Rising_Son
New Member
Hello. I've always been an outcast, but I have what seems to be a unique predicament. Before I go further, I will warn in advance that some things that I say may be uncomfortable to others. I will follow all community guidelines, but I hope that this community can be tolerant of the way that I think and communicate.
Back to my predicament; I have Asperger's syndrome, but I have been conditioned to be able to recognize when my behavior isn't normal, and to make attempts to correct it. I've been taught all my life that I need to change, to act normal, and for the most part I have. I was officially diagnosed in sixth grade, and I actively went against my 504 plan, it insulted me that people thought of me as being unable to improve. My school thought that I'd never be able to "grow up". If I made a mistake that could be attributed to my disorder, I would refuse to let them overlook it. It offended me that people would even consider overlooking my behavior, just because there was an explanation for it. I wanted to be held accountable.
Wherever I went, I was labeled by others, it was the first thing most people knew about me (my diagnosis), and they looked at me with pity, and spoke to me as if I couldn't understand what they were saying. It hurt me, deeply. When I entered high school, I actively urged the leadership to remove my 504 plan entirely, and to bar me from seeking to create another; I waived my right to be treated delicately.
As a result, very few of my teachers knew that I was on the spectrum, and none of my classmates did. I was so thankful, and appreciated that instead of being "that poor autistic child", I was just "the odd one that walks funny".
Things changed during my Freshman year's parent-teacher conference. There were a few other students in my high-school who were on the spectrum, and my mother seemed to find all of them. She actively sought out them and their parents, and before I could intervene she was talking to them and anyone else who would listen. "Oh, child A has Asperger's? So does my child! Oh, he's right there, the one in the blue shirt". In no time, they saw me, and I saw the look in their eyes. Pity. Before, I had been nothing more than a slightly odd child, but now? I was a dumb animal to them, a disabled boy who could understand the world no more than a dog would. High school was worse after that; word spread, and I was an outcast once again. People avoided me. In gym class, if I accidentally landed an elbow during a basketball game, I was "just another clumsy autistic kid". It never led to a fight, because they "would never hit someone like me".
I reached out to the one circle that might accept me; the other outcasts, the other people on the spectrum. But what I found hurt me almost as much as the neurotypicals. These other students embraced their oddities with a wild abandon. If they said something offensive, they neither apologized nor tried to make the offended person feel better. In an almost snobbish way, they would say "it's okay, I have Asperger's". They took their diagnosis, and they wielded it as if it were a tool for them to evade trouble, or stay out of harm's way. They used it to be able to freely insult others, but receive no judgement in return. I had taken to wearing a fedora because I liked the way it looked, my great grandfather had worn one in his day, and it felt comfortable. But the next thing I knew, it seemed that all of the outcasts were wearing them. They wore them in bright colors, some had metallic accents, cheetah print designs, etc. It was no longer a comfortable hat, it was like a neon sign pointing out that I must be one of "those" kids. I never wore that hat again.
I had a romantic relationship from Junior year, to well after I had graduated. After I found out that she had been cheating on me, I ended the relationship. But because I didn't stoop so low as to tell the world what she had done, she was free to tell everyone whatever she wanted to in order to save her reputation. She told everyone that she had a male roommate, and that my poor, autistic mind had been consumed with jealousy. What few friends I had been able to have quickly abandoned me. I fell into a deep depression, and I turned to alcohol.
At one point, I decided that it would be best to just end my life. But in that moment, when I was at my weakest, when I was in the darkest low point of my life, I had an epiphany. If my life meant nothing to me, what was holding me back? If was already on my list as an option, shouldn't literally everything else? If I could so easily give up my life for nothing, I should give it in service to someone else, in the end, what would it matter? My process of enlisting in the Air Force was quick, and soon, I was out of basic training, and I was working for the military. I've been in for nearly three years now, and I've truly learned who I am as a person.
Although my story isn't the happiest, I am past what I hope are the worst parts of my life, and hope that the rest of my story, the part that you as a community will witness, will be happy.
Back to my predicament; I have Asperger's syndrome, but I have been conditioned to be able to recognize when my behavior isn't normal, and to make attempts to correct it. I've been taught all my life that I need to change, to act normal, and for the most part I have. I was officially diagnosed in sixth grade, and I actively went against my 504 plan, it insulted me that people thought of me as being unable to improve. My school thought that I'd never be able to "grow up". If I made a mistake that could be attributed to my disorder, I would refuse to let them overlook it. It offended me that people would even consider overlooking my behavior, just because there was an explanation for it. I wanted to be held accountable.
Wherever I went, I was labeled by others, it was the first thing most people knew about me (my diagnosis), and they looked at me with pity, and spoke to me as if I couldn't understand what they were saying. It hurt me, deeply. When I entered high school, I actively urged the leadership to remove my 504 plan entirely, and to bar me from seeking to create another; I waived my right to be treated delicately.
As a result, very few of my teachers knew that I was on the spectrum, and none of my classmates did. I was so thankful, and appreciated that instead of being "that poor autistic child", I was just "the odd one that walks funny".
Things changed during my Freshman year's parent-teacher conference. There were a few other students in my high-school who were on the spectrum, and my mother seemed to find all of them. She actively sought out them and their parents, and before I could intervene she was talking to them and anyone else who would listen. "Oh, child A has Asperger's? So does my child! Oh, he's right there, the one in the blue shirt". In no time, they saw me, and I saw the look in their eyes. Pity. Before, I had been nothing more than a slightly odd child, but now? I was a dumb animal to them, a disabled boy who could understand the world no more than a dog would. High school was worse after that; word spread, and I was an outcast once again. People avoided me. In gym class, if I accidentally landed an elbow during a basketball game, I was "just another clumsy autistic kid". It never led to a fight, because they "would never hit someone like me".
I reached out to the one circle that might accept me; the other outcasts, the other people on the spectrum. But what I found hurt me almost as much as the neurotypicals. These other students embraced their oddities with a wild abandon. If they said something offensive, they neither apologized nor tried to make the offended person feel better. In an almost snobbish way, they would say "it's okay, I have Asperger's". They took their diagnosis, and they wielded it as if it were a tool for them to evade trouble, or stay out of harm's way. They used it to be able to freely insult others, but receive no judgement in return. I had taken to wearing a fedora because I liked the way it looked, my great grandfather had worn one in his day, and it felt comfortable. But the next thing I knew, it seemed that all of the outcasts were wearing them. They wore them in bright colors, some had metallic accents, cheetah print designs, etc. It was no longer a comfortable hat, it was like a neon sign pointing out that I must be one of "those" kids. I never wore that hat again.
I had a romantic relationship from Junior year, to well after I had graduated. After I found out that she had been cheating on me, I ended the relationship. But because I didn't stoop so low as to tell the world what she had done, she was free to tell everyone whatever she wanted to in order to save her reputation. She told everyone that she had a male roommate, and that my poor, autistic mind had been consumed with jealousy. What few friends I had been able to have quickly abandoned me. I fell into a deep depression, and I turned to alcohol.
At one point, I decided that it would be best to just end my life. But in that moment, when I was at my weakest, when I was in the darkest low point of my life, I had an epiphany. If my life meant nothing to me, what was holding me back? If was already on my list as an option, shouldn't literally everything else? If I could so easily give up my life for nothing, I should give it in service to someone else, in the end, what would it matter? My process of enlisting in the Air Force was quick, and soon, I was out of basic training, and I was working for the military. I've been in for nearly three years now, and I've truly learned who I am as a person.
Although my story isn't the happiest, I am past what I hope are the worst parts of my life, and hope that the rest of my story, the part that you as a community will witness, will be happy.
