L.A.D.

 My diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome came at the age of 20. I had lived all those years knowing, or at least assuming, something was a little different in me, but I never knew why. Beginning in pre-school, my dad was always told that, "Aaron doesn't socialize too well with the other kids, but that's just because he's smarter than the other kids."

The teachers told me that as well so I never thought anything about why I didn't have friends in the truest of sense. "If I am smarter, why would I want them as friends?" is what my school aged mind thought.

As years went on I began to wonder why I was different. My social issues, and life long struggle with time (eight hours in school was too much for my mind) led me to be home schooled and I wound up not going to high school. I often wonder how big of a train wreck high school and I would have been, or would I have found my place? That question will never be answered.

With each year I became a bit more withdrawn. I had a girl friend (yesterday marked six years since I last saw her) but the relationship was getting frayed. I wanted a connection with other people, but knew I didn't have any. I was very confused because I heard people talk about that bond with others, but I had never experienced it and I knew that it wasn't just because I was smarter. If anything, I was feeling as if I had no intelligence because the only thing I wanted, the only thing was to feel that “something” that I saw other people feeling.

Slowly I drifted further from the world around me, and a line of events happened that alerted my dad to the possibility of Asperger’s syndrome. At the time I was immune to the name of autism because I was so withdrawn. On a cloudy, cold, and windy December day I was assessed.

Going into the assessment I wrote a long document that was essentially my life story in ten pages. I was hoping to avoid conversation with the assessor, but my efforts were in vain.

After the assessment and evaluation it was clear and I had a diagnosis of being on the autism spectrum. Autism? Spectrum? Being new to the world of the autism spectrum I had no idea what the word spectrum meant, and after I was told I had Asperger’s syndrome I went to the internet to see what, exactly, it was.

There were answers for sure, but I also had fears. All those years of not connecting now had a name. I wasn't 100% at fault, so in a way a burden was lifted from me. I had thought that I was simply unlikable. I had thought that I was either hideously ugly, rude, or mean and didn't know why.

Having the diagnosis though also led to a depression. Reading the prognosis and the difficulties of being on the spectrum made me believe that there was no hope. I got into the trap of thinking that, "Since I've had problems connecting with others, and because I have this label, why should I even try?"

That trap led to 15 months of pure unabated depression and self-loathing. My life after diagnosis was… My life? I didn't have a life. I was merely coasting wondering why this had to happen to me.

Eventually all that hatred manifested itself in my ability to write, and I was reminded of that yesterday when I realized that yesterday was the six year mark of the last time I saw my girl friend. After my diagnosis I tried to feel that bond. In my desperation I wanted to see if she cared about me, so my solution was to break up with her, on Christmas, via text message. In my mind she would simply call me and protest this and all would be fine. I was wrong.

After those 15 months and after I started to write I realized that I am unique, as we ALL are. Just because there are pages on the Internet that stated that I will never form those bonds doesn't mean I can't. I may feel them in a different way, but there is always hope!

The trap I fell into is a common one for parents of young children who are newly diagnosed. I went into a denial of sorts in my 15 months of agony, but for a parent, denial is a dangerous world. If Asperger’s syndrome would have been a diagnosis when I was in school (Asperger’s Syndrome entered the DSM in 1994) and I received therapy there is no telling how much progress I could have made. The earlier a child gets therapy the greater the possibility of them being freed from the chains of isolation. This isn't to say that it is ever too late, but the clock is ticking on making the monumental gains.

What I want everyone to know is that my L.A.D. (see title for this blog) was not a good one. Denial, depression, and self-hatred won't get a person far.

Remember though that my diagnosis was personal and I am not a parent and do not fully understand what it is like to hear that your child is on the spectrum. I can only imagine what it would be like. If I had been diagnosis earlier, I would have wanted my dad to do what he could, and not to panic (I don't like panic that much). Knowing what I know now, the autism spectrum is not the end of the world. The generalizations I read on the Internet shortly after my diagnosis scared me to no end. To think that I would never amount to anything and to never have friends was very painful.

Sure, I may have struggles, but I also have extreme joys. These may or may not be on the same page as the rest of the world, but I just wish it wouldn’t have taken 15 months to realize that my life was not over. Time is valuable and can never be returned, be it the agony of being on the spectrum, or the time of early intervention, time is valuable and the trap I fell into robbed me of it. There is hope, there can be happiness, but for that to happen those impacted by Autism, individuals and families, must get past the symptoms found on the Internet and see and experience the outcomes of treatment. Time is everything. Don't fall into this trap like I did.