I had always been an awkward kid. Pretty lonely, too. Anger issues weren't uncommon in my family, and neither was depression. Maybe that was why nobody wondered if something was wrong for so long.
Living in a small room with two other siblings, high tempers were normal. Things I complained about were just due to the small space. I often complained of things that probably seemed inconsequential. The AC is too loud, the room is too bright, the carpet is too scratchy. Things like that. Now, I know they were probably just from sensory overload. Eventually, when I was about 11, me and my siblings were removed from our parents care for just about a week because of some safety issues in the home (Nothing violent or anything, the house just wasn't in 'safe' condition. The place was old. Floors started to cave, things like that. A little house work and we were right back home.) We stayed at the home of a family friend. I…didn't take it well. I didn't really know the person well, she was a friend of my moms. That was bad enough but then on top of that, I had a pretty big breakdown about wanting to go home because I didn't like it and I didn't want to stay there and a ton of other stuff. It got to the point where I was throwing things and hitting and kicking my parents and they had to call the police to come and restrain me before someone got seriously hurt.
That summer, I went to a stayaway summer camp. Another camper, older then me, was in my way. I told them to move. She said, "Bite me." I didn't realize she was being sarcastic. I bit her. She moved (though, she was screaming). I went about my way. Later that day, I was pulled aside by the camp security and told that the girl had to go to the Nurse Station because I had drawn blood when I bit her. I was warned that I would be thrown out of camp if I stepped a toe out of line. I didn't, at that point, understand why. She had told me to bite her. Why was I in trouble for that? With the guard yelling and already being stressed and confused about being in a new place with a strange schedule, I broke down, sobbing. Later, in my cabin, the same camper I had bitten accused me of stealing her ring. I had been with the camp security though, and I had never done that. But, when they searched my bunk, her ring was sitting under my pillow. Since I had been with security, they gave me the benefit of the doubt, but I was watched very closely after that. I heard the girl telling her friend that she was mad the planted ring wasn't enough to get me kicked out. After all that, I never went to another camp.
When I was 12, I was hospitalized for 'suicidal idealization' aka I tried to kill myself.
I was in the psych ward for about a week. The first day or two, I was okay. The nurses and staff were nice and they helped me out. They also had me on a medication, Risperidone. It made it very difficult for me to stay awake and moving, much less cause any fuss. A lot of the other patients wondered why I was even there, since I was (to their eyes) pretty well behaved and adjusted. On the third day, they tried to change me to a new medicine since I was having trouble keep my eyes open. They switched me to wellbutrin. I had a meeting with a social worker (because, as a minor, they had to make sure the home was safe.) Well, that day, I was awake and aware. I remember that I had some dull little golf pencils that the patients were allowed to have in my hoodie pocket. I was fidgeting, listening to the pencils in my pocket and not really paying attention to the social worker. She didn't like that. She insisted that I give the pencils to her. I ignored her. She yelled at me to put the pencils on the table or she would get a nurse and make me. I lost it. I started screaming and throwing a fit and she had two nurses come and restrain me, take the pencils, and then I was locked in my room in solitary for almost 2 days. Meals were brought to me and I was watched while I ate. A nicer nurse, named Lauren, explained that they were waiting to see if my aggression was the result of the new medication. After two days of mostly bored sitting, I was released from my room back into general population. They watched me for 2 more days before deciding, a week after I was admitted, to release me on stipulation that I started seeing on of their approved therapists.
I started to see a therapist once a week and a psychiatrist bi-weekly. We talked about a lot of things. About me being asexual and not fitting in, having trouble knowing when people are being sarcastic or serious. Things like that. And about a month after I started seeing my therapist, she suggested I get tested for Asperger. My mother begged her not to do any kind of testing in that vein because she was afraid that it would make my life even more difficult. My school wasn't great at dealing with special needs kids and I was in advanced classes for science and history that she feared I would be removed from. Eventually, my therapist agreed not to formally do any testing or diagnosis of anything on the autism scale as long as I kept taking my new medication, Zoloft and Abilify. On paper, this was just to treat my anxiety and depression (which, to be fair, I did have), but she told me in private that the abilify was to give me a chance if, in fact, I did have aspergers like she suspected. In my solo sessions, she did her best to give me ways to cope and helped me deal with some of my other issues. I stayed with that therapist until I turned 16 and she thought I had the skills to, if not be perfectly normal, to at least blend in. (Though, when I was 15, there was a situation in my tech. class. The tapping and typing and clicking in a bright classroom was too much and I ended up hidden under a desk with my jacket over my head with my fingers in my ears until that class ended. The desks were the kind that had your legs hidden. I don't know what theyre called, but the kind FDR had so you couldn't see underneath? Obviously, not quite like that. But with 3 sides, is what I mean. Sorry, that probably doesn't make sense. Either way, the teacher, thankfully, had too many students to notice I wasn't in my seat.)
Now, before anyone thinks differently, I love my mother and I understand why she thought how she did. But all through my childhood, I was different. I never quite fit in. I was always out of the joke. Things I thought were funny, other people didn't. I didn't understand how people worked. I've always wondered whether or not, if I took a test, I would be diagnosed as an aspie or maybe im just stupid. I dont know. As an adult now (Im 19), I have trouble holding a job for long, I don't have friends or go out for longer then I have to. My bedroom is about as sensory friendly as it can be (blackout blinds, soft orange lighting, soft carpets.) I don't watch TV because I usually don't get the punchlines. I only read, and even then I usually read the same things over and over. I don't fit quite right in this world. I wonder, almost constantly, if I should just go get tested but Im also scared. If a test says Im not an aspie, then what am I? Whats wrong with me? Why am I the way I am?
I just wish I was normal. I wish I knew what that was like. Anyways, sorry for the long post. I just had to get this out. Its been weighing on me.
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