t being reciprocated, and it created a feeling of emptiness. I understood the situation, but it was still unfulfilling.

The youngest is a boy in 1st grade. He and I hit it off well too, with bonding hugs and playfulness when I get there. We did get to talk about his father and also go for a long bicycle ride downtown one day, so that was nice. As soon as he walks in the door from school though, he goes straight for the Xbox to play Fortnite. Mostly I am seeing a charcter running around with a pick axe or sword killing people, so it bothers me. It’s just a game the mother says; just like someone else I knew who played the game with his grandson who was a kindergartner. let I ask about his homework, and if we could do some together, but he says he doesn’t have any. It shows later that he is behind or didn’t do a lot of things. I want to be his dad and help him with his school work, anything to get him off of the Xbox. Wish denied.

The second oldest, is a 3rd grader. A sweet and awesome autistic girl who likes to draw, and is good at it too. She isn’t a hugger either. I was surprised the year before when I was working as a substitute teacher and she walked in and sat down at a table. I introduced myself quietly, and told her I was her cousin, we were family, which brought a grin to her face. I didn’t think about the fact that they were living in the upstairs of my buddy’s house, which was across the street from the school. Like her younger brother, when she gets her turn that she will sit and wait for, it is Xbox time. The game she likes will also play out by itself and includes dialogue between two angry adults about a step parent smacking one of the child characters in the face, and some other kind of drama that I can’t remember. It seemed like an animated version of the Jerry Springer show. I literally started thinking about stealing the game.

So one day it was revealed that my cousin had COVID. She didn’t ask me to, but I went over there to help with the kids because now they had to stay home from school for ten days. I am not one who normally wore a mask or was worried about getting it. I would wear a mask if required and not make a big deal about it. A part of me wanted to be exposed to someone with the virus, and see if I would get it. I got to the apartment and no one had masks on, including the person who had it. She was definitely ill, but none of the kids were. I didn’t get sick either.

The 3rd grader was about to start a virtual class, and I asked her if I could sit with her. She smiled a bit and allowed me to sit next to her on the couch. I can’t remember exactly what the feeling was, or how to label it, but it resembles a combination of a deep sense of yearning and hopefulness. I recognized the teacher.

I had seen her twice before where I donated plasma. I sincerely focused on the idea that my plasma was going to help someone, but another reality was I was going there twice a week because I couldn’t afford to pay my utility bills, gas for my truck, internet, healthy food, and yoga studio membership with what I was making full-time as a substitute teacher. I didn’t turn the furnace on in the winter because being such an old house, it wasn’t insulated well and it would run constantly.

She looked so cool and casual in a mid forearm T-Shirt, jeans, and checkered Vans. She looked healthy and I think she was reading a book too. Most people that frequent there look strung out from participating in the plasmapheresis process just so they can eat. I wondered if she was in college or something or there just a sweet person donating for goodness sake, like I wanted to be. I didn’t stare at her, but observed for a few seconds as she was getting hooked up to the machine. No sense in torturing myself. Although I would treat her with respect and be fun to hang out with, I was still in recovery from an experience that not just anyone could handle and I was broke financially. Why would an epitome want to hang out with me??

I had already started my process but she finished before me. I focused on my phone or up at the TV while she left, and probably started feeling lonely. There was a person I was spending time with, but she died a couple of years before.

The second time I saw her there, we were both in the waiting area and I actually had a chance to walk over and introduce myself and talk to her. I am a man who has done some dangerous things for work, but wondering how to or if I should approach this young lady had my fear and anxiety level on the rise. Although things were better, including my mood, I still had a low paying job helping a man pressure wash and treat wood decks and was hesitant. Another major hang up I have had was that there were other people standing nearby, that would hear our conversation if I would have approached her. I didn’t want to put either of us in an “on stage in front of everyone” position.

So then the nurse comes over and calls out in a puzzled tone.., Sar, Sareph?..

Saraphim, the girl said. I was like, her name is Saraphim? Like the Seraphim angels?! Oh. WoW.

I put her up on a pedestal. Again, I didn’t stare or gawk, but with a glance I saw that she was still healthy. I wasn’t mopey or have a lonely feeling, but there may have been some frustration set in. We weren’t in the same section this time, and I didn’t see her when I left. I’m over it now, but I was probably bummed at the time and went and bought a piece of carrot cake to eat.

So three years later, there she was on the laptop screen, my cousin’s 3rd grade teacher, Miss Awesome. She held a very strong presence in the class room, and was very nice to my cousin. I don’t know if she could see me or not, but I wasn’t acknowledged. Without going into any of the hardship story that had transpired the past decade, I started wondering if I was going to be blessed and somehow get a chance to meet her. I typed some sort of Thank You for my young cousin, and moved from the classroom area.

After telling that story to my cousin, and asking if my new plan to send some flowers to the teacher was OK or not, she gave me the OK. So the next day I went to Kroger and bought a nice vase and some colorful flowers. Then I went to a cool craft shop that had handmade cards. I got a blank one and drew a picture of her family crest on it with colored pencils. I rushed, and it probably looked like a 3rd grader’s level of art skills, wrote some lighthearted goofy poem about appreciating her for the kind of person she was, and put both my cousin’s name and mine on the card. Then I added a schnib of paper with a joke on it to hopefully make her smile. It didn’t have anything mentioning meeting her or my number inviting her to call me, just a Thank You. I would leave it up to the future if I would see her out somewhere again. I buzzed the front door of the school and asked someone to deliver them for me, and left. No message came in at my cousin’s that she had received it, and I wondered if she even got them.

A few to several weeks after that, I was taking my trailer over to my buddy’s house across the street from the school. I noticed that the bus was loading some kids up, but I didn’t think anything about it. After I was done parking the trailer and was about to pull out of the driveway, I saw Miss Awesome walking to her car in the church’s parking lot that is also across the street from the school AND my buddy’s house. This was it. I had passed up starting a conversation with women so many times not being secure with at least my financial status. My truck is a small, twenty-five year old shabby looking ride. I changed out a bunch of the parts and it runs very well! I had a bit of a nicer truck that I would have felt more comfortable in, but it was sabotaged and I sold it, and moved on.

I stayed as calm as possible and went for it. I pulled across the street into the church parking lot and drove up to where she was. As nervous and insecure as I was, I manned up and stopped and greeted her with a smile and Hi my name is Jason, do You have time to talk? She had her car door open and smiled back, but said No. I said, Well, I sent You some flowers and I wondered if You got them. She tilted her head and gave another smile and said, Oh Yeahhh, like she may have appreciated it. Then I nerded out and told her I appreciated that my 3rd grader said none of the kids liked her, that she was mean. I figured that meant strict and traits of a good teacher. The whole conversation was probably under two minutes long until I was pulling away, fighting off focusing on the rejection, or in denial that it didn’t bother me.

However, within a block down the street I started talking to myself positively, and feeling proud that I finally crossed a threshold and approached someone. I especially acknowledged the fact that I rolled up, as is, This is me. Although I didn’t get an opportunity to talk to her, someone that seemed like an ideal person I would like to meet, that was the day that I took a big step toward being more secure with who I am. I started feeling good about the experience. There were no hard feelings. She was a plasma giving, elementary school teacher, my sweet cousin’s teacher. I had donated plasma and had that job and wanted to give her a gift with no strings attached, and that is what happened.

FIVE WEEKS LATER.. My phone rings and it’s my buddy from across the street. There are two of the town cops looking for me to give me a letter that included allegations that I harassed Miss Awesome that day. I spoke on the phone to one of the officers; he said I was banned from all! school! properties! in! the! city! :D !!!!!

Coincidently both of my vehicles were towed from a business that has been closed for several year’s parking lot the day before. $300 to get them from the tow yard that was on the far west side from downtown where I lived. After offering a donation, I parked my truck to the church’s lot. I went to the church many years ago, and my grandmother was the secretary, retiring right before she died. The story was that seeing my grungy truck sent her into a state of panic and fear.

I didn’t rush, but went to get the letter and see what was going on. A lie was what was going on, and after reading the letter I knew it was gas lighting connected to my vehicles being towed, and all of the other things that have happened. I had nowhere to take the truck, so left it there with confidence until I figured what I was going to do with the truck.

After speaking to a school official about the matter on the phone, I was banned from the school’s property. The cop I spoke to got carried away, being protective. It may have been her boyfriend or understandingly he liked her. I told him someone put her up to it, but he went on with what she said.

A few weeks later I considered trying to find out the truth about the ordeal, and went into detective, attorney, and prosecutor mode. Not out of defense, but to do something different this time with the shenanigans that people create for me to deal with. I have always just kept it moving and rise above their games. I toyed with a defamation suit that would result in them paying for the expenses to have my Auto-Fiction book about my experiences published.

It states that the letter was sent to me, but where is the envelope? Why is the letter not folded like it has been in an envelope? If You were scared, why didn’t You just get in your car and call the cops??, the door was open and You were about to get in as I was pulling up. Tell the jury exactly was said during the several minutes that went by. After these couldn’t be answered, I wanted to know who set it up and why.

I was going through all of these things and couldn’t decide. Should I show my security of who I am, and let the whole town where I grew up think wrongly of me??, or do I take action and stand up for myself publicly.

Then I remembered she had on camouflage pants, and started flipping that around. Was she letting me know she was a soldier and about to start some conflict??, or was this going to be a false flag operation to challenge my sense of self worth and integrity.

I started thinking that although there have been numerous challenges spanning over a decade, there have also been as many or more instances to encourage me to better myself and break the cycle of negative thought patterns.

At first my heart crumbled a bit or more. She taught me to not put people on pedestals, no matter how awesome they seem. The letter was bogus, because the letter WAS bogus. The person that was described in the letter wasn’t me, and I know that.

I’m proud of me and I Love all of the people that have beating the Hell out of me. Even if they are mistakes, I am continuing to make moves to keep rising and make a better life for myself.

I procrastinated and/or didn’t think I was going to submit something again. I'll have to add the rest of the story later, about how I recognized I started being a control freak like my cousin's husband who passed. Same, but different. It is what the challenge's subject was about.

I submit and admit to my faulty behavior, again.

No matter what has been done..

I am being sincere, and thankfully bow to You all for the lessons. Namaste.