Monday, 30 July 2012
People often wonder why I don't discuss autism a lot. Or, they say I don't have autism, but I might have Asperger's or am faking it. Well, let me tell you something, you faker claimers: you don't know me.
You don't know that I got a diagnosis from UCLA, meaning Dr. Ritvo and B.J. Freeman. You don't know that I finally understood words when I was 8 or 9 years old. You don't know that I am 4 in my first memories. You don't know the struggles to maintain eye contact, or the bullying I endured until I graduated high school. You don't know the abuse I endured from my sisters, or the pain of losing my father when he was 54. You don't even know that my own father was among the faker claimers. He never accepted that I had autism, or that you could get back as much as I did growing up. Besides, I don't discuss autism a lot because those who read my blog posts probably already have a good idea what autism is - they or someone they know have it. Why discuss the drivel of autism when I can discuss my perspective on it?
Honestly, I know I am different. I know that there are a lot of things I am not good at. But now, I am losing my savanthood, the one thing I could bring to the table that people could enjoy. Honestly, I feel kind of dumb without my savanthood, but my mother praises it. It's kind of like I'm losing my smarts while becoming more sociable. It scares me. I used to be able to spell difficult words with ease. Now I have to look it up. I used to be able to remember anything I was told. Now, not so much. Will I lose my other basic faculties?
Of course, there is a very big reason my mother gave to me as to why I don't discuss autism too much: I am living a full and busy life. I stay home and take care of my aging mother full time, as well as go to my appointments, go grocery shopping, go to my therapy group, do the laundry, do household chores...I get the picture. I am a busy individual. It's not that sad of a reason, I think. It's because these things have to get done. I want a clean house and a good life, as much as I can get. So, how do you get a good life? By getting busy. At least someone as high functioning as me can get one. It's pretty boring when you go to a mall all day and can't buy anything. It's a good thing I've got a home and mother to take care of. It gives me a purpose. And a purpose can give you a pretty good reason not to dwell in autism.
Come back soon; my next topic: the Olympics!