Glowa do gury! I naprzud.

My world had crumbled before my father spoke. The day I had experienced included typical numb-crushing events. The loss of a job and a friend. Both were not exactly dream material, but having them meant a lot. For others, it might be another day and things eventually will fix themselves, but for me it’s intense. It felt heavy due to autistic traits.

“It should not impact you. It does not define you. You are just overreacting.”

I don’t know whether to blame myself or everyone who says that. The past weighs on me—over analyzing every action, word, and thought. It is like a puzzle: endlessly frustrating, always missing pieces. I need answers to calm my confusion, and to make sense of my literal thoughts. My head aches. Is it me?

When that friendship ended, I questioned what I had done wrong. I always emphasize, no matter what, how important it is to be blunt with me and other autistics—even if it means facing that sad puppy look that feels like it's reaching into your soul when you deliver bad news. At the end of the day, for me at least, I learned something that can impact my life. Even if it takes time to learn from my mistakes. They told me I should have known what I did wrong. I did not. I felt horrible.

Being open to learning is healthy right? People act like it is something to be ashamed of.

Some time passed, and I lost a job within the same small time frame. The impact of the friendship and other tough situations crumbled. Friends may come and go, but a career setback feels more devastating. If only the events could have switched places. At least there would have been a hand to hold. Alone in a city that I do not know.

Alone. Not far from the busy parts, but the ability to see more stars makes it more terrifying. A bright light from the little handheld illuminates the room. I shift over, drenched in tears a small smirk peers out of me. One notification from Taturz: Żaba, Gabi are you doing ok? He knows, despite not knowing anything. I call, and his voice calms me. It’s the usual banter, except this time he mentions I am my babcia. Not like her, but her. She lives through me. He speaks of her resilience and can see that I have that trait. It will just take time, and never forget to hold your head high and go forward. That is just the rough translation she would tell my father growing up.

Her advice glistens as wallpaper now on my phone, in honor of her and her empowerment:

Glowa do gury! I naprzud.