How a Typing Teacher Inspired My Life Transformation

I know that I’ve talked about my High School typing teacher in at least a few of my blogs. I’ll also tell you that she’s in my book that I’m currently working on right now. The reason for this, she was instrumental in helping me see that it was possible to turn my life around. I felt as though she could see through me at times and wanted desperately to confess all of my sins to her. (Spoiler alert-I never did). Let me explain this further.

When I decided to sign up for typing class in High School, I never had any desire to become some kind of great typist, nor did I really care what the outcome would be from the class. It was a time filler for me to just get by. At that point in my life, I was deeply embedded in the underworld and had far greater things to be worrying about than my classes. I was dealing with people who were much harsher about failure, so I adjusted my attitude accordingly. I started in the class and dropped myself directly in the very back seat. It was close to the door which gave me the ability to slide out quickly. When I began the class, I never gave a second thought as to what kind of teacher I would be facing, or what she might think of me. This was just where I was mentally at the time.

Ms. Joan Osborn stepped into the room and you could hear her heels clicking on the old wooden floor as she walked. She walked with purpose and had a way about her. Fearless and confident, some might see her as intimidating. To me, she was just another teacher in a long line of teachers that I’d run into over the years growing up. She put her name on the chalkboard and stated that she would be addressed as Ms. Osborn, nothing else. She laid out what the class was about and what she expected. She then stated she would be teaching us all about the typewriter, the home row, and then start doing drills to see what our abilities were. Ms. Osborn had a toughness to her, an edge if you will. It was something that captured my attention. I listened to what she had to say and found myself beginning to think that I just might be interested in this class.

As time progressed, Ms. Osborn seemed to sense something about me and decided that I needed to be placed directly in front of her desk, in the very front row. I’d done some drills and showed promise, along with speed on the keyboard. She had kind of a sly smirk when she moved me and stated that she wanted to make sure I was paying attention and getting the directions that she was giving. I’m certain that I came off as uncaring or a bit of a slacker when I first arrived in her class, but that quickly changed. I soon found myself being one of the fastest typists. More importantly, I found that I was enjoying what I was doing. Who would ever think that some punk drug runner would be excited to be typing.

I cruised through her class and did so with good grades. She had kept her eye on my progress and had me stay around after class at the end of the year. She told me about a program that she felt I’d benefit from. A business block of classes that would further my abilities. I hadn’t taken the required business block classes prior to this, but she stated that my typing abilities were good enough that she’d be willing to vouch for me and assist me to get into these block classes. I found myself agreeing to go through the process and get into these classes. She was true to her word and did vouch for me. I was able to get into this block class which furthered my desire for a new way of life.

I think that it’s safe to say that Ms. Osborn came into my life at a key moment. Was this another divine intervention? She became a key reason that I chose a different path going forward. I would go so far as to say that she may have saved my life. I was headed down a road that most certainly would’ve ended in destruction. I didn’t care if I lived or died. To have someone who noticed me, saw me for something more than what I saw in myself was an amazing moment. She spoke to me in a way that I started to believe that I could have a life outside of what I was doing. I began to believe that I could have a future and live past 30 years of age. I now had visions of being something more. This in turn made me more defiant towards those who would hold me back and use me. The power of a teacher, the power of a person taking time out of their own life to lift another person up. I wanted so much to tell her what my real life had been like, to confess all my terrible things, because for some reason, I felt like she’d understand and would reassure me that I’d be alright.

I’ve thought about Ms. Osborn throughout my life. I always wanted to go back and see her to let her know what she meant to me and how she’d made such a difference in my life. All the things that she taught me and told me about life turned out as she stated. She’d told me that my typing abilities would be something that I could use throughout my life and that I was good enough that I’d never want for work. She was right! Typing has served me very well. I sit here now typing these blogs because of her. I’ve not only survived, but thrived in my workplace because of my typing abilities, just as she said I would.

I decided to do more google searches to see if she was still around. I’d looked a couple of times but never really found anything solid. I attempted again recently and found that when she married, she’d hyphenated the two names. This threw off the original search I’d done earlier on. Once I found out this detail, I searched with the hyphenated last name and got a hit! I then “typed” up a letter to Ms. Osborn and sent it off. I explained who I was and that she may not even remember me, but if she was interested, I wanted to meet and let her know just how important of a person she’d been in my life. I will tell you that as of yesterday, I received a card from her and she gave me her number so that we can make a plan to have lunch and chat. I’m more than excited about this and feel that It’s way overdue for me to tell her in person everything that I’ve shared here. She needs to know that her time with me not only changed me but saved me. My road was still tough, and I’ve struggled with the demons from all the years in the underworld, but she gave me the hope, or shall we say “set the fire” that I needed to change.

I’ll report back after I set up our meeting so that I can tell you how everything went. Even if it’s a quick lunch, I’ll find satisfaction in all of it because I was given the opportunity to thank someone who truly deserves to be thanked. This is a moment for me to sit with one of my real-life heroes. Thank you, Ms. Osborn, for caring, and for seeing something in a poor kid from the East Side. I’m forever grateful.

Thank you all so much for following along on my journey.

~Robert~

Mirror Mirror…

Mirror mirror on the wall. I’m betting that takes all of you to a Disney moment in your life – me too. It also makes me look within myself. I touched on the fact a few blogs ago that I have a hard time looking at myself in a mirror. The reflection that I’ve seen over the years doesn’t match up to what I feel inside. It’s as though I’m looking at a face I don’t recognize just looking back at me. Creepy, right? Exactly why I avoid mirrors. What is it that you see when you look into the mirror? Is it simply your face, or is there more? Mirrors and reflections are something that I think about, write about and even have dreams about. There must be something more to it. What secrets are held within this sacred piece of glass? Shall we?

The mirror is normally just a common household item that is used for our vanity purposes. Fixing hair, applying make-up, checking skin, all of the things that humans do. Depending on the lighting, a mirror can give you a different perspective of a room. Some place large mirrors on walls in order to make smaller places look bigger. An illusion of sorts. I look at the mirror as an illusionist as well. I have, in the past, taken a good hard look in the mirror to see what it is that others see. Do they see the reflection as I see it, or do they see a different version?

The mirror has not always been this unpleasant of a thing to me. There was a time when I was good with the person that I was seeing. Probably because I lacked feelings for the world and it was nothing more than my face. The eyes were darker then and carried a heavy weight. It was not until “the night” that everything changed for me. I’d gone to bed as normal and literally woke up the next day with feelings! You could call it a divine intervention (the action by God -or god – of getting involved in a human situation in order to change it.) Being that I’ve never been a very spiritual person, that seemed odd, and given the life that I’d been leading, I struggled even more to make sense of it. If God had taken a moment to come to me in my sleep and change everything about who and what I was, there had to be a reason.

The morning after this all transpired, I took a look in the mirror. I was terrified. Who was this that I was looking at? It was like everything had changed. I felt different, I had empathy, I hurt for the things that I’d been doing and felt the desire to make amends to those that I still could reach. I know you’re thinking, if things were turning for the better, why be terrified? What I saw was not a good person. I still saw rage, anger, deceit, and darkness. It was as though a monster (Zombie) was looking back at me. I jumped back away from the mirror and decided that I had to change the reflection.

I felt off that entire day, and I knew that I still had to “take care of business.” How would I be able to do that now when everything had changed? I couldn’t go through the same things as before with feelings. This could easily end my “career.” I became paranoid that others who surrounded me knew and could feel that I’d changed. My God, if I can’t hide this, I’ll die for sure. How did this happen? I went back to the mirror that evening and looked again. I found myself asking the mirror, what is it that you are showing me? What do I need to do? There was no answer as you may have suspected. There was my face, and those dark eyes staring back at me.

There is much more that went on from this point, but I’m not able to share it. Perhaps one day, but I’d say doubtful. Some things about me just need to remain a mystery. I’ve remained scared to use the mirror for anything more than shaving, and I don’t even do that on a daily basis in order to cut down on the amount of times I look at it. I work out at a gym that is covered with mirrors, but I’ve learned to focus on my body parts and never look at my face. It may seem extreme to most of you, but there are demons in there for me. There may be demons in the mirrors for some of you as well. Look hard and tell me what you see.

I think that the mirror is my own way of reflecting on myself. Even without seeing the physical form, it’s as though I see the spirit. Self evaluation is, or at least can be, extremely hard. We are our own worst critics, but we also harbor secrets. When you look at the mirror, do you see the secrets that are stored away?

This was one that I felt was going to be tough to write and it is. It opens up more of what travels through the mind of a person who has trauma and gives light to those things. It leaves me vulnerable to judgment. Judgment of my own mental stability. I’m alright with that if it gets things out of my head, and gets others to take a look into themselves. I know there are others out there who feel the same way. Some may hate the reflection for physical reasons. The reflection can cause problems for those who suffer from eating disorders, or other disorders such as body dysmorphia (a mental health disorder that leads to extreme distress over your appearance.) So, when I tell you that there can be demons in the reflection, it’s real. Look into the mirror…tell me what you see.

I chose this title based on music yet again. A band from the 80’s – Def Leppard. I’ll add the lyrics below because they too make some sense of what I see when I look in a mirror. The power of the mirror, the all knowing, all seeing reflections. It’s eerie and mysterious. Stop for a minute and gaze into the mirror, tell me what you see.

Until we meet again…

~Robert~

Mirror, mirror
Just watching with your eye of glass
You’re just a fortune wheel
With something that I wanna ask

Mirror, mirror
Got my fate lying in your hands
You’re the fool, you’re the juggler
Hangman and lover,
 you’re not like no other

[Chorus]
(Take a look into my eyes) Tell me what you see
(Take a look into my eyes) Tell me is it true?
(Take a look into my eyes) Oh, when I look at you
(Take a look into my eyes) Tell me is it me?
Is it really me?

[Verse 2]
Mirror, mirror
Gotta know just what you see
My crystal ball
You’re looking so sly and so sleazy

From Darkness to Light: Overcoming Internal Struggles

Being that we’re in the month of October, and everyone is prepping for their scary season. I thought I’d ask, what scares you? I mean what is so unsettling to you that it feels as though it grabs your soul? I have phobias for sure. I’m unsettled by tight spaces, heights, and even basements. (Thanks to my sisters) When we lived in our house on Nevada, it had a pretty good sized basement. A set of stairs that went down and stopped midway where there was a small landing and a side door to the home. The stairs then continued on into the basement. There was a main room, and then split off from that were a couple more rooms. One had the washer and dryer, there was a shower room in the corner of that and then there was another smaller room that was off of that. Of course the usual furnace, water heater and such were down there. To most, it would appear to be pretty normal stuff. The space under the stairs was always creepy to me and I didn’t care for it. My sisters knew about this, and one day decided to run up the stairs together and lock the basement door. From there they began telling me all of the creatures that were underneath the stairs that were going to come out and get me. Once I was finally let out, I screamed all the way to the living room where I attempted to get under the sofa. I was absolutely petrified. Needless to say, nightmares ensued. I’ve never been a fan of a basement to this very day! I’m in my 50’s now and still look over my shoulder when walking up the basement stairs. In the back of my mind, the kid from so many years ago is still in there and he’s still terrified. It never goes away.

When it comes to people, there are literally a handful that have scared me in my life. A couple of the darkest moments will probably soon be revealed in counseling. The last session really dug into something. Amy said that it’s the first time that I showed fear. I felt it when we were talking. It took me to a place that made me want to scream like that kid running from the basement. I wanted to dig my way underneath a sofa in the worst way and never be found. The very idea of facing your fears can be trauma in itself. Staring at something that you really don’t want to. I’ll ask you to think about that for a second. Is there an event in your life that makes you feel this way? Something that makes you feel like a kid that wants to hide underneath something in order to make the feelings stop? Hold onto that for a moment.

I’ve found while doing these blogs that there are others that have fears, and have lived through events that haunt them to this day. While I tell the story about the basement, it’s just to give you perspective. Everyone has been scared by something like that as a child. While I still have my feelings about basements, I walk up and down in mine all of the time. My biggest fear in my life is facing my own thoughts. Yep, it’s true. That’s where all of the blackest things reside. Events that I thought I put to bed years ago, loss of persons in my life, hunger, struggle, all of it’s there. Let’s go back to the words of my sponsor, “stay out of your head, it’s a bad neighborhood.” Yes, it’s a bad neighborhood. The question is, do I want to leave it as such, or do I want to try to turn it around?

Here’s a free piece of advice for anyone that suffers from darkness. It doesn’t go away on it’s own. You can’t bury it, you can’t will it away, it needs to come out from whatever basement that you’ve left it in. Once you dig it out, face it head on. Will it be scary, hell yes! I know that the next time I go to see Amy we’ll be doing just that. The reason why I will follow through with this is because I want to feel better, I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to have the darkness reside in my head and fester. If left unchecked, it only manifest into much uglier things. This I promise you.

You may have noticed on my last blog entry that I used my given name “Robert”. This is something that was also discussed with Amy. You see, Zombie it’s been decided is the darker side of Robert. While I’ve held onto the title and used it many times, and even in a fun way. It’s almost like it’s an alter ego. Zombie is who holds the secrets. The fears, the things that scare me. The eyes of Zombie have seen much and we believe that it’s time for me to step away from that. I won’t be changing my blog name, as it’s still fitting for what I do and what I write about. The Zombie File is the files of the many things that have been witnessed, both good and bad. I’ll continue to step back into those times, gently, because there are still stories that need to be told. With each blog entry I feel relief. So, I’ll just keep doing this until there’s nothing left to say.

Tonight, while I’m asking you to visit the darkness, I’m also letting you know that there’s hope. (I know Amy, here’s the sprinkles–inside joke). Ask yourself what scares you and think about visiting those spaces. I don’t want you to do it alone, but I’d ask that you work towards that. If we clear out the ugliness, then perhaps we can enjoy the darkness the way it should be. “Without darkness you can’t see stars”.

I’ll be taking my steps in a little over a week, and facing what broke me. What made tears come to my eyes, tightness to my throat, shaking of my hands. That’s the level of scared that I feel. I know that with the help of Amy, I will no longer want to run and hide under that sofa. I won’t have to be scared anymore.

Thanks for reading

~Robert~