Twelve years ago, I gave birth to a baby boy who is the love of my life. He was a very difficult baby and as he grew older - and bigger - and stronger - life became its own roller coaster of a mess. You can read all about those days in my old blogs. This blog is about me.
As my son grew up, I noticed more and more that we seemed to have quite a bit in common. I seemed to know what he needed and thought it was motherly instinct.
Until I realized that my life was falling apart and I had no idea why.
I was having trouble at my job.
I was having trouble just living life.
I got curious. Was I losing my mind? I've always felt off-kilter but I always seemed to be able to hold myself together, until recently.
This foundation I thought was my life, that I had built so carefully for 47 years, was crumbling beneath me.
I needed answers.
I was referred to a psychologist who specializes in ASD teens and adults. I met with him three times. Two of those times, my husband was with me. We have been married for 28 years and could give some good history of at least my early adulthood. I supplied what I could remember of my childhood.
The diagnosis was not a huge surprise. When the psychologist told me that I more than met the requirements for Asperger's, I almost smiled. But then this crushing feeling came down on me. All of this time I had been living a life without knowing who I truly was.
Since the eggheads who write the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders had decided to remove Asperger's as a legitimate diagnosis the beginning of this year, my official diagnosis is High Functioning Autistic. But my psychologist told me, you have Aspergers. I can't diagnose you with that, but that is what you have.
So here I sit, two months without a job, one month knowing that I am an Aspie and grew up unaware.
I have a need to comb through my life and rewrite it through the eyes of an Aspie. How would I have viewed my young life if I had known my brain was wired differently (like my son does)? Would I have had an easier time knowing why I felt like an outsider, a weirdo, someone who didn't understand what others seemed to grasp so easily? Would I have avoided the depression that has clung to me my entire life? Would I have chosen a totally different path in life than the one I chose? I don't know. I just know that now I know. And it has changed me. I am still trying to accept it. I am trying to move beyond the label and get to know myself as I really am, instead of this person I constructed in an attempt to fit into this world.
I was working with Unemployment Resources until I received my diagnosis, and then was unceremoniously dumped by my counselor after telling him and referred to a new place that helps people with disabilities get trained for jobs. From a video I watched compliments of the Autism Society, I have a good chance at finding a job in a mailroom, sorting mail, or a library, putting away and organizing books. I could also be an assembly line worker, screwing little screws into parts as they come barreling down nonstop.
I could do any of those things. I would rather stick a sharp stick through my eye. Of course, before dumping me, my counselor at Unemployment Resources suggested I could have a lucrative career at a major fast food chain or a bullseye-type store as a cashier. I told him that I had done both of those things as a teenager and I'd be damned if that was all I was able to do. I have an amazing resume and have done some amazing things, including teaching myself AutoCAD in my twenties. Maybe my response led to the unceremonious dumping?
So. I'm job-hunting. I'm waiting to get a call from this new place to see if I "qualify" for their services. I'm volunteering at the Autism Society as a teacher's aide for a weekend art class.
I am in a holding pattern in my life.
I have had interviews. I have done what I consider to be very well in those interviews. Nobody has called me back.
I apply for jobs. Sometimes I get phone interviews.
But I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that my past job failure seems to be linked to the fact that my Asperger's got tired of being buried under all of these false personas and my brain simply shut down. My mind now spends its time plaguing me with depression, anxiety, sleep problems, the inability to deal with stress anymore, and any other evils it can slip in.
So. This is me. An Aspie who spent probably more than half of her life not knowing what she was. An Aspie with an Aspie child who seems to be dealing with life better than his own mother. The bomb has been dropped, and I'm the one who pushed the button. Stick around. This ought to be interesting.
As my son grew up, I noticed more and more that we seemed to have quite a bit in common. I seemed to know what he needed and thought it was motherly instinct.
Until I realized that my life was falling apart and I had no idea why.
I was having trouble at my job.
I was having trouble just living life.
I got curious. Was I losing my mind? I've always felt off-kilter but I always seemed to be able to hold myself together, until recently.
This foundation I thought was my life, that I had built so carefully for 47 years, was crumbling beneath me.
I needed answers.
I was referred to a psychologist who specializes in ASD teens and adults. I met with him three times. Two of those times, my husband was with me. We have been married for 28 years and could give some good history of at least my early adulthood. I supplied what I could remember of my childhood.
The diagnosis was not a huge surprise. When the psychologist told me that I more than met the requirements for Asperger's, I almost smiled. But then this crushing feeling came down on me. All of this time I had been living a life without knowing who I truly was.
Since the eggheads who write the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders had decided to remove Asperger's as a legitimate diagnosis the beginning of this year, my official diagnosis is High Functioning Autistic. But my psychologist told me, you have Aspergers. I can't diagnose you with that, but that is what you have.
So here I sit, two months without a job, one month knowing that I am an Aspie and grew up unaware.
I have a need to comb through my life and rewrite it through the eyes of an Aspie. How would I have viewed my young life if I had known my brain was wired differently (like my son does)? Would I have had an easier time knowing why I felt like an outsider, a weirdo, someone who didn't understand what others seemed to grasp so easily? Would I have avoided the depression that has clung to me my entire life? Would I have chosen a totally different path in life than the one I chose? I don't know. I just know that now I know. And it has changed me. I am still trying to accept it. I am trying to move beyond the label and get to know myself as I really am, instead of this person I constructed in an attempt to fit into this world.
I was working with Unemployment Resources until I received my diagnosis, and then was unceremoniously dumped by my counselor after telling him and referred to a new place that helps people with disabilities get trained for jobs. From a video I watched compliments of the Autism Society, I have a good chance at finding a job in a mailroom, sorting mail, or a library, putting away and organizing books. I could also be an assembly line worker, screwing little screws into parts as they come barreling down nonstop.
I could do any of those things. I would rather stick a sharp stick through my eye. Of course, before dumping me, my counselor at Unemployment Resources suggested I could have a lucrative career at a major fast food chain or a bullseye-type store as a cashier. I told him that I had done both of those things as a teenager and I'd be damned if that was all I was able to do. I have an amazing resume and have done some amazing things, including teaching myself AutoCAD in my twenties. Maybe my response led to the unceremonious dumping?
So. I'm job-hunting. I'm waiting to get a call from this new place to see if I "qualify" for their services. I'm volunteering at the Autism Society as a teacher's aide for a weekend art class.
I am in a holding pattern in my life.
I have had interviews. I have done what I consider to be very well in those interviews. Nobody has called me back.
I apply for jobs. Sometimes I get phone interviews.
But I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that my past job failure seems to be linked to the fact that my Asperger's got tired of being buried under all of these false personas and my brain simply shut down. My mind now spends its time plaguing me with depression, anxiety, sleep problems, the inability to deal with stress anymore, and any other evils it can slip in.
So. This is me. An Aspie who spent probably more than half of her life not knowing what she was. An Aspie with an Aspie child who seems to be dealing with life better than his own mother. The bomb has been dropped, and I'm the one who pushed the button. Stick around. This ought to be interesting.
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