normal visit to the store with HFA

Post Reply New Topic

The sunlight is unbearable as you step out of the vehicle. You scrunch your face and make your eyes into tiny slits as you slowly navigate yourself to the other side of the car. Sunlight hurts your eyes. You turn one of the drawstrings on your jacket over and over in your hand, mesmerized with the pattern woven into it as you wait for your mother to step out of the vehicle. Once she does, you step back to make sure she squeezes through the tiny space between the cars first and you follow behind, eyes glued to the pavement.

You aren’t sure where to put your hands, so you clasp them in front of you as you walk stiffly between the maze of cars. You blindly follow your mother’s shoes, never once looking up to make sure there aren’t any cars about to take off.

Your mother holds the door open for the people entering the store behind you, but you must wait until she is through and that there aren’t any more people behind you before you begin to walk again. Your mother grabs a cart and you follow behind her through the aisles, careful not to step on the lines in the floor. You notice one isle has many boxes, and you want to line them up in perfect lines. You’re also fascinating with food labels and you want to read and compare them all.

The next isle has many types of spicy foods. In the corner of your eye you see one of your favorites, ingredients for homemade pizza. Your mother begins loading the cart with lots and lots of it but stops when she sees that the specific brand of sauce you like is out. You get angry and start grunting, pressing your eyes in with your hands and rocking. Of course, you know you have a right to be mad because that is your favorite food (you’ve eaten it for lunch and dinner for several weeks now straight) and that it wouldn’t be right with a different sauce so your mother doesn’t get another sauce and you do not eat lunch and dinner again until it’s back in stock. Your mother sighs, and continues on.

Your mother encounters someone she is familiar with in the next isle, and they begin to talk. You aren’t sure what to do, however, so you stand there staring down at your feet. You aren’t sure what you should say, so when asked something you smile and say “I don’t know” at everything she asks because you’ve learnt smiling is the polite thing to do. But they continue to talk so you get nervous and start pacing. You soon walk into another area of the store but you realize that the area was remodeled and this makes you even more nervous. You try to quickly find your mother again but you nearly bump into someone in doing so. Once you locate her again she isn’t with her friend anymore, and you feel a little better.

In the checkout line you help your mother unload the shopping cart, being sure the items are stacked neatly. You then take a moment to take in your surroundings for the first time since you’ve been there and realize the store is getting very crowded. But all the people moving around is confusing so you return your focus back to your shoes. Soon a family gets in line behind you however, and you feel trapped because they are too close. You want to close your eyes but you know you cannot do that so you return them to tiny slits and hum while tapping your hand to your chin over and over again. The world seems far away, as if you have no part in it anymore. Your mother finally gets done and you follow behind, away from the madness of the store and back towards the safety of your car.

You put on your headphones and as you walk you walk to the rhythm of the song you’ve been listening to non-stop for the past two weeks. Finally, you blindly reach for the handle of the door of the vehicle and step in (the sun is still facing that way). Your mother starts the engine as you retreat into the safety of a game of solitaire on your iPod, your most beloved device and your most favorite game. You like how the cards all need to be arranged into perfect patterns-- by color, by suit. You continue to play until you get home.

Just another ordinary visit to the supermarket.

====
It's 5 am and I can't sleep, so I wrote this while I was thinking about how difficult and confusing a visit to the store is for me. This is written on how I act and the same experiences I've had while going to the grocery store. Again, this isn't very great considering the time and how quick I wrote it but maybe someone will enjoy it or give it to someone for a perspective on what it's like for someone with asperger's or autism to visit the store. Thank you.

that was very well written.

i am an adult and i have no one to steward me at my supermarket.

i have to go there almost every day because i can not think into the future to buy what i will need tomorrow.

i get rather cranky and frustrated at impediments to my progress.
when i am driving to the supermarket, i have to negotiate around other people and that starts me to be a bit frazzled.

when i get there, i park underground at the spot closest to the lift. if it is taken, i am displaced and i then have to work out what other car space i want. people beep their horns behind me because i stop and look at the occupied car space that i usually use.
i find an alternative car spot with unease.
when i am waiting at the elevator, i worry that people will start small talk. i inspect minute details of the elevator buttons or other things and hope no one wishes to interrupt me with a conversation.

when i get to the store, i always have extreme difficulty in navigating around people.
they suddenly change their direction of walking and i can not process it and i smash into them.

i choose a single line to walk along, and other people circle around unpredictably.

then i am also annoyed when i get to a shelf where i am going to retrieve an item and there are people standing in front of me blocking my access and just talking.
i have no easy way of getting to the product without offending them.
i can not calculate a socially acceptable way to tell them to get out of my way, so when i say "get out of my way", they get annoyed and i just want the product i am trying to get.

often when i go to the shops, i leave behind a wake of disgruntled people.

at the self service checkout where you scan your own products, i get madly impatient at people who are slow and silly and they should go to a non self service checkout.

but i become pre-meltdown when the machine does not accept my money and keeps repeating "please insert cash or select other payment method", and dopes behind me assume i am fumbling and stupid.
then i am inclined to insult the people in the queue behind me and that leads to more sourness for them.

a trip to the shops is usually an ordeal.

.

just got back from a trip to the store so thought I would share:

Before leaving I make a list, this is to prevent me from just wandering from aisle to aisle and spending more than I had wanted. As I will later find out I have forgotten to put items on the list (this always happens, especially if I try to do so hastily).

Leave apartment and head towards store. There is a Firehouse Subs that just opened on the way. I scan the parking lot to discern whether it will be crowded inside. Its before noon on a Sunday and thankfully only two other customers inside when I go in. This is the fourth time I have been here and thankfully it is quiet, the TVs volumes are low and I place my order. Six stimming minutes later my food is ready. They include a pickle with the sandwiches here, which I think is great.

Finish eating and head across street to store. While the sub place was quiet the parking for the store is pretty full (ugh, could be an interesting ordeal). I debate leaving my iPod on but decide I'll muddle thru. List in hand I get a hand basket, I'll know I'm done shopping if it gets too heavy or I've gotten what was on my list. Upon heading towards the first item on my list, I immediately remember what I forget to put on there. I got a quesadilla maker two Christmases ago and still have not used it. I always tell myself to find out what I need besides tortillas (how long can they be kept anyway?) and I always forget. Right off the bat, I'm distracted so even with the list in hand I start wandering the aisles substituting items I find for items on the list (instead of Pop Tarts I'll get these bagefuls -- bagel type things with the cream cheese already inside and so on). I spend about five minutes whether I should get some Instant Grits that my brother George raved about in a recent e-mail (he's in the Navy and doesn't get the privilege of the occasional home cooked meal). I can't recall the brand name he mentioned so I get the store-brand (these may go uneaten even if the box sits in full view on my countertop).

Good Lord its crowded! A lot of stopping and starting on my part to navigate the aisles. It doesn't help that I'm trying to focus on my list as if its a map. Before checking out I head to the magazine/book rack. There's on of those sample stands right in front of it ( ) so I can't peruse the selection. Flustered I head towards the checkouts ( )

The self-checkouts are packed and I opt for the regular checkout and fumble thru the small talk with the cashier. As she bags my items I test the weight of each bag so I can have an even weight in each hand as I go home.

The total is less that $40, which should last me for a few days. I really should do this on my day off during the week when its not as crowded. Leaving I'm finally able to breathe regularly.

No disasters inside although I sneezed a lot on the way home, lots of pollen in the air I guess. This is fairly typical on any trip to the store I make. Except for the sneezing part after. Anybody got any tips for quesadillas so I can plan for my next trip?

So if I ran a bit long...

J.

i thought on this planet it was ok to run on

ohh please don't let it be busy. lemme see if i got the list. the list is in a pocket. which pocket? pants or jacket or purse? is that the left or right pocket? not the one with the keys in it, the keys will make the list fall out. ok. which pocket is the list in? do i have a pen? need a pen to cross stuff off the list.

keys. lock all the doors of the house, get in the car. do i still have the list? ok.

ok remember the bags from the back seat, remember those before going into the store.
the store isn't so far away, that's good. nothing will melt. though it does mean the car doesn't warm up all the way before i get there. that's bad for the engine.

... at the store. if it's the weekend, brace yourselves... the weekday when it's the odd mom or old person it's much better. or the all night grocery, where it's only skids of food to have to navigate around.

get out of car... ok lock door of car. do i have keys? yes, not locking myself out of the car. walk away. did i lock car? check. oh. ok, i did, but forgot bags. get keys. open car, lock car. get bags. have keys? yes. shut door, walk... THE LIST! ok I still have the list. what do i do first? i have a list. do i start with the produce? produce isn't like frozen food, it doesn't melt. ok, so produce first. just use the bags, even though maybe the store clerks will think i'm stealing, it makes more sense, and is easier to carry than the basket. the basket hurts.

people. children are scary people, and why are they poking the green peppers? they hang off the carts, banging into things, they stare at me. stopstaringstopstaringstopstaringstopstaringstopstaringstopstaring

ok what's on the list? is that my handwriting? did i remember to ask my sister what to put on the list? did i forget anything? ok. focus.

[produce picking is an oscillation between getting obsessive to find the perfect one, and just avoiding the thing altogether because they are all overwhelming. don't know which one to pick up first. i doubt i'll eat any of it anyway. especially the fruit.]

the water sprays down on the vegetables while im picking them, and while that would've made me shriek before now i just grit teeth and pretend i didn't feel anything, imagine it could feel nice and refreshing. why don't they have dispensers of tissues in the produce section?

the list migrated to somewhere else. where is it? ok DON'T get any dairy. those blocks of cheese look tempting. but don't. skip the bread too. ok my list is useless. I don't even know what to get. every product has dairy in it when i read the label.

people are pushing carts and not looking where they are going. i stopped using a cart a long time ago. when i used to go with my ex, i would take on the cart as the only job i had while shopping, she could pick out everything and i would just steer the cart and make sure it got in no one's way. so now i'm doing it alone, i won't use a cart. i hover trying to wait patiently until a lady is done picking out her cans of wax beans. i will push an unattended cart away if it's blocking me, but then worry the entire time i'm in the aisle that someone will come back and yell about it.

by the time produce and a few aisles are done, the yellows and reds so famously used in packaging start to pulsate, my ears are ringing and the noises all echo. i try to control my irritability as i pass a woman talking on the cellphone while trying to pick out peanut butter. it's not about peanut butter. listen, don't listen. listen, don't listen.

the food isn't making sense.

isn't this where the coconut milk was last time? where is the coconut milk? wait. is that on my list? no. did i not put it on my list because i checked and we had plenty, or did i forget to check?
is the aluminum foil with the plastic bags and paper products or with the baking stuff?
where do they put the honey, in baking or with the peanut butter, or what?
and what about rice cakes? with the bread or the rice?
i guess i have to make another pass through all the aisles.

meat. convert lbs to kg or kg to lbs so i can figure out how much to get. ah never mind that, just go with the cheapest package. SLIMY! ugh, the meat feels terrible, now my hand is wet and i don't want to touch anything.

have to race through the cold sections, by the cold parts i am not bothering with the list anymore and am just racing to get finished. the cold blows up my pant legs and into my sleeves. won't even bother seeing if there is any frozen dessert without dairy or soy.

lines. lines lines. never trust the lighted numbers above the registers. sometimes the ones not lit are still occupied. everyone buys a ton of food. why is that man's cart full of apple juice cans? if there is a self-checkout, sure, if there isn't a big lineup. don't like the express line, there are a lot of people there and they all stare at each others groceries. yeah, the guy with the spinach is better than the lady with the hungry man frozen dinner. get over it.

and kid, stopstaringstopstaringstopstaringstopstaringstopstaringstopstaring pleeeeease. look away. look at how the magazine rack was welded together. something.

beepBEEPbeep beep.beep. BEEP BEEP BEEP
some of the cashiers are faster than others.
beebBEEPBEEPbeepbEEP
and the tones are all different, interesting, do they do that on purpose or did some kid stuff a cheez-it into the speaker behind me?

is the cashier gonna say hi? how are you? will i? will i say it first? if she doens't say it will i say it the way she'd say it? if i say it that way will she get pissed that i'm doing her job for her? i can tell when she hates her job. i can tell she's tired. i want to hide.

they always say to look at all the numbers of all the items, but the only thing that interests me is the produce. wow, an apple was 29cents. i should do something with that apple, like maybe fry it up into a compote or something.

oh right. i have to pay. ok thanks BYE!!
oh geez i gotta get out of here already.

um.. all of a sudden she's running after me?
oh. apparently in my madness to get out, i forgot half the groceries i paid for.

where are my keys? [they're always in a different place] pants or jacket? right or left? which is my right side again? oh. they're in the bag.

The solution is a retractable key chain or a plain string tied to a belt loop on your trousers and long enough that your keys can reach any lock you want to open without untying the string. Not sure that works well for car keys, but works for everything else.

Thank you very much for these insights!

Another reason why I can't actually have any form of PDD - the world is simply not that confusing to me.

Excellent description, buryuntime.

I rarely go food shopping, but will show how it is for me. I wrote most of the following notes after going out on a nice day last summer (oddly, also in the second person, like your own description).



Stepping outside, the day is mild and sunny. The route has been taken before, but your step's unsure; it feels like the first time.

Distracted by objects caught in peripheral vision, you attend to details surrounding your feet. You cannot see ahead. Flowers scream at you from the grass. (Even blades of grass scream at you from the grass.) The light is penetrating.

Attempting to focus disjointed perceptions, you establish a steady pace; each step juddering through your body, up to your skull and teeth. Clothing is a constant irritant, itching, pinching, and flapping in the breeze. The place is almost deserted, your senses already crowded.

You stumble a little; any movement makes you startle. You brace as people pass by, adjusting your posture to emulate normality (though you'd rather curl into a ball.)

The mild breeze carries odors, blocking your nose; a headache begins.

You turn down a familiar path; or is it? Traffic streams by; your perceptions fragment; concentration becomes a struggle. The dancing shadows of tree leaves below are disorientatating, and you veer to one side. Familiar surroundings reappear; the steady pace is maintained until you reach your destination.

You enter the store.

The light is harsh and flickering; disorientating. Eyes everywhere.

People maneuver chaotically, aiming directly for you. Unsure how to navigate past, you freeze, or swerve to one side.

The air, putrid and stale, induces nausea. A freezing draft hits you down one aisle; refrigerators are humming.

Each step brings you nearer your limit; it's uncertain whether you'll locate your desired items in time.

The background din works steadily to keep you off balance. With nausea and exhaustion mounting, you reach the checkout. More eyes; now they linger rather than pass by.

You mechanically execute a routine, even managing to recite some script. Nearly there. Grabbing the final bag, you break away, striding swiftly toward the exit. The surroundings--noise, sights, smells--blur into one.

Thanks for the replies. =] Very awesome, thanks for sharing.