In pre-school I was pretty clueless about everything. I had not idea what other kids were on about and don't remember having many friends. If anything I would attach myself to one other child but avoid any group activities, if at all possible.
I recall that I didn't understand teasing at that age. For example; one day a kid came to daycare with a shaved head, and all of the other kids started pointing and laughing while chanting, "Mr. Potatohead! Mr. Potatoehea!." I thought this was very mean of them, so I went up and said, "Do you want to play with me Mr. Potatoehead?" To my astonishment he started crying again and told me not to call him that. I didn't understand this response. Wasn't that his name?
In kindergarten I would later learn that my teacher initially thought I had a low IQ because I was always looking around and couldn't seem to focus on any one thing. On the rare occasion that she could engage me, however, she found that I performed near the top of the class. My interest in science was also quite evident from an early age. When we went on a field trip to the museum I astonished our tour guide by being able to name every single dinosaur on display, and yet, I couldn't count past five. My teacher said I would likely grow up to be some brilliant scientist, capable of understanding concepts far beyond normal comprehension, but that I would leave the house having forgotten to put on my pants.
As elementary continued so did my difficulties. I often lagged behind my peers, especially in math and spelling. Usually I would be off with a teacher's aide trying to catch up. In grade one I needed a special rubber grip just to hold my pencil properly. In gym class I was uncoordinated and unathletic. I hated anything to do with teams. Other kids made fun of me constantly, calling me a "retard", "spaz", "freak", and various synonyms. I mostly escaped into my own imagination, pretending I was anywhere other than where I was.
Around the age of eight I began to think a lot about death and the inevitability of time. I would pace the perimeter of the school yard by myself and contemplate things like global pollution and the character building qualities of suffering. At one point I started playing with my class mates again and the teacher saw fit to mention this on my report card. Playing with other kids was hard though, especially in groups. I never felt like I could keep up with their frenetic pace, and people often didn't care about my input. I always preferred to have just one other play mate all to myself. Usually this would be a new kid who had trouble fitting in. I would always feel betrayed when they went off to join the herd.
My home life was a lot better. I always got along with my parents, and I had a few friends who I would often play with. As my mom would note later, however, all of these friends had been introduced to me by them. I never really made friends on my own until later in life. But at least I was not deprived of mates.
I got on exceptionally well with adults, mind you. From the time I was four I was quite capable of carrying on a conversations with them. Frankly, I felt more comfortable socializing with grownups than I did my own peers. Their ways of thinking were easier to relate to, and they didn't treat me like a pariah.
In grade six I had a rather abusive teacher with a habit of finding the class misfit and systematically persecuting them as a scapegoat. That child happened to be me that year. He locked me out in the hall way to do my work. When I brought it to him to mark he would say that he was busy and didn't have time. So I would sit out in the hall all day, missing out on class. At the end of the day he would have me fill out a reflection sheet documenting what we had done in class that day. "Nothing.", and, "I spent the day sitting in the hall.", were not acceptable answers, so I had to reconstruct what they had done before I was allowed to leave. Half way through the year I was transferred to a different school.
At the new school I finally began to thrive as a student. The burden of six years of social ostracism had been lifted. During recess I would alternate before playing incredibly violent games of soccer, and hanging out with the schools resident genius. He was also a bit of an outcast, but in contrast to myself he had always excelled in school and had actually skipped a grade. We would talk about classical music, science, video games, and other generally nerdy topics.
At this time I was very interested in drawing and began to garner some accolades for my work. I was urged by a couple of my teachers to apply to the local arts school and would have gotten in if my academics were higher.
Junior high was embarked upon with great optimism. The end of grade six had been good for me, and I presumed this would only continue. In a sense it did. My grades began to improve dramatically, with math, science, and music being my strongest suits. Socially, however, I was just as awkward as ever. This was not helped by the fact I was a closeted trans girl forced to endure the horrors boy's gym class and the expectation of adolescent machismo, but I think there was more to it than that.
I honestly resented my peers by this point as, so far as I was concerned, they were all superficial idiots, preoccupied with fashion, sports, and the social pecking order. They were disruptive and disrespectful to my teachers and prone to crass outbursts. It was like they had no clue that we were actually there to learn. I thought there was something seriously wrong with them, that I had somehow stumbled into a den of exceptional stupidity. I would later realize that they were just typical teenagers.
I spent my lunch hour pacing around the school grounds while eating a sandwich. I would then go to the library and read. Somehow I attracted a couple of social outcasts who I guess you could call friends, but I never felt any real kinship with them. I merely tolerated them because they weren't part of the dominant social order.
I mustn't make out that it was all bad though. I really did enjoy a lot of classes. I just kept to myself and did my work. In math I would even finish my work before class let out and take extra assignments to fill my time. At the end of junior high I was even given the "hardest working" award by school council.
It's worth noting that at the beginning of junior high I developed a debilitating stutter. I could barely articulate a sentence. This certainly didn't help my social standing. My stutter would continue to plague me through junior high, and (to a lesser degree) through high school, before mostly dissipating in grade 12. Sometimes it relapses, but not to the same degree.
High school was a relief as I finally went to that art school I mentioned earlier. The social atmosphere was totally different, and I actually found myself wanting to make friends. I graduated junior high as an honor student and enrolled into an IB science and mathematics. I was not able to keep my grades high enough to maintain these classes, but I graduated with respectable marks, over all.
I did have one good friend in high school, and several other friends by proxy, but I outside of that I found socializing difficult. I would want to talk to people, but find myself physically incapable of doing so. It felt like my feet would freeze to the floor or my voice would catch in my throat. It was horrible.
Then factor in mounting gender dysphoria. Puberty was mutating me into some mannish monstrosity and I was having serious trouble coping. I could go into greater depth, but that isn't the focus of this forum .Suffice to say, it precipitated much of my depression, especially in grade 12.
Through junior high and high school I maintained relations with my two good friends from childhood and formed a band with one of them. My after school life was pretty normal in this respect. I even went to a couple of parties.
My love life was almost non-existent. A couple of girls kind of forced themselves on me in high school, and I played along, but I was pretty much clueless about what to do. More than anything I was worried about offending them somehow. The whole experience was more awkward than enjoyable. I never went on a date, and mostly avoided dances. My parents thought I was gay, which wasn't exactly correct.
Let's see, what else?
- I spent hours every day shaking things. Eventually I settled on a dog collar. My parents made it very clear that they didn't want me doing this so I hid it from them well into my 20s. Maybe they thought I was playing with toys or reading, but usually I was just stimming my brain out.
- My father enrolled me in Scouts. I appreciated getting to go camping, but I hated being forced to socialize with people I wanted nothing to do with. I also hated the gruff boorish men who served as leaders for Scouts and Venturers.
- When we were about 12 my friends felt the need to teach me how to swear. I gave it my best shot, but they said that I just sounded like I was playing back movie clips.
- Make believe play was never a problem for me. My friends and I made up some pretty fantastic worlds together. This casts doubt on me being an aspie, but I am glad I have those memories.
- I could never get why friends "rag" on each other. I mean, if you like somebody then why would you insult them? I always felt hurt by this, but now realize it is typical homosocial behaviour. I still don't agree with it.
Anyway; I'll leave it at that. I could probably think of more.
Thanks for bringing this up, Southern Discomfort. My psychiatrist wants to know more about my childhood. For whatever reason I always go blank when I am being interviewed. This exercise will really help for my next session. I hope your session goes well also.=)
