About Halfway

About halfway

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire.  Or at least that is how it felt when I, the youngest (and the only) of 7 children, was let go from a position for the 2nd time in my life.  As I am pretty sure that none of them have ever been let go… from anything.  Hey just another great experience to chalk up to my 45th year on this planet, marking about the halfway point here on Earth.

It started about 7 weeks earlier when one of the other Account Managers had agreed to let me shadow him for a day.  To say I was fledgling in the role, was putting it mildly. I had not gotten one referral during the nearly half a year in the position. When our company finally had a face to face meeting where all of the Account Managers attended, it was my first time meeting the more successful AM’s face to face- I thought this had to be the opportunity I was waiting for - my lucky break.  Sandra had never been open to setting up a time for me to shadow the most senior Account Manager, in spite of my several requests, as she felt her training was adequate.  Sandra, the 5’8” force to be reckoned with, was the company’s CFO and although she was as brilliant in brains and motivation, as were her blue eyes and sense of humor, I just could not pin down the approach that was supposed to empower me to get referrals.  

About a week later, as I was rounding out my day with about an hour of work left of my workday, my cell sounded - Sandra was calling. There was a bit of a lurch in my stomach, which I chalked up to not knowing why she would be calling at that time of day.  Once I answered, it didn’t take long for this daughter of a retired cop from Detroit, to make it clear that there would be no job shadowing the following Thursday, she had already informed the other Account Manager, and “who did I think I was” or “what did I think I was doing” trying to plan this behind her back.  Although I realized this was probably a rhetorical question, I thought she might be looking for an answer, so when I tried to explain that I was hoping the outcome would mean more referrals and that she would realize I did have initiative and skills to succeed, it fell on deaf ears or maybe it never even got out.  

Since that idea bubble above my head holding the promise of “Account Manager of the year” popped, I realized I could not dwell and had to accept it.  Although I was not feeling particularly full of energy after that call, I was glad I actually had something on my agenda that night.  I was going to watch Faith, the nonverbal 11 year old autistic girl, who I knew through volunteering and church, for our first 2 hours visit to offer respite for her and her parents.  The distraction would be good for me, I thought… and if nothing else, maybe it would lead me to other doors that were meant to be opened. 

My hope was fulfilled, I thought, as I was pushing her on a swing just a couple hours later.  We walked from their apartment, crossed a side street to a great little park where we played on swings, jungle gym, and zipline for what I thought had to be close to an hour.  Knowing that her mom had MS, limiting a lot of what she could do physically, I got the impression that her parents didn’t take her out much leaving her with an atomic amount of pent up energy that seemed to keep her going long past anyone else could tolerate.  Prior events of my day placed the even larger demand on that carefree “kid at heart” mentality I found myself reverting to when life took a turn I never really anticipated for myself, making me think it was my job to help her have fun and at the same time, wear her out so her parents could finally get some rest and peace of mind.  

It was time to head home, so I made the announcement and although it wasn’t quite as easy as it was to get there, we started making our way back to her apartment.  She was acting out a bit, making her loud vocal noises, trying to bite my hand to stop from holding hands, and at times, did get away and ran in front of me a bit.  This was clearly not going well - something was wrong and I did not know how I had failed, suddenly becoming the “angry adult” and had no idea how to manage the situation.  In hindsight, after having learned more about autism, I realize I did not give her the time to adjust to the ending of her free time outdoors, absorb that we were going to head home, so that she could adjust to the idea that we were going to walk home and she was going to get ready for bed, and I was going to be leaving.  So as she was running a little further ahead and turned to look at me with a taunting glint in her eye, I was not catching onto what the problem was or what was to come.

My initial relief at finally nearing the entrance of her apartment building was quickly replaced with downright livid as she pulled her shorts and underwear down to her ankles, stood up, and when I started to reprimand her, she squatted and yes, did several “number 2’s” right on the asphalt in front of the screen door.  In a millisecond, I became my mother and I wanted to ring her neck, but at the same time, didn’t know if we should pull up her pants because she should wipe herself, clean the mess before anyone else came, or buzz to get into her building.  

Miraculously, the door buzzed and I was planning on having all of us - Faith, her mother, and me, go back to the scene of the crime so she could clean up her mess.  But when mom gave the towel to Faith, she went right back outside and I was ready to follow, but Mom kept talking to me at the doorway and complaining about her behavior; where I could not see what was happening.  When I finally was able to catch a glimpse of Faith, she was halfway across the parking lot, turning around as though taunting me to come and follow so we could play more of her little games.  All I remember is trying to run across the parking lot and calling out for her, yet trying not to be too reactive, causing her to really bolt.  

I had no idea how tall and thick the prairie grass was until I tried to find her by marching/running through it instead of going through the treeline that bordered the interstate… The interstate, oh my gosh, I could suddenly feel all of the anger, fear, and frustration Mom felt all those times we, usually my brothers, crossed a line that should never be crossed.  

I kept thinking I might see her pop up through the grass or peak out from behind a tree, but nothing, except for the sound of interstate traffic.  When I finally got to the furthest section of treeline that, once crossed, went to a stripmall across the street from McDonald’s, followed by the busiest street in town, leading to the interstate.  You may think I had some audacity to not call her Mom and Dad or the police sooner, but until then, I thought I would see her, still thought she was playing a game. I was not prepared for what came next.

For as long as I could remember, I thought of myself as a protector of children, someone who could relate to them when the adults got too busy with their own lives to notice what was going on with these people running around in little bodies.  So the fact that I hadn’t had Faith in my charge for more than 90 minutes when I had to call Mom and give her the message:

“I cannot find your child.”

Not the exact words, but close I am sure and needless to say, Mom was frantic, angry, scared and said she was going to call the cops.  Although I already felt my stomach flip flop, I finally thought I might vomit - I wished I would, given my relatively cavalier and careless attitude from earlier that night.  I didn’t know what to do; stay in one place to see if she still might pop up somewhere? Go back to the apartment to get my car?  But I felt that if I got that far without seeing her, the allure of freedom would keep her running.  Although smarter than she is often given credit for, testing at a much lower level than her 11 years, the reality that she could encounter some sort of malice - I couldn’t let those thoughts takeover my mind - as I don’t know how I would forgive myself if that were the outcome.

I cleared the treeline and parking lot, feeling a little more hopeless as I was seeing so many more potential hiding spots and considering so many more perilous situations.  I just stayed for a few minutes until finally a call. 

The police had called Mom back and she was found at… the Menard’s parking lot? 

Menard’s? 

This preteen gets a chance to bolt and she ends up in the Menard’s parking lot? 

So, it was more this idea that the location didn’t make sense to me, before the bigger issue, the one her parents and the police - responsible adults would be concerned about - had set in.  She had to either cross the two busiest four-lane highways on foot or someone had to have given her a ride to get there.