The Last Five Years

Five years. I’ve grown up alot since I was diagnosed with autism at the age of 19. I’ve grown in some areas of communication, organization, speaking for myself, etc. but in others, I still struggle. I still feel lost and out of control at times. Of course, that is probably because I was officially diagnosed as an adult and misdiagnosed for so many years. Either way, I hope this is an encouragement for some and an eye opener for others on the hidden struggles of those on the spectrum. Because this is goin to be as real and as unedited as it gets.

Idk where to even begin. I still remember being 19 and sitting across from my parents as the three of us heard from the doctor on the psych floor of our local hospital as he tries to explain the one thing that I thought would put some clarity into this world. Clarity? Yes. Help? No. There was no help that my parents or I could find for adults on the autism spectrum. So, I’m just left here, in the dark with a dim light of hope called “Someday”. Someday, there’ll be answers. Someday, I’ll find out why it took the doctors so dang long to get things right. Someday, I’ll be able to have friends who don’t care that I burst out singing at random times. Someday…….but sadly, that day, may never come and I can live with that. I think that part of it is that I’ve worked so, so hard to not let my autism show, mainly because I knew I was different and an outsider to so many people that I knew. Since I was undiagnosed for so long anyway I really don’t know what is the rules of society and what isn’t. I’m always scatter-brained, always looking for the new things (mostly electronically based) I jump at the most random stuff that doesn’t bother anyone else, and can only tolerate certain things when music is involved.

I’m a  freak, I’m a monster. I’m like a soldier without any armor. My best friend had four legs and a tail. When she died I did all I could do to not scream and yell. It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t dead but asleep on my bed, so why am I crying and shedding these tears? They’re not gone but in my head. Alive in memories  and moments that my brain has stored instead. It hurts so much but why can’t anyone see? Accept the real me instead of what they want me to be. I blare my music in my ears and on the radio, so I can get thru life without a “Hey yo” I keep telling myself that I want a friend, but Christ is there, he says “I understand”. I wanna believe it but wonder why me when my body acts up and freaks out. I hate this. The jabbing from my childhood never left, only changed. Gone from name-callin and exclusions to truth-lying and door walkin. I get told that my life is perfect but no one sees the true lines behind these curtains. My depression hits and there’s no relief, anxiety attacks with no reprieve. I want it stopped, but no it stays. I ask for help and only get “nays”, I’m on my own, protecting myself, built high walls of iron and steel that arrows would break as they fell. I may get told to stop this stressin, but I got a confession, it’s not an obsession, its real, almost like an NF Therapy Session

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