myresilientheart

[myresilientheart]

Autism

I was diagnosed with Autism two days before I turned 36. It was a slap in the face. It was validating. It was everything at once. I finally made since to myself. The abuse I suffered across my life finally made sense. The slap in the face? That’s because I grew up with a sister with BPD and FAS. She was violent and erratic. I spent nights sleeping in the back of the van while my parents tried to find her when she ran away from whatever treatment facility she was in. My dad was supposed to go to a field trip with me in middle school. I was so excited because we were going to a Longhorn football game. The night before the game my sister got in a fight with my parents. I don’t mean an argument. I mean axe marks on the door in our storage unit where she swung at my dad. And then later, he tripped running after her down the hill behind our house and got injured. Too injured to go on the field trip with me. My mom went instead. My whole childhood was like that. Abuse, fear, letdowns, and anger. Whether I was sleeping in the backseat of the van or crying while hiding in my room, I was alone. No one saw me. My parents and therapists have told me the same thing, “unfortunately when there’s a child with special needs like that in the family, they tend to get all the attention.” So now, what does my diagnosis mean for that? That’s the slap in the face. But I did have special needs, I was just easy to cast aside and easy to overlook. Why was no one looking out for me or protecting me? My whole life has been full of trauma because no one noticed me, no one protected me, no one cared. I’ve just been alone, out in the world trying to figure things out on my own. I’ve been in countless abusive relationships. I’ve been sexually assaulted and harassed. I’ve been drugged and raped. All because I didn’t know and I didn’t understand. Sometimes I wonder what life would’ve been like if someone noticed me. If I had gotten that diagnosis earlier. But I don’t live there too long because what’s done is done. Still, I find myself wanting to post on social media something like: “I have autism. So for those of you that think I’m weird or rude or judge me, that’s why.” I finally have a why. When I was 14, my boyfriend was 19. I didn’t know why it was weird. I didn’t know why I shouldn’t marry him when I was old enough. I didn’t know I could leave him when he was abusive. I didn’t know I could have said no to the wedding when I knew it was wrong. And 5 years later when he was put in prison for child pornography, I didn’t know why it was weird for me to visit him and was the only one that believed he was innocent. Now everything is starting to make sense. That last one is rough though. Like, oh. I was his first victim wasn’t I? He groomed me and used me. Those realizations, the ones that everyone else around me could see, are the ones that leave me mortified. That boy in 8th grade that wanted to see my underwear. I didn’t know it was malicious. I didn’t know he was taking advantage of me. I thought he, the popular guy, liked me. Right. I’m an idiot. Except I’m not. I’m autistic. I’m not stupid. I’m actually really intelligent. I just don’t understand people. I don’t understand their intentions. I don’t understand subtleties. I don’t understand small talk or how to maintain relationships. Being diagnosed at 36 makes me want to crawl into a hole. It’s like waking up and realizing a lifetime of mistakes and there’s so much shame. I know it’s going to take a while to process this. I’m posting this because I have always felt alone, and if I can help even one person feel less alone in their experiences, that’s enough for me.