Picture the scene. A fourteen-year-old girl sits in a waiting room with her parents beside her. She's slim, with dark hair and glasses, and wears her school uniform neatly. She's called into a room, sat in a chair, and asked a series of questions about her life, schooling, and friendships. Half an hour later, she goes back into the waiting room and cries.
That girl was me, and I'd just been told I was adopted. I'd also just found out I might have Autism Spectrum Disorder, or Asperger's Syndrome as it used to be known (more on that next week).
Fast forward six years, and I'm back in another waiting room. This time, I'm twenty years old. Still got dark hair and glasses, but I'm in jeans and a hoodie, an engagement ring firmly fixed on my left hand. I've been engaged for 2 years at this point, to a man I will never marry. I'm lost, I'm scared, and I'm looking for answers.
I was twenty years old when I was first diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. 27th February 2012. My biological mother's 36th birthday, so I'll never forget it. I'd been looking for answers for a good couple of months, but my workplace had finally forced me to seek a diagnosis. That and my adoption file, which I'd received about a month prior to the diagnosis.
After the diagnosis, I didn't really know what to feel. On the one hand, I felt vindicated and happy that I'd got answers. On the other, I wanted to cry and scream and rant. It felt unfair to be told I had what felt like a life sentence - a lifelong condition that will never get better or worse. It will just ... be. Forever in the background, always niggling at my brain, but never quite taking over. It's taken me nearly six years to "come to terms" with the diagnosis and the stigma attached to it. To this day, I sometimes still wish I didn't have Asperger's because of how hard it is to integrate with a world that just isn't designed for my brain.
So what's it like for me as an Aspie? Um ... it's hard. Really hard. I have a few friends I trust with my life, I have a fantastic little boy, and I have my cats. I've got a great job and a flat that is mine, and that's it. Changes of routine scare me, loud noises overwhelm me, and crowds are my worst nightmare. I like going out, but not on my own, and if I do decide to socialise, it's usually with people I know and trust. I have a wonderful knack for attracting arseholes - seriously, my last ex-boyfriend emotionally abused me to the point where I lost my entire identity in the space of 8 months - and if you want an honest answer, for gawd's sake don't ask me.
There are wonderful sides to being an Aspie though - the sense of humour, the quirky way of seeing the world, the ability to understand abstract concepts and take them that little bit further ... it's not all bad. Yes, it can be incredibly hard to deal with, but it's also one of the best things about me. I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.
Dealing with a diagnosis is hard. Really hard. I ended up questioning my entire life history - whether or not I'd been living a lie, if my parents could have had me diagnosed sooner ... it felt like one big April Fool's Day prank that had gone horribly wrong, and I was stuck in the middle of it all. To this day, I sometimes wonder if I'll wake up one day and not be autistic. Never happens, but sometimes I do hope I wake up neurotypical. Half the time I honestly do my best not to think about it because, if I did, I'd go nuts.
Being raised to feel like I was neurotypical has definitely given me a more "on the fence" way of looking at things, too. Sometimes I can see the Aspie point of view, sometimes I can see the NT point of view, and sometimes I've got no idea what anyone's talking about! I do sometimes wonder how I'd be if I'd known about the Asperger's from day one - would I be better equipped to cope with the world? - and the same for if I'd never found out. It really is one of those million-dollar questions that I guess I'll never know the answer to.
Asperger's can be a beautiful, wonderful, crazy-arse rollercoaster ride. But trust me, it's worth every second.
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