Antares
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2024
- Messages
- 209
Something came up with the student tutors about a song and short video I had made (which depicted me singing a song about how Nazis were lame cowards and Hitler was an incomprehensible stimulant addict). I found it for all of them, and off-handedly mentioned I made the video the day I was diagnosed with autism. They just said "that checks out." But I think they missed the part where I said I was raging and mourning my entire life up until that moment and had to get the energy out some type of way.
The thing is, being diagnosed with ASD when you're in your late 20s fucking sucks. There are almost no services they can provide for you if you're a generally competent person. There's therapy, but my previous blog will show some of my issues with therapy. I'm skeptical of how much it can help at this late stage anyway. This is the key problem. I was screened for these sorts of disorders multiple times as a child, and there was just a constant failure on everyone's side to actually follow up and DO the testing. Everyone fucking thought I had it, but I guess they don't make an IEP for people who are just majorly depressive and merely "suspected" to be on the spectrum.
I left the testing in my late 20s crying with grief over what my life could have been like instead, how much fucking sorrow and difficulties could have been avoided. I left the testing site also quivering with rage at how they had let me down at every single point when they should have been taking me aside. Everyone knew I wasn't fucking normal. But they couldn't treat me that way without a diagnosis, and nobody bothered to respond to even my mother's requests about follow up from screenings to get the actual testing done. For all I know, she barely tried and failed me as well. What did I know? I was a child.
I went home so completely full of these horrible feelings of how let down I had been in even just this one aspect. I went home and had to do something to get my energy dealt with. I ripped out the pages of Mein Kampf and poured candle wax all over it to satisfy the part of my that was enraged. I wanted to burn the book entirely, but burning a book in an apartment's walk-in closet didn't seem smart. I sang a silly song mocking Nazis and Hitler while ripping the pages in order to satisfy the part of me that was mourning my own Self.
Despite having no access to the supports that could have had me develop in a more positive way had I got diagnosed early, things happened which could have prevented me from graduating, and then I immediately came realize I was woefully below the standards society had set for me because no amount of intelligence or facts could fix what I was lacking. My life did get better after the diagnosis, for sure. But that was through a coincidence that ended my highly problematic and dangerous coping mechanism of etizolam addiction, and the brute force of a special program for "disabled" people (I don't feel disabled, though, so this never felt right) to bypass the interview process and just try out the job for a certain amount of hours.
I only remember the day I was diagnosed being the same as the day I made that stupid video defacing Mein Kampf while singing about Nazis being losers because it was kind of one of the lowest moments of my life. To just have everyone tell me, "yes, actually, we all failed you. This is why you're so fucked up. Sadly we can't go back in time and help you develop in a more typical way. You're just kinda fucked, sorry."
That leaves me with nothing but a shield I feel disgusted to even use. I wish I could just get caught up in the goofiness of the song and video like everyone else was able to. But its tie to that day kind of ruins it for me. In the actual song with that melody, rather than this joke version, the lyrics are about a deep shame. The kind of shame of who you are at the core of your very being.
Does that mean that I am, at least in part, ashamed of my autism? Yes. Yes it kinda fucking does. It may well be a big factor in my inability to want to stay in this life. How could I possibly have the perspective of those lucky ones that love that about themselves? To me it's the fucking curse that nobody bothered to cure when they had the chance, and now it's embedded into my fucking soul.
The thing is, being diagnosed with ASD when you're in your late 20s fucking sucks. There are almost no services they can provide for you if you're a generally competent person. There's therapy, but my previous blog will show some of my issues with therapy. I'm skeptical of how much it can help at this late stage anyway. This is the key problem. I was screened for these sorts of disorders multiple times as a child, and there was just a constant failure on everyone's side to actually follow up and DO the testing. Everyone fucking thought I had it, but I guess they don't make an IEP for people who are just majorly depressive and merely "suspected" to be on the spectrum.
I left the testing in my late 20s crying with grief over what my life could have been like instead, how much fucking sorrow and difficulties could have been avoided. I left the testing site also quivering with rage at how they had let me down at every single point when they should have been taking me aside. Everyone knew I wasn't fucking normal. But they couldn't treat me that way without a diagnosis, and nobody bothered to respond to even my mother's requests about follow up from screenings to get the actual testing done. For all I know, she barely tried and failed me as well. What did I know? I was a child.
I went home so completely full of these horrible feelings of how let down I had been in even just this one aspect. I went home and had to do something to get my energy dealt with. I ripped out the pages of Mein Kampf and poured candle wax all over it to satisfy the part of my that was enraged. I wanted to burn the book entirely, but burning a book in an apartment's walk-in closet didn't seem smart. I sang a silly song mocking Nazis and Hitler while ripping the pages in order to satisfy the part of me that was mourning my own Self.
Despite having no access to the supports that could have had me develop in a more positive way had I got diagnosed early, things happened which could have prevented me from graduating, and then I immediately came realize I was woefully below the standards society had set for me because no amount of intelligence or facts could fix what I was lacking. My life did get better after the diagnosis, for sure. But that was through a coincidence that ended my highly problematic and dangerous coping mechanism of etizolam addiction, and the brute force of a special program for "disabled" people (I don't feel disabled, though, so this never felt right) to bypass the interview process and just try out the job for a certain amount of hours.
I only remember the day I was diagnosed being the same as the day I made that stupid video defacing Mein Kampf while singing about Nazis being losers because it was kind of one of the lowest moments of my life. To just have everyone tell me, "yes, actually, we all failed you. This is why you're so fucked up. Sadly we can't go back in time and help you develop in a more typical way. You're just kinda fucked, sorry."
That leaves me with nothing but a shield I feel disgusted to even use. I wish I could just get caught up in the goofiness of the song and video like everyone else was able to. But its tie to that day kind of ruins it for me. In the actual song with that melody, rather than this joke version, the lyrics are about a deep shame. The kind of shame of who you are at the core of your very being.
Does that mean that I am, at least in part, ashamed of my autism? Yes. Yes it kinda fucking does. It may well be a big factor in my inability to want to stay in this life. How could I possibly have the perspective of those lucky ones that love that about themselves? To me it's the fucking curse that nobody bothered to cure when they had the chance, and now it's embedded into my fucking soul.
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