525,600 Minutes.

I know I'm a little late with this but, it's January. The year 2014. Happy New Year. I feel like I skipped right over the "changing of the year", and I guess I did. It feels weird because it's supposed to be a big deal or something, but I guess it's not really a big deal at all. What is a big deal is that a whole year has passed in what feels like a blink of an eye. How does that happen?

It was a year ago, almost exactly, that I brought up the subject of Jack and Aspergers, (for the third time in his life). It was a year ago that I set out to read everything I could get my hands on to educate myself on the condition. To date I've read at least 20 books, countless blogs,  watched movies, documentaries, TED talks, and set up camp at YouTube. I even branched off, learning more about Introverts, gifted children, and the HSP.  I'd say I covered my bases.  And it was nearly a year ago that I stumbled upon what seemed like a tribe of women who's experiences and difficulties were mirror images of my own. Many of whom had children with Asperger Syndrome and later received the diagnosis themselves. This discovery sent me off on another quest for information and I suppose you could say it became a special interest. 

It's been a long, and mostly solitary, journey.  A journey that initially started out of worry and fear, but eventually evolved into a journey of self discovery, self-acceptance, and self regulation. The journey is far from over, but I can say with certainty that I no longer feel the same sense of dread that I did a year ago.  I still fear some things, but I'm no longer afraid  for my child.  I'm no longer afraid that he may have Aspergers. I've gained a much better understanding of him and myself, and while I know that he will struggle, I know that he will be okay too. I haven't said too much here about Jack's father, but if I had any money at all I would wager it all that he, himself, is also an Aspie. I have no doubts. In fact, I believe that was what initially attracted me to him in the first place. I had an overwhelming feeling that I had  "found my people." Even years before we got together, I remember his then girlfriend telling me, "he's just like you. he's like the male version of you". And it was true in many ways. Not all, but many. It wasn't enough, obviously, to sustain a relationship, but even now, I know he "gets it", when so many other people don't. In spite of all of this knowing, none of us has received a formal diagnosis at this point. My doctor, through my own therapy and the information I've shared about Jack, has taken to referring to us as neurodiverse.  (You can read John Elder Robinson's take on Neurodiversity here.) That's as formal as we've gotten, and so long as there are no major problems or services needed, that may be as formal as we get. Time will tell. I've gotten more comfortable with ignoring the "early diagnosis is crucial" cries from the Medical Profession. Throughout this process I've found more helpful advice from Autistic individuals themselves than I did from any Medical Professional that does not have Autism. And lets face it, it's too late for an early diagnosis. It's too late for the no eye contact, flappy, toe walking diagnosis. That stuff doesn't happen anymore. Not often anyway so they would never be able to see it. 

So where do we go from here? I don't know. I guess we keep learning, keep discovering, keep accepting and most importantly we keep self regulating. We treat the comorbid symptoms. Primarily the anxiety, OCD tendencies, and rigid thinking. While I'm still having some difficulty with all of those things, my son, is learning quickly, but then again, he's not an Old Dog like me.  

I feel good about where he is today versus where he was a year ago. I find it funny sometimes when someone makes a comment about his behavior, like..."is that healthy for him to spend so much time doing that?"  I know it's usually out of concern, but what's funny is it's always from the same people that don't really accept Aspergers as the reasoning behind it. It reminds me of when I was a child and I would hear... there's nothing wrong with her...along with the conflicting...that's not normal. People are funny. And sometimes infuriating. 

So, a year after this blog post , what is Jack like today?

Jack...

Is obsessed with LEGO'S and is determined to become a Lego Designer.

Is more adventurous with trying new foods, but will latch onto a certain food for weeks. Occasionally he will drop a food from his diet and not want it again. Ever.

I don't see much toe walking but have noticed the flapping returns sometimes. 

Still a nail peeler, but has started using a stress ball, especially when angry.

Still constantly singing and humming movie theme songs or T.V. jingles or making sound effects. Constantly. Did I mention it was Constantly? He also nails the tune.

When he draws it's not just one picture...he goes through 10 or more pages making one after the other. He also draws with detail and perspective.

Still prefers video games and electronics and Lego's to playing outside or with other people. At nine he still does not know how to ride a bike and has no interest in learning.

If he's not playing a video game he has Lego's in hands (constantly) making sound effects. 

Doesn't like to have to go anywhere. Would rather stay home. Doesn't like his routine interrupted, but can sometimes deal with it without tears.

Rarely has to be disciplined. Once he knows the rules he sticks to them and would like for everyone else to as well.

Is heartbroken if he does happen to do something wrong.

Has minimal anxiety about going to school. Usually only on Mondays or after a vacation. (routine interuptus) The rest of the week, though, he dives into his routine and has been all smiles. He sets his alarm for 5:30am so he does not have to rush and has time to play in the morning. He has also become a multi-tasker by using his bus ride to do homework. These are things he's initiated on his own with no help from me.

He still would like things to be perfect but, is more accepting of making mistakes than he ever was. Only breaks down occasionally.

Seems to have a lot of empathy/sympathy and cries easily over real or imaginary sadness

Has developed an obsession with watching YouTube videos. Mostly of other people playing video games. He will also watch Sponge Bob in Spanish.

Is very honest! Loves animals.

Quotes lines from movies or shows while playing.

Has taken to info-dumping, which basically means, when allowed, he will talk non-stop to me about a favorite subject, video game, Lego's or a world in his head. He could do this for an hour straight if I don't stop him.

Can be very literal and often looks to me for clarification. (was he joking?) He has learned to DO some sarcasm, but still doesn't know what it is. :)

Has started requiring alone time.

Has strabismus...little to no depth perception and is color blind.

Expresses his love for his immediate family often and easily.

Enjoys other children, laughs, is silly, but will often just watch them play and only engage in his own personal interests. Needs down time after playing with other kids for long periods of time. He's also starting to collect, and become more possessive with his "things."

Doesn't like sports. Doesn't want to be blamed for doing something wrong. Is only competitive against himself.

Will now only wear comfy pants. No jeans. No buttons. No zippers. Would stay in PJ's forever. :)

And there you have it. There is a lot that hasn't changed and some new behaviors that might be considered obsessive, especially by people with no attention span...but...and this is the most important part...if you read the previous list from last year, the changes that have occurred are all positive. Reduced Anxiety. Self-discovery. Self-acceptance. Self-regulation. 

Diagnosis or not, it's working. 

Hope, who would have appreciated more support when she started this journey, but knows now that she really didn't need it. Trust your instincts.

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Fall, my brain, and a little Poe.

Seems like fall has arrived this morning. Aside from the food and the beer, it is not my favorite season. Along with the cold, it brings dark mornings and dark evenings. Even on the days that the sun is shining you can tell how far away it is. It doesn't warm you. It doesn't shed the same kind of light. I definitely blossom in a climate that is warmer year round, but as that isn't a possibility for me anymore, I'll just try hard to focus on the food and the beer.

The last few weeks have been hard. They've been filled with drama, lies, selfishness, noise, disruptions to routine, tears, anger, doubt, confusion, misunderstandings, revelations, and last but certainly not least anxiety. I feel like I will need at least twice that amount of time to recover fully. The truth is I won't get much recovery time. Instead I will dive right back into busy, which is probably not the worst thing. Work has picked up quite a bit and I'm expecting it to be a crazy Holiday season. In addition to dolls, I've sold some art, which has inspired me to start making more. 

A friend sent me a text just a little while ago, and in the text she asked "How was the visit with Mom?" In true fashion, my Aspie-like brain (what we can call it until diagnosis) dove on to a track of racing thoughts. How do I answer that? Should I just say fine? That would be a lie. Is it just a polite question that doesn't require an in depth answer as to how it is really going? How would most people answer? It's going well. Having a good time! Smiley face. Smiley face. Smiley face. But that's a lie. If I say it's been shitty, I probably won't  get a response. People don't like to hear about shitty. There's really not enough time to get into this. 

And so on and so on and so on. 

A simple question that most people wouldn't think twice about, sends me into over analyzing and panic so I will say the right thing. So I won't say the wrong thing. And at the same time my brain is screaming at me because telling the polite social white lie makes my skin crawl. How are you? I'm fine, how are you? It makes me want to vomit. 

This is automatic. This is just how it is. This is one more reason why it's easier for me to be somewhat shut off, with limited contact. My brain just goes through much more processing than most people I know, and honestly it's exhausting. I'm exhausted.

So instead of any more updates today, I will leave you with this. One of my favorite Poems by one of my favorite Poets. It makes more sense now. I don't find it sad anymore.

Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view. 

Edgar Allan Poe

One more thing I don't understand.

I remember when I was a child my mother used to confuse the hell out of me. My adoptive mother. I would see how she was with me, her niece and nephew, my father, her mother, her sister, her sister-in-law, etc.., and although I was sure she was still the same person she didn't act like it. Her mannerisms changed, the tone, sound and pitch of her voice changed, and even the way her faced moved changed. With each different person she engaged with she became "someone else". When she was with her sister, she was loud, blunt, and had a thick Massachusetts accent. When she was with her sister-in-law her voice became quiet and she pronounced each syllable of each word to the point of annoyance. It was like this with everyone. "Why are you acting like that?" I'd ask. "Acting like what?" she's say. "Like you're in a play. Like you're pretending." I'm not sure she ever got what I was asking. I am sure she eventually got offended when I told her she was being fake. But, really, she was, whether she noticed it or not.

It's not that I was unfamiliar with the changes in people entirely, it was that I was confused as to why there were so many and why people couldn't just be who they were ALL THE TIME. My birth mother was probably the first person to introduce to such change. She went from Sober, quiet, and soft spoken to Drunk, loud, and angry and lastly to completely withdrawn. (A trait her and I seem to share, especially as I find myself more and more alienated as the years go by.) With her, though, I knew it was what was in the bottle that brought about the change.

As the years went by I realized that this is what people do. That what I see as being "fake" is actually how the majority of people interact with one another. They share with some, they hide from others. They swear in front of her and they keep their language G rated in front of him. This is what most people do and no one really gives a shit. Everyone accepts it. Or perhaps they don't notice the subtle differences?  I've learned this "art form" to a point. I know there are definite times I can't be myself completely. After having a child you are forced into censoring yourself to a point. For the most part though I'm more like my Birth Mother. I have the choice of being myself, letting the anger out, or completely withdrawing. That's it. I find myself, now, having specific times where these three options play over and over like a pattern. I can even tell you now when it will happen. If given a choice (and maybe I do have a choice after all?) I would just rather be myself. If how I am doesn't match whatever person you are deciding to be today then I guess that's too bad. If how I am doesn't fit into the world of ever changing relationships then I have to seriously consider the fact that maybe that is a world I don't belong in.

Relationships. Hard. Nearly impossible and always changing. If I hear one more time about how natural that is I think I might implode. We make a choice somewhere along the line to STOP giving of ourselves. We decide that for some reason it's not nearly as important as all of the other little distractions in our lives. Maybe it's because we get lazy, or maybe it's because we're simply just not that into it anymore. No one will admit that, of course. That's far too much honesty for the average relationship to stomach.  I'm mean, just because I take you for granted, doesn't mean I don't want you around.  Ridiculous. People like me don't play this game very well at all. I know this. I've known it since the first time I ever allowed someone else into my world and my heart. Is it rigid thinking? Maybe. Or maybe I just don't "grow" like other people do, and I'm doomed to stay lost in a fairy tale that never existed.

In any case, even at the ripe old age of 42, people still confuse me. I don't understand why now because of "that" we have to act like "this".  Because, damn it, after well over a year of continuously hearing that nothing was changing, things fucking changed, and apparently they are never going back to the way they were.

Hope, who has learned that even though she saw, heard, smelled, tasted, and felt the change coming, ultimately, nothing she did ended up stopping it. 

Early Signs...Lines, Separating, and Sorting

As I've mentioned, one of the early signs of autism spectrum disorder, is a tendency for the child to line things up. Back when this first start happening in my household I really didn't have a clue as to what it could mean. Although my son did seem lost in his own world, it was as if he would snap out of it from time to time and make contact. I guess I told myself he was just really focusing on what he was looking at or doing. When these odd behaviors did present themselves I thought it was cute. After all, this was my son. I thought everything he did was cute.

 I remember when I first learned that this behavior was an early sign of autism. It was like a slideshow in fast forward had been turned on inside my head. I saw image after image after image of what my son had been doing for years. Being somewhat obsessed with taking photographs, I caught a lot of it and figured I would share some here. Incidentally, I never did try to alter or change this behavior. I'm sure I thought something like,  he's  "like me", he likes to organize. In any case, I'm glad that I let Jack be Jack.

When Jack first started his lining, separating and sorting he was still just learning to talk. He couldn't say his Th's and instead they came out as F's. He knew exactly what he doing when he engaged in this type of play.  In his own words, I proudly present...." Making Straight Fingy's"

Pairs stayed together.

Tub toys were always lined up on the edge of the tub.

Lines could be vertical.

And very tall.

Lining up the Easter eggs...

and sorting the Halloween Candy!

Lining up the Kitchen chairs. I was putting away laundry while this happened.

Lining up the cones at Daddy's work.

Sorting and lining up the Lunchables. 

Lining up his socks. 

With his new love of trains, the lines came in the form of a track, which was more "normal."

Only his trains were usually lined up in a row right beside the track, instead of on it.

Pairs of trains.

Pairs of Guitars.

The pine cone city.

Lines in the sand.

Just like with all behavior, if it's done often enough it becomes a part of who the person is. You really have to focus and think (or at least I do) to pick it out. If someone would have asked me, "Does Jack still line things up?" , I would have said. "No, he outgrew that behavior."

Except that these photos were taken fairly recently.

Lines of Lego Guys

I'm sure I have more somewhere. His matchbox cars and trains were always in big lines along the carpet. When he wasn't spinning the wheels. A simple search on Google with the words "Autism line things up" will provide more examples of this type of behavior. It brought back a lot of memories. Most of which are good, because as I said, I was pretty oblivious at first. 

The latest update, is the Anxiety is back, as I said it would be. He's now having what I can only describe as Obsessive OCD type "thoughts". I've decided not to wait until Summer as planned and have put another call in to the doctors office. Their less than than timely response is starting to annoy me though, and I'm probably going to make another call tomorrow to a place that was recommended by a friend. 

As for me, I've heard back from the Specialist, and apparently for adults Diagnostic Assessment is pretty damn costly. Of course it is. Nothing is cheap, or easy. So for now, I'm on the back burner until funds magically appear. 

Hope, who is still knee deep in figuring it all out.

Spring, Moonshine, and Living in a Literal World.

First, I'd just like to say Spring is here. Finally. It's not in full force, but it is here none the less. I spent the morning cleaning out the flower beds and dumping the sticks and leaves and debris that Winter always leaves behind. Considering my green thumb has been virtually non existent for most of my life, I'm pretty damn proud of myself.

Okay, now that that's out of the way...back to business. During all my research over the past few months, I've learned that people with Autism or Asperger's (soon to become one) are just as individual and unique as anyone else, and more often than not you will not be able to tell by just looking at them.

But, having said that, and agreeing with the sentiment "If you've met one Aspie, you've met one Aspie", I have noticed a few key traits that seem to be universal, so to speak. One of those key traits is being Literal. Upholding an exact or primary meaning of a word or words. For example, you're invited to a dinner where everyone is asked to bring a dish. And you bring a dish. Just a dish. I don't think it is always that extreme, but you get the idea. Falling under the catagory of Taking Things Literally is also ... not getting the joke. Or not being able to tell when someone is joking, by missing the clues, like facial expression, tone of voice etc...

My son was always very literal, but given the household he lives in now, and my love of sarcasm, he's learning to get it. Not always, but he's only eight. He's got time. He still struggles with knowing when someone is joking. I, myself, was very literal as a child, but honestly feel that due to my interest in figures of speech, idioms, and word origins, I'm cleaning up in that area. ;)  I do, however, still see the visual or movie in my head every time. For example, if you say "Stop beating a dead horse.", I will instantly get that visual. Kind of gross. I was also always famous for missing the joke. Being a blonde, that won me the title of Ditzy.

Apparently I'm still missing the joke. Being undiagnosed at this time, I can only attribute it to me, being me. Which is fine. Sometimes, being me is awesome. Funny, even. My tendancy to grasp on to ridiculous details, even made me laugh today.

My BF has developed a love of Hillbilly Shows, as I call them. One of those shows being Moonshiners. He will seriously watch them back to back for hours. I even bought him one of those nifty Turn Juice into Wine contraptions to play with for Christmas.  About a month or so ago he say's to me, "Save these gallon water jugs for me to put my Moonshine in when I make it." That's what he said. I think that was all he said. I may have rolled my eyes or something, thinking..."Oh god, here we go." but preceded to save the jugs. Every time I emptied a gallon jug of water I made sure not to throw it in the recycle bin and instead save it for his Moonshine. Save the jugs. Save the jugs. Save the jugs. Detail.

                                                 (Ignore the skull. It's plastic. I swear.)

Today, while I was playing in the dirt and the leaves, he walks out of the garage.

BF: "Are you really saving those Gallon water jugs?" (smirking)

Me: "Yeah. You said you wanted them."

BF: (laughs)

Me: "What's so funny?"

BF: "You were really saving those jugs!"

Me: "You said you wanted them. Why are you laughing??"

BF: "I'm not really going to make Moonshine. I was just kidding. You thought I was really going to make Moonshine!" (laughing)

Me: "No you weren't! You were kidding?? Really? You said you wanted them. I've been saving them because I really thought you wanted them!"

BF: "It's okay, it's funny."

Me: "I can't believe you were kidding. Here I was thinking I was being supportive of your crazy idea."

BF:" "I know. That's cute."

So, yeah. I finally laughed. And every time I think about now, I laugh again. But the truth of the matter is, I know this man fairly well. Maybe, better than I've known anyone, and still I miss the clues. I can see why ditzy might fit, or even gullible, but I don't really believe I'm either. I just suck at reading between the lines. This isn't the first time. It certainly won't be the last.

In my defense, though, this very same man that was joking about Moonshine, is attempting to grow a pineapple in our kitchen. A pineapple that will take two years to actually grow.

At least, I think he is...

Hope, who can still laugh at herself so that must be a good thing.

Aspie or Not: Childhood and then some.

My last list consists mainly of what I can recall from my childhood. It was much easier for me to compose this list for my son because I could verify the memories I had of him with photos and videos that I had taken. For myself, I don't have that reference. I have some photos ( but not many) and absolutely no video. I have other people's memories of me. "You were just shy, but stubborn...quiet and content to be alone. A little quirky. Sensitive. Picky. You always wanted to be right and you were too smart for your own good. You were nervous, but you had a lot to deal with at a young age. There was nothing really wrong with you. The shrink said you were fine. You were very grown up for your age. You were a good kid."

Most of this is true. What "I had to deal with",  was living with an alcoholic mother, that I both loved and feared, for the first seven years of my life. And then being abruptly taken away from her and sent to live with strangers.  Based on that alone, I challenge any Doctor's diagnoses of  "she's fine."  That should have been a red flag right there, but it wasn't, simply because nobody wanted there to be anything wrong with me. Just like I don't want there to be anything wrong with my son. You will grasp onto those "she's fine/he's fine" comments for dear life.

Ironically, despite everyone believing I was mostly fine, the things that were wrong with me, were always blamed on my first seven years, and my alcoholic mother, and neglect. I've gone down that road myself more times than I can count. Not so much to blame ( although, sometimes that was certainly the case), but as an attempt to find answers to the question:  Why am I the way I am? You don't ask that question unless you know you are different.

Anxiety? Alcohol? Aspergers?

Here are some of the things I remember:

A. Up until age Seven:

1. I spent a large portion of my time in my own head. Adults called it daydreaming. For me, I think it was play. I specifically remember being able to stare at things until they became really far away looking and small. I did this a lot. I could look at things upside down forever. I spent a lot of time looking at things. I don't remember any kind of stims per se. I remember my mother making me walk for people and saying I walked funny.

2. I remember thinking that eyes were gross. Disgusting holes in people's faces and I didn't like looking at them. I didn't really like any of the holes. Mouths, nostrils, ears, but the eyes were the worst.

3. I was happy to go to school on my first day. I didn't understand why some of the kids were crying. I also didn't understand why they couldn't read.

4.  I only played games with rules or things I knew about personally. Hide and seek. Tag. Red rover, Red rover, or school. I re-played Romper Room or other shows I watched on T.V. I played anything with structure and clear, defined rules. My make believe consisted only of things I had seen.

5. I remember throwing all my toys out of our second story window because I just didn't want them anymore. I also remember getting frustrated and annoyed when playing with other kids and going in to get away from them. I refused to go back out for days no matter how often they would ask.

6. I was very literal as a child.  I always thought this was the case with all children, and I still feel that way to a point. My mother used to tell me I was the most beautiful girl in the world. And I believed her. I really thought that I was it...the one. I also could never understand how Crystal Gayle's  brown eyes could turn blue. I loved nursery rhymes or any other type of rhyme but I took them at face value. I remember drawing a picture of a woman sticking a needle in her eye, which really upset my mother. It was from... Cross your heart, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye. I never really understood why anyone would hope to die either.

7. My favorite song was Loving You by Minnie Riperton. I believe it was all the lalala's. I have a video of my son. listening to it when he was two years old. The lalala's got him as well.

8. I remember one the neighborhood kids had a toy toaster. I fell in love with that toaster and probably would have traded anything I had to get it.

9. I also loved chocolate water. In fact, I may have invented it. I would make it when my mother was sleeping or passed out. Each time. Every time. My eating habits were odd in general. I could only eat one thing at a time and my food could not touch. Ever. Although I never ate much, it took me forever. My grandfather was the only one who never gave me hard time about my eating. "Leave her alone" he's say."Let her eat the way she wants."

10. I remember being outside with the neighborhood kids and just not "getting it". I thought they were stupid, but apparently they thought I was as well, as they made up the song..."Hope the dope, ate a bar of soap. Bubbles here, bubbles there, bubbles in her underwear."

11. At four years old I developed a love of photographs.

12. At about age four or five I developed my first obsession. General Hospital. A soap opera. An odd obsession for a young child to say the least, but only recently have I realized it ended up becoming an important learning tool. Basically a life long teacher. So far, the interest has lasted for 37 years.

13. At six I developed my love of monkeys.

14. Besides cousins in my life, I had only one friend during these years. She lived downstairs from us in the last apartment I ever lived in with my mother.

B. After age seven:

15. My first toy obsession developed with Barbies. For probably the next 4-5 years that was basically the only "toy" I wanted or would  "play" with. Nine times out of ten my Barbie play consisted mostly of "planning" and "setting the stage" for what I was going to do, and the actual play fell by the wayside. However, when I did manage to get that far, my play was all adult themed. AS SEEN ON TV.

16. I had Baby Dolls as well, and while I liked to look at them, whenever I tried to play "taking care of baby" scenarios I quickly got bored with it. I even remember thinking I would never grow up to be a mother because I just didn't like it.

17. By this time my friends had expanded to include my two cousins in my new family. Not because we had anything in common, simply because we were together a lot. As much as I'm sure being with them was probably good for me in a sense, I was always relieved when it was time for them to go.

18. Play continued to exist of copying or doing something practical. My interests expanded to drawing, reading and writing. I had very little interest in being girly and wearing skirts or dresses, and yet I was not a tomboy either. I rarely even thought of myself as being one or the other. I was just me.

19. My mother learned early on that sending me to my room was no punishment, because that is exactly where I always wanted to be.

20. If given the choice to go play with other kids or stay with adults I would choose the adults more times than not. I was "shy" and people were always trying to get me to come "out of my shell", which always made me think they thought I was a turtle or maybe a clam. Sometimes they would let me stay with them and   give me paper so I could draw. Sometimes, however, they would force me to go out, which would result in me standing around and watching all the other kids play. This was especially the case if I didn't know the kids well. If I did know them, again, I could join in on tag or hide and seek.

21. By this time, school had started to bore me. I didn't like it. I didn't like having to read out loud in class and the teachers were always telling me to speak up. I was a good student and got good grades, but I just didn't like being there and having to do things with the other kids. Each year from first grade until fourth grade I would have only one friend. That friend changed from year to year, and we were only friends in class. There was little to no play with these friends outside of school until fifth grade.

22. By fifth grade my first extroverted friend "adopted me" so to speak. She decided I was her friend and that was the way it was. This was the beginning of some sort of social life...sleepovers...amusements parks...etc. It was pretty easy for me because all I had to do was follow. I was a good at following.

C. The teenage years:

23. School not only continued to bore me, but also overwhelm me. I always felt like I was in a dream when walking the halls with all the people rushing by. I could never get used to it. Staring at the floor while I walked was the only way to keep from getting dizzy. Lunch was awful. It stunk and I hardly ever ate what they had. At home, my time was spent in my room reading, listening to music (mostly from the seventies...later country) and writing poetry or in my journals. I remember my mother would make me go grocery shopping with her. I would have given anything to just stay home, but she'd never let me. I hated the grocery store and all the people. I would avoid the laundry detergent aisle complaining that I could taste it. Statements like this would always result in the "You're weird." comment from my mother.

24.  My friend situation continued, with that one friend, who also continued to be the extrovert, the boss, the leader. I don't think it was because other people didn't like me, but simply because they didn't know me. I was hard to get to know. I offered nothing. I had nothing offer. Wanting a lot of friends was a concept I never fully wrapped my brain around. It always seemed too hectic and confusing. Never the less, I ended up in a sort of group of friends simply by default.

25. By eighth grade I had gotten my first boyfriend. Purely by accident. He was interested in me, but I had very little interest in him, in fact I ended up breaking up with him and setting him up with my friend. By the end of the year, however, I needed a date for the Dinner Dance and decided he would be the best option and then I could just break up with him again before summer vacation. Despite my well laid out plans, we ended up falling in love and staying together until our Junior year in high school. This relationship was where I developed my next obsessive interest. Sex. I suppose I'm lucky that first experience was good or I could have developed an aversion to sex instead. However, I do think, it set a precedence, and probably created a monster.

26. My next obsessive interest ended up being people. The first was Marilyn Monroe. This interest lasted for about 12 years. It wasn't her movies, her beauty, or her stardom that intrigued me. It was her words. Her story. I bought the book Marilyn Monroe, My Story and that was all it took. I think I read it at least five times. In a row. I've read it more than that since. The person who wrote that book wasn't the person in all the posters and pin ups. She was more than that. And her words were something I could relate to. Next was Sylvia Plath, who to this day, I still enjoy reading.  I remember my mother saying it was sick. That there was something wrong with being obsessed with women who committed suicide, like that was why, I was obsessed with them. But she didn't get it. It was mostly their words that I was obsessed with. Because they made sense to me. Because they described what it felt like to be me. It wasn't until recently that I found out that both of them are suspected to have been on the Spectrum.

27. My relationship with my first love, inevitably, ended and I was lost. Not only because of the breakup, but because he had been that One Friend, for all of those years. I was back to not fitting anywhere again. My anxiety/nervousness increased and I began experiencing panic attacks, although I had no idea that is what they were back then. I thought there was something wrong with my body. I would twitch, shake, and my heart would beat like it was trying to break out my chest. I couldn't eat in the cafeteria. I started skipping school and spending my days at the library, simply because I couldn't get out my car and walk in the building. I froze, and the only place I wanted to be was some place quiet and peaceful. I started therapy my Senior year (against my parents wishes..."Hope is not crazy" they insisted) where I received a tentative diagnosis of BPD. The anxiety wasn't even addressed and she seemed more interested in getting me to stop drinking and skipping school than anything else. Instead of seeing the school skipping as what it was, she instead decided it was impulsive behavior. The insurance ended up running out after about 10 visits so I stopped going. Luckily, it didn't take long before the next extrovert saw something of interest in me. With her by my side, and the help of alcohol I made it through the rest of High School in one piece. Drinking, partying, dating. Just like a normal girl.

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As extensive as this last list is, it's a pretty basic timeline. I'm leaving out some important life details like the death of my mother and my parents move to NH. However, I don't really feel that either of those things played a huge role in who I was.


Hope, who is pretty sure my current interest in Autism/Asperger's Syndrome would be considered special...