Talent AntFolk

Shopping at Walmart with Autism: A True Story

By AntFolk | 2007

Shopping at Wal-Mart with Autism:
A True Story by Mary I.

I’m not trying to scare anyone or create a thriller. I’m trying to give someone who doesn’t have autism a glimpse into my world. I want people to have an idea what struggles I deal with on a daily basis behind the screen of my pseudonym and my creations. This is the real world and what I have to cope with. My story is not unique. Thousands, maybe millions of people go through the same struggles I do, not just on a daily basis, but several times a day. Though not many people are aware of it. My hopes are to shed light on this ambiguous thing called autism and help people better understand how an autistic person sees the world. Not every autistic person can communicate with the world the same way I do, but I guarantee that they think and feel the same frustrations I do, only they may not be able to speak verbally.

I need to buy some supplies but I cannot go alone. For some reason going alone creates anxiety. This anxiety I cannot get past. Imagine having to take a plane trip to a foreign country that you haven’t visited. Not to mention you don’t know the language. I’m sure with coaxing and a helpful friend, eventually you would go. That’s the way I feel about going shopping on my own. It’s even more frightening if I haven’t seen the place or gone with someone before. I decide to go with my grandma. I know her and feel comfortable with her. I wait until she needs to go shopping there. She takes her car. We turn and twist through the parking lot which is glistening and glowing with several colored cars. The sun reflects off their windows causing blinding streaks of light in my eyes. I pull down the shade and try to look away. I don’t like damaging my eyes by accidentally looking such a harsh gleam of light. Those spots are floating in the sky, in front of my view, from the gleam that caused me to pull down the shade. It takes time for those to fade. We open the door. The roaring from the street and all the traffic hurts my ears like a jet engine taking off. I try to run into the store, but then I remember to run back and wait for my grandma to come out first. People say I should wait for her and help her because that’s the right thing to do. Only I have no idea what that means. How do I know when people need help? That stuff doesn’t come instinctively to me. I must be taught how to behave in front of others. Even then I have difficulty applying it to situations. So far my grandma seems to have left the car fine. She got out okay. I remember she said she likes to use a shopping cart for a walker. I find one for her and push it. The roaring from the cart as I push it across the pavement hurts my ears. I try to give her the cart as quickly as possible. Meanwhile the multi colors of the cars and all the visual confusion is making me sick, not like a flu sick, but more like a surreal dream like sick. I try to walk slowly with my grandma. Eventually we make it to the store. I’m assaulted by beeps and boops of the cash register checkers. The beeps echo through my ears and cause pain. I quickly rush past that area. While I glance at the several columns of stuff, I am overwhelmed by all the flashy colors and the details. There’s not only the visual stuff, but words and sounds echoed throughout the store. I’ve got my mental list of things I want. I must get them, but I’m too busy trying to avoid being hit by the oncoming traffic. Remember playing bumper cars at the local fair? Okay, that gives you a good idea. Only I’m trying not to hit other people and not be hit myself. I grab a cart at the front of the store. Hopefully it pushes well and doesn’t make a ruckus. I try to ignore the sound while trying to avoid crashing into something. I’m trying to look away from the lights and all the colorful things. For some reason I find myself in the plant area. I don’t need anything here, but I feel comfortable. I have plants at home. They give me comfort. I don’t need a plant, but here it gives me comfort. I linger for a while, then realize shoot, I need to get something else. I don’t know where to go. Instead of trying to read the little signs on the top I try to weave through the aisles. I try to pick aisles that don’t have people coming through. I don’t want to collide into them. Eventually I find the item I needed. One item down, five more to go. I repeat the process until I’m so overwhelmed I’m about to break down into tears. I’m tired, my feet hurt, and plus the commotion is getting too difficult to bear. I know that only half the battle is over. I must wait in line at the dreaded register. Remember what I said about the beeps? Well this time I can’t flee from them. I have to stand and wait, even though I picked the register with the least people standing by. My mind wanders and I’m taken to a hospital. Beep…beep…beep. The patient is still alive and stable. We don’t know for how long. Any moment the patient my go south and then panicked surgeons will rush in.
I look in front of me. The people in front of me are gone. I look behind and there are more people waiting. I hurry up to put my stuff on the conveyor belt as fast as I can. I don’t want them to be waiting any more. They may have already had to wait while I was daydreaming. After I finish, I pull out my card to pay for the items. I hope the card’s server is not down. I had that once and that’s the most terrible thing ever, or at least at the time. While I’m drowning in a sea of frantic thoughts, I miraculously manage to type my pin accurately. Items paid for. I grab my stuff hoping I got everything. Sometimes they are already filling up the person’s items behind me. I try to figure out which stuff is mine and which is theirs while I try to grab what I have. I double check. Okay, got everything. Mission accomplished. Now I must find grandma to get home. Problem is I can’t see her. I’m already on the verge of a panic attack just from surviving the cash register. Not being able to find my grandma pushes me over the edge. Now where is she? How am I to get home? I can’t stand this nightmare of a place called “Wall-mart.” By now everything is swirling through my mind’s eye like a dream. Colors are vibrating and the walls shaking. I’m glancing around, moving my eyes rapidly back and forth. I scan the aisles. Still no sight of grandma. I remember she said something about going to the grocery store. Could she have left and planned to pick me up later? Sometimes she does. Tears form in my eyes. I cannot wait much longer. I go to the info desk, and wait in their sometimes long line. Meanwhile I’m trying to cover my eyes because I feel embarrassed out of my mind. Normal people don’t break down and cry just about every time they go shopping. What makes me so different? I approach the counter and tell the person, “I have autism. I can’t find my grandma who is to take me home. She is hard at hearing and will not hear if you call her name over the PA.” Then they tell me to describe. I try to throw off stuff at the top of a hat, whatever I can think of with my state of mind. Just to my luck, she approaches me and I become relieved. I exclaim with a smile, “She’s right there!”
I rush over with my cart and hug grandma. I’m happy to see her and be taken away from this Hell they call Wall-mart.
“Where were you?” I ask my grandma.
“Right by the door waiting for you,” she answers. Really? How could I have missed her? I looked in that area and didn’t see her. It must be my autism that blinds me. After we get in the car and escape the area, I feel relieved. I hold my prizes and rewards in my hand; my shopping bag full of goodies. I earned them after all I had to suffer to get them. This story isn’t based off any one particular trip, but a compilation of several trips I’ve gone. I’ve found I have to make my shopping trips rather short and only get a few items per every couple weeks or so. To me such stress can only be handled once every other week. Any more is pushing my limits. Replace Wall-mart with the grocery store or other “big box” stores and you can see why I am very reluctant to go shopping.