I’ve had a whirlwind of emotions these past few weeks.  I’ve always known I was not quite like other people and I don’t mean in a way that makes me unique.  I was different.  From the time I was little I’ve adjusted myself to match others and fit in.  Then I finally get diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome at 31 years old. 

I was walking on air when I found out.  There was no news that could have pleased me more.  I had an answer to a life-long, frequently debilitating problem that I could now work with and explore.  Every day I find new meanings to the many bandages I’ve been placing on my personality.  Today I discovered that it’s an Aspie trait to hear music in rhythms’ where there is none.  Yesterday I discovered why I like bold colors.  I’m literal-minded.  Every time someone laughs because I take sarcasm literally I want to hide.  I’m clumsy and uncoordinated.  It’s uncomfortable being touched.   I rock myself when I get upset.  These are the tip of the iceberg. 

It’s becoming more and more apparent to me that this is a real handicap I’ve been handling and covering up.  I turn to being quiet because I don’t know how to talk to people and because if I did I’d speak out of turn.  I was diagnosed with depression due to the responsibility of constantly keeping up that wall.  It’s a wall between the real me and the world.  It’s so exhausting I sometimes have no time for anything else.  There are some situations that are too much to handle and it is wonderful to know that I can explain to someone why. 

I knew something was very odd about me a few years ago when I took anti-depressants.  I’ve always known I was odd but started to suspect it was bigger than my grief when more and more of what I can see as Aspie traits came out.  I no longer had constant stress alarms going off in my head to guard everything I do.  In that sense anti-depressants made me odder. 

The adventure doesn’t stop there. Asperger Syndrome never fully explained my trouble in school.  The whole purpose of getting tested was to do well in school.  I was tested two weeks ago for other issues.  They came back saying I have ADHD and depression.  The depression is probably brought on by the fact that I’m constantly trying to go to exhaustive measures to look and act normal.  On one hand it works because most people don’t believe I could be on the spectrum or are surprised by it.  On the other hand the only response our community has is to learn to trick people better. 

The Psychologist I’m seeing told me that most people are fine with one diagnosis but struggle when you add more to the mix.  I thought I would be different.  I want to do whatever I need to be good at school.   But I’m no different.  Logically I know ADHD is cool because I can pop a pill to help with concentration where most Aspies have nothing.  But when I read the report and saw all of this and a few of my other tendencies I went straight into being depressed.  I shouldn’t need time to accept this.  I’ve waited so long for answers.

It’s not the diagnosis itself that is upsetting me.  I keep going over in my mind all these times I was ashamed, embarrassed, horrified and depressed because of traits I never knew were so far out of my control.  I can’t wrap my mind around the gravity of 30 years of trying and failing to meet expectations socially and educationally.  I imagine people want me to go on the way I have been but that is a nightmare.  I’m in a place where I’m expected to learn to cope and few people can understand how it’s been with these things together. 

If I had Asperger’s and was smart then at least I’d be intelligent.  If I had ADHD and was social then at least I’d get people.  It got to a point for a long time I didn’t even want to see my reflection.  I wanted so desperately to be someone else.  I know my limitations and I know they often fall short.  I’ve cried more because I couldn’t cope with how I am than I have over the loss of my children.  It’s hurt me that much.

   

I’ve learned this much.  There is value in failure.  I know determination.  I don’t expect the world to make exceptions.  I know a real sense of accomplishment because I don’t know that feeling very often.  I’m not as critical of others.  If I fail I’m capable of admitting I failed.  What is more difficult to learn is the concept that I will never be able to catch up to people in certain ways.  Educationally I’ll never do great at Math or grammar.  I’m always going to take more time to do tasks and will have to study more to pass exams.  Socially I’m always going to have to do everything possible to blend into the group.  I won’t know what to say if I could speak my mind.  If I learn how to be acceptable to others they may never see what an effort it is and never accept that I have Asperger’s.  I’ve just found out and there have been a few people who reject that idea already. 

It’s such a big deal for me to succeed at something normal.  It’s taken me four years to get through two years of college.  I’m about to fail to get my Associates Degree by one credit.  I am walking down the aisle and retaking that class later.  I shouldn’t care but it’s monumental for me.  Most of my life I’ve spent thinking I could never graduate from college.  I’ve never wanted anything more than to be successful. 

Sometimes I have no choice but to fail.  I think people don’t understand that you could put in a lot of effort and fail something multiple times, maybe even never meet your goal. I can talk about all kinds of personal issues. I'll over-share with anyone willing to listen (or read) but the two things that are hard for me to think about let alone talk about are failing in school and having others judge me harshly when they don’t know where I’m coming from.  Judgment is how I measure my level of normalcy and I’ll always wonder if I’m being whiny or do I get some reprieve now that I know these things?  Do I have to keep on going like I have been?  Should I be ashamed to take advantage of a quiet testing area when no one else gets that or should I be thankful?  Since I want to be so normal should I expect people around me to judge my actions against those of everyone else or do I get some leeway?

Talking about those things is like giving a speech naked. The very thought that someone could take that lightly or make jokes about disabilities or the short bus has always made me ill. The words stupid and crazy and all variations thereof are like my own version of the N word. It's the worst kind of slander. Judging a person because they are mentally challenged in any way is deplorable.

That personality could be hiding so much wisdom that people are too opinionated to ever see.  Just because they can't remember words, spell, speak or function on any other level does not make them any less of a person.   I’ve always been afraid others see me as a flake because I don’t get jokes and say the wrong things so I pretend to laugh and am shy.  I misunderstand so much that I only suggest something when I’m 100% positive I have it right and even then I’m only right about 60% of the time.  I hide that personality.  I hurt so much when I hear those comments about others being stupid or idiotic. I know they aren't intended for me but when I hear that stuff it's hard because I can hear the judgment in their tone while I also know that if they knew me they might say the same thing.

I like to believe I have wisdom.  There are experiences I’ve had which have taught me to view the world differently.  I have come to accept that I have diversity in my life but that is a gift.  I’ve dedicated my life to understanding people and trying to be accepted by them.  I live to be pleasing but along the way I learned about the human condition from a unique perspective. 

It used to bother me that I couldn’t ignore what people thought of me.  People told me not to care what opinions people have.  I told my Mother I was frustrated because I depended so much on others to give me praise.  She told me in response, “That was how you survived as a kid.”  I was so different that I became what they were to blend in.  I have never stopped doing that.   

It was so bad I realized if you took a drink of water I’d take a drink of water.  I became a parrot.  I wouldn’t drive past a friend’s house if I wasn’t going to stop even if it was on the way home.  I couldn’t run the chance that they would think I was a stalker.   My mantra for years was, “don’t say anything to anyone, ever, under any circumstances!”  to keep me from ever saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.  I wouldn’t go to the doctor unless I had to because I didn’t want him to think I was a hypochondriac if I had strange symptoms.

 

I have built a glass house.  I try to look normal from every angle.  I don’t know who is going to believe what about me so I do what I can to make sure they have positive opinions.  I build every defense I can think of but assume you still see how flimsy a defense it really is.  I will do everything I can to do what you want even if it costs me.   When I say that it costs me I mean I’m trying to please everyone all the time but I don’t need a wise man to say that is not possible.  I don’t let my guard down because I have to protect myself from you.

Four Infertile Friends

I have a notebook to write about these women.  I am falling in love with each one.  You don’t know them yet but I want to introduce you. 

Grace Carr is the young wife of an aspiring politician.  You’d assume she has it all.  She’s beautiful, young, wealthy, social with a hunky husband and all the attention she could want.  They tell her she has plenty of time to have kids but she has a secret that will cost her everything.  Does she leave her lifestyle to save her husband from ruin?  Does she stand up for her ideals even if it means his career will be permanently tarnished, chastise her husband for the choices he helped her to make when he knew the cost and tell the world the truth of her new dysfunction?  Both choices could leave her in ruin.  Only one path is politically correct.  The other will set her on the path to freedom.  Could she handle that freedom when it goes against his politics and her religion?

Jada Miller is a woman scorned by life.  After a long battle against pregnancy loss she is widowed young, loses her adopted daughter and has a lonely future ahead of her.  Her many losses have broken her and given her wisdom beyond her years.  People don’t appreciate that wisdom.  They leave her isolated in her grief.  She is not responsible for any pain caused to her family but she hears the assuming whispers of others who think so much could never happen to a person undeserving.  Can one stranger heal a past full of so many dark memories?  How does she grow after all this loss?  Will she be strong enough to allow the love of another man into her heart?  Could she stand to try again?

Cynthia Barker is a sassy independent woman.  She transferred across the country to live with her boyfriend of 6 years.  He never wanted kids and she thought she was infertile from a surgery she’d had years earlier.  They were a career-minded couple with the nice house, expensive cars and many expensive creature comforts.  Then she got pregnant and he abandoned her with a mortgage and a car payment she couldn’t afford.  Her friend moved in after she sold most of her belongings because she had nowhere to go.   She finds out her baby is sick and the choice she makes leads her to road of activism for families everywhere.    Her boss fired her but no one will recognize that she was fired unjustly, based on the trauma she just experienced. What is that choice that changes so many?  How could one woman stand up to feminists and politicians alike and win? 

Alicia Attali is a heavier woman with endometriosis.  Her added weight in a circle of beautiful people creates self-esteem issues that make her want to eat more.  She tries to be good-humored for her husband.  She laughs a lot and privately she cries a lot.  Every month she wants to please her husband.  She wants to be pregnant more than anything but even with the help of drugs she never is.  It’s been almost a year that she’s been taking the drugs and it was two years before that when she started trying.  She wants to do more but her doctor keeps telling her to lose weight.  He doesn't want to put her health at risk so he sends her to a nutritionists and she sees a personal trainer.  She tries not to binge. She’ll do so well and then someone will say something to her that will make her despair and she’ll cry and eat from shame.  This is how she learned to cope as a child when the teasing began and now it’s ruining her life and her marriage.  During a charity ball  she meets Grace.  They don’t know it yet but they will save each other from ruin.

It’s a story of friendship and a story of the hardship it is to become a parent.  These women wade the dark waters of infertility and live to tell about it.  They come together to stand up against a world that would try to silence them and the world is made better for it.  It’s about the power that women have and what can happen when they harness their voices in the right way.  There is love, passion and heartbreak.  You will be wildly attached to these women and realize they could be your neighbor, co-worker or even your best friend.

Time is Relative

When I was little I got sick; really sick.  I went into a coma and I was given 6 hours to live.  A wonderful doctor was flown in from a research hospital who saved my life and here I am today.  I left the experienced changed.

 A seed of doubt was planted in my tiny mind.  It has grown over the years into a tree with many branches.  I started noticing clocks and the ticking sound they made.  It made me wonder if I was really out of a coma at all.  Was the clock mocking me?  Was I ticking down to the hour I would wake up and everything I know would be gone or changed?  Was my life from a lie?

I asked the fundamental question.  Can people in a coma dream?  Now I know you have to reach a state of REM and they must dream sometimes because if you don’t you will die.

As I grew the idea got more complex.  Could your mind create people with independent personalities and backgrounds?  Could you create a world in your mind?  I can’t be the only person who’s ever wondered if I am really a bit actor in someone else’s dream.   When they wake up will I cease to exist or do our thoughts have the power to bring these dreams into creation?  If that is the case there are a lot of worlds out there where I can fly and others where zombies chase me or houses consume me.   

There is one thing Inception shared with this concept.  In dreams time is relative.  You feel you’ve lived years and it’s only been minutes.  It could also feel like moments and you’ve been out for 8 hours. 

After seeing that movie I watched one of the many science fiction films where astronauts’ are put into suspended animation and shot into space.  That opened a whole new branch of thought for me. 

We are so close to figuring out how to freeze a person and bring them back.  Call me optimistic but I can see that happening in this youngest generations’ lifetime.  I don’t see people discovering a way to travel faster than light soon.  I think “warp speed” is firmly in fiction.    But if we know it’s possible to freeze someone and send them back to life a light year is no obstacle.  By the time you make any significant discoveries and return home no one will remember you left and people will have evolved significantly.    But with endless funding and interest this could be possible.

If you are in stasis for thousands of years traveling trillions of miles away would you dream?  If you could I imagine your mind would starve for interaction.  If it’s possible to create a whole world where life exists at such a relative pace you could watch a world come into creation, flourish, interact with generations of lives and manipulate it like a god.  It wouldn’t take long for you to forget you aren’t really a part of that world.  What would you think as you lived on while whole civilizations rise and crumble around you?  Would you assume you are god? 

   

You wouldn’t know how fragile your whole foundation is.  You would live never knowing that you would wake up and it would all be gone. 

When you do wake up what kind of effect would that have on your mind?  Suddenly, you have a group of astronauts’ coming back to consciousness after thousands and perhaps millions or even billions of years in dream time.  Even if they do remember a life before they have to live knowing that everyone they ever cared about or talked to is dead aside from the few they are traveling with.  They are utterly alone where they used to be gods of their own universe. 

My husband told me I was fucked up.  He said if I ever wrote that into a novel everyone would hate me.  The main characters would all die lonely in the depths of space and even if they did make it home it would be to a foreign world that doesn’t know them.  I think it’s a cool idea even if it is depressing.