Tag Archives: True Story

The Harrowing Night of My Experience with Sleep Paralysis

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

Damned near scared me to death

Photo by Rulo Mora: https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-wearing-a-mask-and-a-black-robe-14075066/

I was sound asleep one night. I had to be at work the next morning. It was early, the house was quiet. Something jolted me awake. My body stiffened. I had no control over my movements. My body tingled and the hair on my head and body stood up. I felt an energy-like static electricity all over my body.

I lay there helpless and terrified. The terror ratcheted when I heard a disembodied voice, “ I’m going to kill you and your entire family.” The voice I heard was calm and matter-of-fact.

Was it real, or was it programming?

My mom was still alive at the time. When I was younger I went to Charismatic church services with her. “Binding Satan in the name of Jesus,” and casting out Demons were things I grew used to hearing about.

When the voice grew silent, the static electricity left my body and the paralysis ended. The voice scared me and it pissed me off. I don’t know if it did any good, but I started to rebuke Satan.

At least it made me feel better, so it couldn’t have hurt

I rebuked the bastard and invoked the name of Jesus. I ordered Satan out of my face and home. As I said, It might have been a waste of time, but it made me feel better.

I haven’t thought about that night in a while. I have been listening to “The Huberman Podcast. Dr. Huberman has been conducting Interviews with Dr. Mathew Walker Ph.D. Dr. Walker wrote, “ Why We Sleep.”

Sleep Paralysis serves a purpose, but it’s scary to wake up like that

It’s a wide-ranging series of Interviews that had me taking notes. There is a name for what happened to me that night. I Googled “ Sleep Paralysis” and found a lot of interesting information.

What happened to me that night has happened to other people as well. Unsurprisingly, other cultures attribute the event to witches and Demons. It raises the question, was I dreaming? or was there a real demon threatening me?

Fortunately, it doesn’t happen too often

All I know is that I never again had sleep paralysis. I still have nightmares on occasion and I sleepwalk. I haven’t walked in my sleep or had a nightmare in a while.

Sleep paralysis serves a purpose. If we weren’t immobilized, we would act out our dreams and run the risk of hurting ourselves. Sleep Paralysis happens as we fall into, or out of deep sleep. Twenty-five to fifty percent of Americans have had sleep paralysis at least once.

Suppose you have never experienced it. I can tell you it makes an impression. That night happened thirty-five years ago. I still remember it like it happened last night.

Final Thought:

There is more to reality than what we see every day. There is the external world we interact with and there’s the world inside our heads. There is also a spiritual world. I glimpsed the dark spiritual realm that night and I never want to experience it again.

Sleep Paralysis
Have you ever been dozing off or waking up and unable to move or speak? The experts at WebMD explain the phenomenon of…www.webmd.com

/media/6d9c2b818c8cd0d63811b906a4b1e7f0

Subscribe to receive my Stories in your inbox.

The Intriguing Consequences of a Lack of Communication Between the Two Hemispheres of the Brain

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

It makes things harder than they need to be

Photo by Anna Shvets: https://www.pexels.com/photo/finger-pointing-to-a-brain-scan-4226119/

It must have distressed my parents when I was a baby when it was time to sit up, crawl, and walk. I didn’t reach those milestones when I was supposed to. My mom told me stories of how she would be in tears because I couldn’t understand how to tie my shoes.

My parents thought they had some clarity when the doctors diagnosed my Dyslexia. How surprised they would be if they knew. Years after they passed away I found out Dyslexia wasn’t my problem.

My brain is wired differently, not a big deal at all

It was an honest mistake, I guess. Missing benchmarks is also symptomatic of Dyslexia. The “ Brain Damage” trope my parents rammed down my throat also makes sense.

It makes sense because I was born with agenesis of the corpus callosum. The corpus callosum is a white matter tract. It connects the human brain’s two hemispheres.

It could be a problem, one side needs to know what the other is doing, I guess.

The corpus callosum allows the two hemispheres to communicate with each other. With agenesis, the corpus callosum doesn’t form, or The organ might not be there.

As you might imagine, when the two hemispheres of our brains can’t communicate with each other. There will be issues. It’s why I’m so clumsy and prone to messiness and disorganization.

It’s also why I overcompensate by doing things the same way, and it’s why I dislike change.

I grew up believing I was Dyslexic, but it appears that’s not true

Dyslexia and agenesis share a few of the same traits. Traits like sitting up and walking later than I should have. Having trouble learning to tie shoes is also a trait of Dyslexia and agenesis.

I thought it was interesting when I read the neuropsychologist’s report. It clearly stated that there was no evidence of Dyslexia. I had the symptoms. I understand how the doctors made the mistake when I was young.

ADHD is a common symptom of agenesis

I haven’t been diagnosed with ADHD. If I had I wasn’t told about it. I have some of the traits. ADHD is a common symptom of agenesis. I have always had trouble focusing and sitting still. When I was a child the doctors prescribed drugs to calm me down.

They threw the drugs away, I’m not sure it was the right thing to do

My parents threw the drugs away because they turned me into a zombie. I always wondered why I had a hard time sleeping at night. Insomnia is one of the symptoms. I read the myriad of symptoms and shook my head in amazement.

It was like reading the story of my life. A man is supposed to be able to assemble things work on an engine and change a tire. If you see me trying to change a tire get your phone out and record the show.

The video will go viral.

Anger and bitterness are wastes of energy, I’m trying hard to let it go

I spent most of my life bitter about my situation. I wondered why I had no talents or gifts. I was angry at my parents and God for putting me on the earth to take up space and not be good for anything.

I owe my late parents and my God an apology. I have the gift of writing and communicating. It took a lifetime to find those gifts, it took too long but I’m making up for lost time.

The past doesn’t matter, I’m doing better here and now

Bitterness served no purpose. The hand that I was dealt doesn’t matter. What matters is how I’m playing the cards I’m dealt with. I’m determined to make the later stages of my life the best part of my life.

Making peace with myself is the start of that journey.

Final Thought:

None of us are perfect. I’m finding out late in life the reasons I had so much trouble. It’s a struggle, but I’m doing my best to stop letting my limitations get me down. I’m working hard and I’m defying the expectations of doctors and family members.

Whatever limitation you have, keep fighting. Continue to learn and grow as a person. It will be harder for you than it is with other people, but the victory of overcoming will be sweeter. Whatever you do, don’t be bitter. I know from experience that bitterness will weigh you down and keep you from your goals.

Never give up.

Subscribe to receive my stories in your inbox.

Interpreting a Psychiatric Report: Contemplating Borderline Intellectual Functioning
Trying to keep things in perspectivemedium.com

Did a Wrong Diagnosis of Dyslexia Hold Me Back?

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

I don’t know what to think

Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-an-elderly-man-with-gray-facial-hair-8860209/

While I was cleaning out my Google Cloud storage, I came across the results of tests I underwent by a neuropsychologist and his team. I used my cellphone to photograph each page. I included the report in the paperwork I sent to apply for Disability.

I knew deep in my heart that Dyslexia wasn’t my problem

It’s been interesting reading, and it’s given me a lot to think about. The thing that jumped out at me yesterday when I was re-reading the report. I grew up hearing my parents talk about my Dyslexia. I was nine years old when the doctors diagnosed me with a learning disability.

“ Such a profile of Academic performance is not consistent with a language-based learning disability such as Dyslexia.”

Excerpt from the report from the Neuropsychology tests

“What the Hell?” I thought, To hear my parents tell it, I had all the symptoms. They reinforced the thought. They blamed Dyslexia for every setback and failure of my adult life.

Never mind the fact that other Dyslexics have productive lives, my Dyslexia was worse, or some crap like that

It was the theme of my life growing up, “ You were born with Dyslexia and Brain Damage.” I grew so frustrated with it. I told my dad once, when I was in my twenties, “Not everything is about Dyslexia, Sometimes I f_ up like everyone else.”

I have heard other people talk about Learning Disabilities. “ I never let Dyslexia define me.” Well, isn’t that special? It was beat into my psyche from the minute I started school.

Mom wasn’t forthcoming, she flat-out lied

Mom and Dad were holding out on me. One day out of frustration. I asked my mom, “The Doctors must have diagnosed something other than Dyslexia. Other Dyslexics are successful, why am I having so much trouble? What did the Doctors tell you?”

“ I don’t remember.” my mom answered without looking me in the eyes. The only time I caught her in a lie. I was in my thirties at the time. At this point, It doesn’t make any difference.

I ask myself, “What difference does it make?”

I try to put it in perspective If I had known the extent of the cognitive issues I was born with, would I have given up? What should I have done? All I wanted was to have gainful employment and a family of my own. I never achieved those goals.

The thought of giving up never entered my mind. I was driven to work hard to show others I wasn’t feeble-minded and lazy. I also wanted to prove it to myself.

If I had known the truth, would things been different?

If I knew the truth what would I have done differently? I don’t know, but I suspect the knowledge would have been a crutch. I learned to work hard and never quit. If I had been a quitter I would have ended up where the doctors said I should be, in an institution.

Hopes and dreams are powerful. Would I have accepted it if I knew for sure that I wouldn’t get to where I dreamed of being? would I have muddled through life waiting for death?

In the past, I looked back and wondered what might have been, but what if it was never meant to be, to begin with? I’m not stupid. I have a writing talent. I proved that I’m a good communicator, and my growing YouTube channel has established that.

Better late than never, I guess

Why did it take so long to figure this out? The plan is to not worry about the timing. I am grateful I discovered my writing talent and I’m grateful for Medium and Illumination. The Illumination Publication and the Medium Platform have given me an outlet.

The question was, “Did a Wrong Diagnosis of Dyslexia hold me back?” I’m not sure it did. I’m also not sure what path I could have chosen that would have led to a fulfilled life.

I knew deep down Dyslexia wasn’t the whole story

I was diagnosed with Dyslexia at a young age. As I grew older I had the nagging feeling that Dyslexia wasn’t the reason for my dysfunction. I found out years later that my feelings were correct.

Knowing the truth has no practical benefit. I’m on disability and will never get fired from a job again. The information has given me a certain amount of peace, but I can’t help feeling angry and bitter.

I have a lot of time now to do what makes me happy

I’m not proud of that, but I always try to be honest when I write. There is a bright side. I have more time to write and make videos. My content entertains and helps people. It took a lifetime, but I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.

My past has helped me be productive in the present and I provide value for people, so it’s all good.

Final Thought:

It’s hard to get out of the box life puts you in. Your hopes and dreams Life thwarts your dreams every chance it gets. Never lose hope. Keep trying to find your way and do what you can to be happy. If God wills it, you will get to where you’re supposed to be.

Mom and Dad Held Out on Me, but What Difference Does It Make?
Questions without answersmedium.com

Subscribe to get my stories in your inbox.

Mom and Dad Held Out on Me, but What Difference Does It Make?

Posted on by under Parents and Family

Questions without answers

Photo by cottonbro: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-wearing-brown-dress-shirt-6566823/

I honestly wanted to know

One day I was talking to my mom. It was before she passed away, so I was in my thirties. We were talking about my issues, the fact that I couldn’t keep a job until I started working as a security guard.

“ Come on mom, there are Dyslexics that are keeping jobs, why am I the only one that can’t?” It didn’t register then, but looking back, I know she was holding out on me.

She wouldn’t look me in the eyes, she never avoided eye-contact before

“ Surely the Doctors found other things wrong, there has to be something else going on.” I looked at mom silently pleading with her to tell me the truth.

“ They diagnosed something else, but I don’t remember what it was.” She wouldn’t look at me when she said it. At the time, I thought my mom was perfect it never occurred to me that she wouldn’t ever tell me the truth.

As one Vocational Rehab counselor told me, “ Dyslexia isn’t your problem.”

I had problems. Dyslexia was the obvious one. I found out years after mom and dad died, that the problems were more extensive than mom and dad let on.

I never could get out on my own. At first, it was because I couldn’t keep a job. I couldn’t learn what I needed to learn fast enough, or once I learned it, I was too slow.

Mom and dad were always insisting that I join these programs

I lost count of the Vocational Rehabilitation programs I completed. I would complete the programs with hope and new confidence, only to be knocked down again.

I was in my fifties; and homeless in Minneapolis. I had State Insurance, so I was able to receive care from a Psychotherapist. She arranged for me to get tested.

I was in my fifties when I found out the truth

After years of confusion and self-pity. I found out there are reasons that I have so much trouble. It also dawned on me that mom and dad knew the extent of the problems, but they wouldn’t tell me.

I underwent Neuro-Psychological testing. The testing was supposed to last a full day, but they stopped before noon. I was too stressed out. They were probably concerned that I would have another Stroke or a nervous breakdown.

Things make sense now

I was upset when I received the results, but I was also relieved. I’m still confused about why my parents didn’t tell me the full truth. I guess they did but in their own way.

Looking back, not a day went by, “ you’re Dyslexic, Lawson, and you were born with Brain Damage.” Mom and dad meant well. They loved me.

They were repeating what the Doctors told them in the early sixties. When I looked at the Brain-scans with the Doctor in Minneapolis, I learned the real diagnosis.

Not Brain-Damaged so much, but Brain-different

“ You’re brain is Interesting.” He said; as he pointed to the C-scan picture. He told me every way that my brain” is wired differently.” I’m not Brain-Damaged at all.

I have a High School Diploma, I have a few years of college. I was reading college level before I was in High School. I’m not Brain-Damaged, I’m different.

They meant well

Mom and dad tried to help me. I was always pushed into programs that they thought would help.

That stopped when mom died. Dad wanted me to be a security guard forever. He didn’t think I could do anything else. He damned sure didn’t believe for a minute that I could live on my own without help.

Obviously, my dad was correct

History shows that my dad was right. Eight years after he died, I was homeless.

I’m confused, and I don’t know what to think of any of this. If I had known the full truth, would it have made any difference? was I fated to be homeless for almost three years?

Would knowing have changed things?

I wonder if I would have been kinder to myself. More forgiving if I had known the truth all those years, years that I struggled to learn and keep a job?

None of this matters now. All the mental health and Learning Disabilities issues came to a head in Minneapolis. I’m on Disability now.

I no longer have to worry about it

I no longer have to worry about getting fired, and I don’t have to hear the whispers of co-workers. Co-workers who thought I was lazy and trying to get out of doing my job.

My life is good now. Every once in a while I think about what might have been. Every once in a while, I wish my parents were still alive so I could ask them questions.

Final Thought:

Worrying about the past is fruitless. Forgive your parents. They were human and did the best they could, and if the thoughts and memories get too much, write about them. You will feel so much better after you get it out of your system.

The Day I Learned Something new about Myself
And it wasn’t a surprisemedium.com

My Most Viewed Stories Since I Began Writing on Medium
The top eleven in my writing portfoliomedium.com

https://ko-fi.com/lawsonwallace54054

lawsonthewriter1@GMail.com

Memories of homelessness

Posted on by under Homelessness, Life changes

A Day at Transitional Housing, with Psychos for Neighbors

A time for healing

Photo by Ryan Conrow from Pexels

After months of no privacy, trying to sleep in a cavernous room with bunks inches from mine. After having to find a place to go before sun-up when the security goons threw us out into the street.

It was an upgrade

I thought I was in paradise four months later. The caseworkers found me a room at a transitional housing apartment. It was a small room with no running water, and having food or cooking in the room was not allowed.

The bed was a thin rubber mattress. It was on a wooden box. There was a small desk with the most uncomfortable plastic chair created. I was in paradise.

The neighbors were a trip

It was often hard to sleep at night. The guy living above me would wake up around the time I went to bed. He would turn on his TV as loud as possible.

I was the only man in the building who could close a door without slamming it. The restroom and showers were down the hall. The guy two-doors down from me had Parkinson’s Disease. His tremors and shakes were so bad. You couldn’t walk too close to him because he might hit you.

He had a reason for peeing all over the restroom floor, but the other guys were drunk or stoned.

Maybe it was a good thing the volume was too high

The guy right next door on one side loved to watch porn with the volume at full blast. One guy that lived down the hall would have heated arguments.

He would yell in his room for hours

I at first thought he had Internet access, and he was arguing with someone online. He was arguing with himself. There was no smoking allowed in the building. The smokers would be up and down all night. Slamming their doors as they headed downstairs to go outside to smoke.

Minneapolis is a neat city to walk around and explore

I would spend my days napping or writing in my room. If I was going stir-crazy, I would walk the skyways, or head to the library, or take the light rail to The Mall of America.

The shelter had a park for the residents. I spent the summer days in the park. I would drink with my neighbors and watch the pretty office workers as they walked by.

I would watch and listen to my neighbors. I discovered that no matter how bad my situation was, I was in a lot better shape than a lot of other people.

We talked for two years before we met in person

I had met a woman online. We had a plan to get me out of Minnesota and to get me to South Carolina to be with her. We talked all the time on the phone and online.

I had State Medical Insurance, Which was a good thing because I had some physical and mental health issues. The Hospital and Allergy Clinic was a short walk away.

I was coming back to myself

I had lost all my confidence and self-worth. The two years I spent at transitional housing did a lot to get me back to the man I was before I became homeless.

That time in my life will stick with me forever. I have regained the confidence I lost, but I still live in fear of becoming homeless again. I’m glad that God brought a good woman into my life.

I learned the hard way that I can’t do it alone. I’m so happy I have a wife with a good head for managing money. I listen to her because I never want to be homeless again.

Final Thought:

When things seem bad, hang in there and keep going forward. If you keep the faith and hope alive you will get through the dark times. Having someone who cares helps a lot as well.

Olivia Could Read My Mind, That Was Cool until I Got Busted

Posted on by under Dating and Relationships., Homelessness

You can’t get over on them, don’t try

Photo by ELEVATE: https://www.pexels.com/photo/four-women-sitting-on-benches-outside-building-1267708/

After spending three months upstairs at the shelter, in a room with ten other guys I got my room. I was living in a transitional housing facility.

I had my room, but there was no water in the room, and a fridge and stove were not allowed. The last summer I was there I started to get bored with being there.

You would say it was an error in judgment, and you would be right

I began hanging out in the park by the building. The shelter owned the park. It wasn’t long before I was drinking with my neighbors. I never had a drinking problem.

I had promised myself that I wouldn’t drink while I was on the street, but I let my guard down. I never got drunk. I never caused a problem.

I was feeling good and having fun

One evening, I went to the park. it was a nice night, and the tables and benches were full. There was a spot left at a table. I sat down at a table full of women.

I said, “ Hey,” they all said, “Hey,” then one of them passed me a can of soda. That contained a little soda and a lot of vodka. We were having a good time until Olivia called.

How did she know?

I don’t know how Olivia does it, but she can read my mind. She knows when I’m trying to get over, and I get busted every time. It’s like she smelled my breath through the phone.

We had a chilly, and short conversation. I went back to my room, and she called me back. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t so mad about the drinking.

I got chewed out, she was unhappy, for some reason

She was pissed because I was drinking with women. I apologized and said I would never do it again. I kept my word. I would have a drink with the guys, but I never sat and drank with the women after that night.

I shouldn’t have been drinking in the first place. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t drink while I was homeless. I had my own room, so I guess I became too comfortable.

Boredom and loneliness will get you in trouble

Anyway, I never sat and drank with women again. The only reason I did that night, was it was the only place to sit. I was also bored and lonely.

Olivia didn’t worry about me drinking with the guys, she didn’t approve, but she could deal with it. She wasn’t down with me drinking with the women.

Women have radar:

My advice is never to try to get something past the woman in your life. They know you better than you think, and you will get busted.

Lost in Minneapolis: Table of contents
lawsonwallace.medium.com

Illumination Book Chapters

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

The New Shelter

Lost in Minneapolis Chapter Three: Olivia Sends me a Cellphone

Photo by Michael Burrows from Pexels

On my last day at the shelter, I went downstairs and ate breakfast, then I went upstairs and packed. I sat and waited for the caseworker to come upstairs and take me to transitional housing.

It was an ugly building, but I didn’t care

My new home was an ugly eight-story building in downtown Minneapolis. I got my stuff out of the back of the caseworker’s car, I needed to get a cart to haul all my crap. I entered the building, there was a window just inside the entrance where a black woman sat at a desk.
 She introduced herself and led me to a table, we sat down and she pulled papers from a folder. I spent several minutes signing papers and listening as she laid down the rules.

There are always rules

With that done, I was given a tour of the building, then another resident lead me to the laundry area on my floor, all my clothes had to run through the dryer in a futile effort to kill the bedbugs.

It was the first time that I was alone in months

I spent the rest of the day in my room napping. There was no WIFI or running water and having food and cooking in the rooms was against the rules. I slept until near lunchtime, then I headed downstairs to the dining room.
 “The food is better here.” I thought as I ate my lunch. I finished eating and went back to my room. That first night alone in my room, I couldn’t sleep. The sores from the bedbug bites I sustained at the other shelter were itching and driving me nuts.

Too excited to sleep, or it was probably the long nap

The bedbugs and excitement about being in a new place kept me awake most of the night.
“The food is better.” I thought as I ate lunch. During the week, there was a cold breakfast, a choice of cereal or toast, and bagels. Lunch and dinner were hot meals, but there was a hot breakfast on weekends.

I spent a lot of time in the computer room

I ate breakfast, then I decided to check out the computer room. I had to sign in and give the employee at the desk my driver’s license, then she led me to the computer room and logged me into a computer.
 
Several computers were in use, folks streaming videos, or on Facebook. I checked my email, then I logged on to Facebook and talked to Olivia for an hour or so. I was still beat down from the shelter, but I needed to get out and explore the area and get things done.

I got out and explored Minneapolis

The third day, I felt a lot better, I found out where the transit office was, I bought a bus pass, I then headed back to the post office to check my mail. Olivia sent me a DVD. I watched the movie and went to bed early.
 My room was small, with no running water and an awful bed, but it did have a small desk and the most uncomfortable chair on earth, made from plastic. I didn’t care, I wrote almost every day.

I worked on the novel I will never finish

The next day, I met with a caseworker and a nurse to discuss my medications and my health. I spent the rest of the day on Facebook and in my room writing.
 After about five days, people started to introduce themselves and the seeds of friendships were planted.

The Staff took care of me

My caseworker arranged for the shelter to buy me some much-needed glasses. I started to get out and explore the area. I quickly fell in love with downtown Minneapolis.
The shelter was close to the library, and a Barnes and Noble’s was closer still. My book collection grew. Everything was great, but not having a phone was a pain in the ass.

We had never met in person, but she sent me a phone

“How would you like me to send you a phone?” Olivia asked me one day. I wasn’t surprised, she had been sending me money for months. I told her having a phone would be awesome.
 I walked across town to the post office by the other shelter to get it. I walked back to the shelter and spent the rest of the day syncing music, I loved that phone. I spent the next few days going from WIFI hotspot to WIFI hotspot downloading free music and posting on social media.

My first case manager was useless

I was assigned a case manager, I was supposed to see him forty-eight hours after I moved into the shelter. I think I met him a month later. I discovered quickly how big a piece of shit he was, but he was worse than I knew.
 My case manager did the little things to pad his reports, He first took me to get a replacement for my worn and tattered Social Security card, the next day he took me to the DMV to get my State Identification card.
 The people at the DMV wanted to see my Birth Certificate, but I didn’t have it with me. Kenny took me back a week later after I found the Birth Certificate in my overnight bag.

The Skyways fascinated me

When the Caseworker left me alone, I spent my days either in my room or exploring the Skyways. I would also take a short walk to the library. The library was fun to go to. It was a better experience being there and not having to worry about dozing off.
 We received our General Assistance money on the first. Most of my neighbors spent their money on booze and drugs. The Park next to the shelter would be a party zone for a few days, then it would die down as the money ran out.
 
I would get necessities, snacks, laundry detergent, and clothing. I always had money left over. I also spent a lot of time at the Book store. I always managed to stop by the coffee shop and buy a Mocha or Latte.

Two years after we starting talking, we finally met

Time went by, Olivia and I had been talking for two years. One day Olivia called me, “Hey babe, how would you like for me to come to Minneapolis for a few days?” The smile I had when I heard those words damned near split my skull in half.
 We talked some more, then we both got busy. I couldn’t just leave the shelter for the weekend. I had to get a pass from my case manager, while Olivia booked a hotel room.
 I was so excited; I was ready to explode. The funny thing was, I wasn’t nervous at all. I packed my overnight bag the night before I left. The next morning, I walked the few blocks to the light-rail station heading to the Airport.

The Next Chapter:

We finally meet in person.

Life after Minneapolis

Lawson lives in South Carolina with his wife Olivia. It has been four years since he left Minneapolis. His life is a lot better now.

The Room Upstairs and a Big Mistake

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

Lost in Minneapolis Chapter two: She forgave me for being an Idiot

Photo by MART PRODUCTION from Pexels

My name’s Lawson Wallace. I live in South Carolina with my wife Olivia. My wife has been after me to write a book about when I was homeless and how we met. I decided to publish the book here on Illumination Book Chapters.

The story is true as best as I can remember it. Some things though were blocked out. I have included background from when I was younger for context.

In this chapter: I get a bed upstairs and Olivia and I get to know each other

The Room upstairs

At the time, I had an iPhone. The carrier had discontinued service because they wanted me to pay my bill for some reason. There was a payphone on the floor; Olivia had texted me her cellphone number; one afternoon, I called her.

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I stopped in front of the phone and picked up the receiver, and started dropping quarters into the slot. We talked until I ran out of quarters.

WIFI is a beautiful thing

“Wait a minute.” I was sitting on the bunk and in front of my laptop; when Olivia messaged me. “You have an iPhone, and you have WIFI, right?” I confirmed that I did have both of those.

“We can talk on our phones over WIFI.” I shook my head and smiled ruefully. I gave her my number, and she called me.

Why didn’t I think of that?

Once we started talking, we talked all the time. The only problem I had was finding an outlet to keep my phone charged. After a few weeks of talking on the phone, Olivia started sending me money.

Olivia was concerned about me

I was supposed to be receiving GA and food stamps, but somehow that didn’t happen. Olivia was concerned, that’s why she started sending me money that somehow rarely made it past the shelter mailbox.

“There’s a post office around the block from the shelter,” I told her one day. She asked me for the address and phone number. She wanted to know how much a post office box cost.

I soon had a post box to receive money and whatever else she wanted to send me. I sent her a picture, and she decided I needed a haircut. This led to an embarrassing incident, or as I like to call a bone-head move.

For a smart guy, I do incredibly dumb things

I was staying with these people, it was an uncomfortable situation, so I stayed in the basement as much as possible. I spent a lot of time on my laptop. It was around this time that someone had hacked some celebrity computers.

Thousands of hours of sex videos and nude pictures of these celebrities were online for the world to see. I couldn’t resist the chance to see Kate Upton and other attractive stars naked.

I was proud of my first haircut in months

What I didn’t realize was, the MacBook saved all those pictures to my hard drive. While I was upstairs, Olivia sent me the money to get a haircut. One of my roommates took me to a haircutting place in Nicollet Mall.

I heard about the skyway, but I never thought about exploring it. My roommate led me through it to the mall. The skyway is an interlinked closed pedestrian footbridge that connects nine and a half miles of Downtown Minneapolis.

To say that Olivia was pissed is an understatement

I got my haircut and excitedly headed back to the shelter, I wanted to show Olivia my new haircut. I sat on the bed and powered up the MacBook and used the camera and took a selfie, then I sent a photo.

I realized a second too late, that I sent the nude photo of Kate Upton. “Fuck, Shit, no, no,” I repeated aloud as I frantically pounded on the keys of the MacBook. It was no use. I waited with my blood pressure escalating for the call that came seconds later.

She forgave me, Thank God

“I’m so sorry Olivia, please, I’m so sorry.” I waited for her response, silently pleading that she wouldn’t dump me. She started to talk, she was calm, but her voice could have frozen the Lake of Fire.

“I don’t know why you sent that to me, but I forgive you.” I calmed down a bit, but I wondered what she would say next. “Forget about it.” She said, her voice thawing a little.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She said. We talked a few more minutes, when we finished the call, I went through the MacBook and deleted everything that was remotely objectionable.

We laugh about it now

We still talk about the picture incident, but she doesn’t find it as funny as I do now. At the time it wasn’t funny at all. There were other incidents where we had words, but the picture incident was the worst.

The Housing people found me a place to live

I spent Christmas and New Year’s upstairs, I didn’t know it at the time, but the next stage of my life as a homeless person was about to begin.

The housing Lady had sent me to three or four places to see if they would accept me, the last place she sent me accepted my application.

My Shyness in High School Led To One of My Greatest Regrets

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

High school wasn’t fun at all

It was a weekend night at Yokota Air Force Base in Fussa, Japan. Like a lot of high school kids, I went to the Base Theatre to see a movie. I purchased my ticket and turned to get in line. That’s when I saw her.

Her name was Esther. Like me, she was overweight. She was different from me in that she never seemed to have a problem getting a date.

We got along great. What was my problem?

We often talked and flirted when we saw each other in the smoking area at school. I was obtuse and stunted, I never dated, and I was mostly interested in beer and cigarettes but I was obsessed like all teenage boys with girls, I felt the chemistry, but I was too chicken to do anything about it. Things heated up when Esther got a job bussing tables at the Non-Commissioned Officers Club where I was a dishwasher.

We would laugh and tease each other having a good time on the job. I had strong feelings for her and it was obvious she was digging me as well.

What was I afraid of? I have no clue

I saw Esther as she walked to the ticket window alone. A few yards separated us. I went inside the theatre and took a seat. I saw Esther sit down on the other side of the theatre.

“ Get off your ass Lawson,” I screamed to myself. I don’t know what my problem was. I was a senior in high school and I never dated. I was insecure about my weight and my learning disabilities. Girls obsessed me.

I was too scared to get off my ass to go sit with her

I didn’t have the confidence to do anything about it. I sat rooted in the seat damned near having a stroke or a heart attack as my inner coward won the war.

I enjoyed the movie and went straight home alone afterward. I put it behind me. I somehow forgot about losing the inner war. I saw Esther a few nights later at work.

Esther was not happy at all, and she made that clear

She brought a tray of dishes back and slammed them on the counter, throwing the silverware down the shoot where a tub of water was waiting.

She went back to the dining room before I could talk to her. When I had the chance I completed the loop of cluelessness by asking Esther if she enjoyed the movie.

I asked if she enjoyed the movie, really?

She slammed the tray she was carrying down on the counter. “I thought it sucked,” she snapped. She looked me in the eyes and took a breath. “You know, guys are supposed to make the first move.”

She turned around and stormed off. I turned around and kicked something and turned the air blue with my curses. I didn’t have the confidence or sense enough to salvage the situation.

She got her revenge years later

Esther and I never got together. That would have been the end of the story if it wasn’t for Facebook. They say that revenge is best served cold. I got what was coming to me.

Thirty-something years later, I got a message on Facebook from my brother. He had graduated from high school a year early and went on to get two bachelor’s degrees.

My family loved Japan, and my brother was able to go back

He and his family were living in Japan at the time. My brother told me that Esther was on Facebook. I sent her a friend request. “ Do I know you?” she asked.

I told her that we knew each other in Yokota, Japan. She said she didn’t remember me and she didn’t accept my friend request. I have to admit I was disappointed.

The disappointment was tempered by my sense of humor and philosophic attitude. “ I had it coming.” I thought to myself. I never thought of Esther again.

I was a late starter, but I made up for lost time

The funny thing? The shyness and insecurity didn’t leave until I was living alone for the first time in my life. I was in my fifties. “ This is bullshit,” I told myself.

I was working the midnight shift as a security guard in Florida. I started answering personal ads. I was meeting people and going on dates.

I thought more than once, “I wish my confidence was this high when I was in high school.” I have many regrets in my life. I regret accepting the labels that my family and teachers gave me.

I have made mistakes, and I have let myself down

I regret not studying as hard as I should have in high school. I regret a lot of things. I’m sixty-three years old, and I still am upset with myself because Esther waited for me to make the first move.

I didn’t make the first move and that hurt her. I will always feel bad about that. I’m married now, and it’s a good marriage. I met the woman I married on Facebook.

Esther would get a kick out of it, but she doesn’t remember me at all

The Esther I remember would laugh her ass off knowing she lived in my head for years. I hope she found a good man. I hope she has had and continues to have, a good life.

I will close this story with some heartfelt advice. Watch what you tell yourself. You’re not as fat, dumb, and undesirable as you think you are.

Talk to her, ask her out, because life is too short for regrets

If you enjoy being around her, talk to her. I promise she will not bite. If you can talk to her around other people you can talk to her on a date.

If your heart tells you to approach her, for God’s sake get off your ass and do it. Life is too long to live with regrets. I let my insecurities and low self-esteem rule my life and it didn’t have to be that way.

Final Thought:

The teenage years can be terrible. I had struggles with self-esteem because of my weight. I also had horrible acne and I was in Special Ed because of learning disabilities.

I could have overcome those if I had watched the words I told myself.

Love who you are. Get out and meet people. Talk to her because she’s waiting for you to make the first move.

Live a life with no regrets.