Supernatural Convention Turns Supernatural

In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong

Today was supposed to be great. Well, as great as one with a bunch of mental shit going on in their brain could be. I have a list of mental shit, which includes and is not limited to: autism, borderline personality disorder, bipolar, and anxiety, not to mention the absolute horrid self esteem and confidence issues. All in all, it's hell. But not today.

Today, there was a Supernatural convention that I worked my ass off to get to. Supernatural Convention of 2024, and the show, which is my saving grace, has been over for three years. Which, if I'm really thinking about it, is so weird because it feels like it has only been going on for, at most, 7 years. I didn't watch it when it first came out, so maybe it only has been 7 years since I first found it.

I'm supposed to meet Rob Benedict, Richard Speight JR, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, etc etc. The only thing I've thought about for the past two years was meeting the people who have kept me sane. Although, with the anxiety and social issues I have, how I will ever actually say a word, I don't know.

My phone starts ringing, abrupt and loud, making me jump. "Odessa's phone. Who's this?" I answer, not having seen a caller ID, so I announced my name. It turned out to be a spam call, which is the most annoying thing ever. Sighing, I get ready to leave for the airport. I have to leave my home in Michigan to travel to Indianapolis.

Traveling is not my favorite thing. Once I'm on the plane, I have absolutely no way to really stop my brain from going a million miles per hour, so I grabbed my anxiety meds out of my backpack and took two tablets to calm me down and allow me to fall asleep.

After taking the medicine, I rested my head against the side of the plane and closed my eyes, trying to relax and take deep, calming breathes. Eventually, I drift off, sleep overtaking my head and body.

Startling awake as the captain announces over the speaker that we're about to start our descent, I store my things back in my bag and collect my thoughts, trying again to control my anxiety and emotions. It isn't working very well, as my breathing quickens and I desperately want to get off of this plane, away from others, and into my room at the hotel so I can really think about what I want to say and how I need to act around these people.

The plane finally lands, and I get out of that wretched place as soon as I can. I hurry to the hotel, quickly sending a text to my acquaintance from work that I've made it safely. I drop my bags in the room I'm staying in and grab a notebook and pens from my bag to plan everything that's going to happen this weekend.

I write in colors, the pens organized by how they are in the rainbow. Every sentence or separate topic is in a different color and everything is super organized and specific. For example, when I meet Rob, Richard, and Matt for a photo op, I want to kind of be sandwiched between Rob and Richard and have Matt somewhat behind me, but more like half behind Richard or Rob and half behind me.

I want to quickly tell them that they have kept me sane from the thoughts that run rampant in my head. That, without the show, their music, and the videos of other conventions I've seen on YouTube, I would never have survived my mind.

For Misha, Jensen, and Jared, I want to have Jared hold his hand out towards Misha like he was exorcising a demon from him, and have Jensen and me looking at them from in the background in surprise. I want to tell them that they have inspired me to stay strong even though it's so hard.

I even plan what I want to wear, which is my normal every day stuff. I didn't want to do anything special, like cosplay or anything like that. So I just throw together some ripped skinny jeans and a nice shirt, paired with my combat boots and my necklace that my grandma gave me before she died. It was a vintage pendant with a rose on it.