The problem with sharing the thoughts and experiences I've had over the course of my lifetime, is that it gives me some serious anxiety. I'm really afraid to come off looking like a loser, or a freak, because I've put so much energy into blending. But the whole point of starting this thing was to tell the truth about my life as I know it--and in some eyes, freak may be exactly how I'll look. Talking about "it", whatever the "it" of the day turns out to be, is the best way for me to show my experiences are perfectly normal, even if only to me.
The struggle to keep a roof over my head since I was seventeen hasn't been an easy one. I'm a trooper and learned to fight pretty hard to keep it all together without complaints. For all the years of people looking down on me or thinking I was lazy or crazy, I don't have the words, I think, to explain how little that noise helped the situation or made me want to try harder, but I'm going to explain it the best I can. I do fear that I'll also come off all "doom and gloom" when writing these long rants and face the "get over it" perspective from others, but the reality is, things have always been incredibly hard. I don't look at my situation and want pity from anyone. Pity makes me angry and it isn't the point at all. I only want to share the struggles I've endured because I know other people are experiencing them, too, and admitting to those struggles can help everyone understand them, not only the Autistic person.
Had I been diagnosed with HFA back in the 80's, or even with Aspergers in the mid 90's, I'm sure the course of my life would have been different, if only a little easier to navigate. The percentage of diagnoses between men and women is pretty unbalanced, but there may be reasons for that other than the actual disorder itself. A woman who's perceived as shy and disinterested in social events doesn't stand out the way a man does in today's world, where eye contact and interaction is expected. Abuse in relationships shares the same problem. While boys are expected to join in and be decent at team sports, girls typically aren't, so the existence of dyspraxia is also easier to detect in males. If you ask me, there's an incredible imbalance in detection due to societal gender roles and stereotypes. There are going to be people who say I was better off because I was able to get by with some of those traits without standing out, but the opposite is true. It prevents a person from getting the answers they need and a diagnosis that can be critical to moving forward.
I've had serious low points in my life--sleeping on friend's couches and even staying in homeless shelters when things fell completely apart. It's been years since I've had to deal with those problems, more than a decade, but it wasn't easy to get where I am now and I haven't done it alone. Employment has always been hard to keep a handle on. There are a handful of jobs I was fired from when I was young, but the majority I quit (by simply not showing up) after the anxiety, paranoia, and frustration became too much for me to handle mentally. I've also been in and out of college more times than I care to admit, but I've always tried, and kept trying. That's the point of the experiment, I guess, to keep fighting, because nothing good can really happen if you're not reaching for it.
The truth is, I am not a quitter. Nor am I a victim and wouldn't ever want to be seen as one. I'm a person who has a highly limited ability to deal with the the everyday things that happen outside the four walls of my home--that's simply life as I know it. The world isn't "out to get me", even if it can feel that way when looking at the long list of basic expectations a normal life entails. I will never stop trying to meet those basic expectations, nor will I point the finger and pretend it's everyone else's fault if I fail. Whether or not I succeed or fail will be a direct result of the brain I was born with, and that responsibility lies on no one. Accepting failure as some sort of flippant personal choice I made isn't going to fly with me because I want desperately to succeed. My very best is all I can be expected to give--and however that turns out, well, it's what little old me and the world gets.
I think the lack of resources for adults with Autism is something that cripples many people before they can ever take flight. It's not too much to say there are adults that need help managing daily life and their inevitable breakdowns when they don't get that help, because getting by can be too hard without help--I can admit that shamelessly. The focus on school age kids and early intervention is fantastic when there are services available, but much of the time a diagnosis and therapy run financially in the thousands. There are people out there not getting the desperate attention they deserve because they don't have the dollars, or they're just too damn old to be bothered with.
For the record....I am not a lost f*cking cause and I resent the fact I'm seen as such by the powers that be.
*Ahem*
Anyway, moving on. The only reason I don't live in a cardboard box right now is because I wound up married with a few kids, then divorced, and have a hard working ex-husband who's been downright admirable for making sure we're all housed and fed and happy. As much as we struggle to communicate and he gets on my damn nerves, he's also a hero of sorts. Before I had children, I could manage work and bills and the basics. After I had children? No way. There are loads of single mom's who go to work everyday, bundle up the kids and take them to daycare, fight traffic, slog for nine hours in some factory or office, then pick up the kids, feed them, do homework, clean the house, do all the laundry, the list just never ends.....they're heroes to me as well. I can barely get through most days and I seldom leave my house. There's already a low level anxiety about where my life will take me when my kids are grown and (hopefully) off to college. I envision a small apartment and a quiet nine to five and a cat and evenings spent reading. That's about the gist of what I can pull off when I look at my future from where I stand today.
It's the reason I have such hope that finally getting an Aspergers diagnosis can begin to change things for me as new realizations about my nature open up to me. I don't want to do what I do now! That's the biggest misconception--that I'm somehow content to be in my cave all day and I don't need or want anyone around me, and, "Oh, well, lovely cat you have there."
It's so untrue! I crave people. I just seriously suck at relating to them and sustaining friendship. I seriously suck at having to leave my house everyday. Hell, I spend three days gearing up mentally to walk to the post office. I can't begin to tell you what a toll that takes on a person's ability to manage their life. My mother used to tell me how my grandmother spent most of her life inside her kitchen, smoking and singing gospel songs, staring out the window. Part of me believes her life, like mine, was a prison. And for most people, breaking out would be as simple as walking through the front door. So I completely understand that it's hard to envision me as "trapped," but I do feel that way most days, and yes, it sucks giant heaps of dirt. Hope, enough hope that I can somehow bend the bars and squeeze through enough to feel some wind on my face, because I found out why I tick, came just in time to keep me from throwing in the towel altogether.
I recently remembered I'm fighter, and I have no intention of taking the blasted gloves off.
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