#like once i got my autism evaluation papers back that said i had autism and said i also had indications of PTSD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autisticoddity · 3 years

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What was the process like, getting diagnosed with autism as a young adult? I'm a teen but I'm looking to get diagnosed when I can :> (which unfortunately won't be until I'm an adult bc Parents 😬)

great question! i feel this deserves some good detail, so warning, this is a long one!

It can go a few different ways, depending on where you live, and how good the mental health resources near you are, but for me, it was pretty easy. once i was confident about my suspicions, the first step was mentioning to my general family doctor during an appointment (doesn't have to be an appointment specifically for that, you can mention it during a checkup or a follow up for something else if you have some time afterwards) that i had suspicions i was autistic, and wanted to be evaluated.

she didn't ask questions really, just gave me a referral to a psychiatrist who could diagnose me, and wrote down the number in my appointment summary. (in some cases they can schedule the appointment for you, or in some cases in less supported areas, they may not have a referral, in which case you’ll need to find a psychiatrist who has experience with autism on your own, which you can find online)

the next part was the most, and really the only stressful part, scheduling, (make sure you have/know your insurance info before making the call) i just called the number, told them i got a referral from my doctor for an autism evaluation, and they walked me through setting up an appointment, only took a few simple questions.

a few weeks later, i went to my appointment. for this, you might want to come prepared, if only mentally. before your appointment, make sure to do some research, learn what traits of autism you display, and how they effect you. this can be stimming habits(any action you frequently do to give yourself mental stimulation, this can be anything from repetitive motions, rocking, random sounds/words, teething, or feeling specific textures with your fingers, for the purpose of emotional regulation or to help focus, i’ll go more in-depth on stimming later.) social difficulties, any triggers you may have, childhood signs you may have showed, emotional experiences such as if you have meltdowns or anxiety attacks and if so, what happens when you do, or on the opposite side, if you feel your emotions are less intense than most, and also if you have any strong or long-lasting special interests, such as a fandom, study subject, or hobby you are enthusiastically into. you dont absolutely need to know these things, but it will make it much easier to diagnose you, and help you feel more prepared for your appointment.

i feel it’s important to clarify though, while these are some of the more common, identifiable traits of autism, none of these exact traits i’ve mentioned are absolutely necessary to have in order to “count” as autistic, there is an incredible amount of variety in the ways autism can present, the many “symptoms” it can cause, and how different people are effected by the symptoms they experience, though i think the most common denominator between Autistics in my experience is just feeling like your brain works much differently than most people.

regardless of what traits you have, and how severely you experience them, visually obvious or seemingly small, your suspicions of autism can be and very often are still extremely valid. because it’s often right, many ASD communities recognize self diagnosis as being just as valid as a clinical diagnosis, and even if you aren’t autistic, getting properly evaluated will help you to understand yourself better. so there’s no shame in checking!

anyway, at the appointment, before you go in, they’ll have you fill out a questionnaire or two, mainly about your mental health, medical history, and social behaviors. then, you’ll go into the psychiatrist’s little office, and they’ll ask you about all these different traits i mentioned, it’ll be a lot of questions, but there’s no wrong answers. they’ll let you explain things you believe are related or feel wasn’t covered yet, and then they’ll check a few things about you physically, such as your reflexes, how your eyes track a moving point, other simple tests, and then they’ll test a few mental things like memory, and your ability to explain/understand the meaning of common sayings like “two birds with one stone.”

the appointment usually last about an hour, if you have a parent you feel comfortable with, it can be helpful to bring them as they can provide info about how others view your behavior, and details about your childhood, however it isn’t necessary. at the end, for me, the psychiatrist left for a moment to finish up my papers, and came back with the appointment summary, including my official Autism Spectrum Disorder diagnosis, and she told me a bit more about high functioning autism. she gave me some resources such as autism friendly education programs, good books about autism, and other helpful information/support, and said we’d have a follow up in a year to see how things are going. and that was it!

getting diagnosed was a very validating experience for me, and is a big step towards truly understanding yourself and your identity! if you’re a teen and want to get an appointment on your own, make sure to check your local laws on scheduling appointments, in some places you can schedule your own at 16, though the information is still sent to the parents usually, so be careful!

Thank you so much for the question, Anon! hope my answer was helpful!

-if you have any other questions about autism, send me an ask! :D

#autism #autistic adult #possibly autistic #actually autistic #advice #mental health #send me asks #ask #self diagnosed autism #diagnosis

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lucapevans · 4 years

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Reevaluated

INVOLVED: Ava M. Evans and Luca Evans TIME FRAME: Monday afternoon, January 20, 2020 LOCATION: Seattle Grace Hospital; Seattle, Washington SUMMARY: Luca gets evaluated for an updated medication.

Ava held Luca’s hand as they walked through the lobby of the hospital. She greeted her co-workers here and there, smiling at a few patients as she guided her son towards the elevators, to get him taken up to pediatrics. Pressing the button, she knelt down beside her son in her heels and held him by his shoulders. “Okay, now Luca are we going to put up a fight today?” she asked him softly, rubbing her hand over hair lovingly. “I really need you to be good today, after your appointment, I have a few patients to meet with, then we can go, okay?” she spoke to him.

Luca looked around the hospital as he and his mother ventured off to the destination they were scheduled to be. He held her hand sighing to himself as she stopped to speak to different people as well. As they got on the elevator he looked to her as she knelt down beside him and he looked away from her not saying anything to her at all. She was treating him like a baby and he hated it “I’m not a baby” he told her as he moved away from her, choosing to lean against the elevator wall instead. “I don’t want to be here” he said under his breath.

Sighing out, Ava rubbed her hand through Luca’s hair once more. “I know you’re not sweetheart but you haven’t shown signs of being a young man either, especially when you’re purposefully not taking your medication,” she informed him softly before she stood to her feet as the elevator doors opened and she stepped inside with Luca as he leaned against the wall. She frowned and reached into her purse, pulling out her iPad and handing it to him before she pressed 4 in the elevator, watching as she doors rolled closed and the elevator moved up.

“I don’t like the way that medicine makes me feel!” Luca vocalized to his mother as she moved onto the elevator with him. He watched as she offered her Ipad and he grabbed it happily typing in her passcode and unlocking the device before he swiped to find his favorite game.

Ava’s frown deepened and she shifted on her feet, her hand moving to her stomach as an uneasy feeling settled upon her. “Honey, that’s why we’re going to get your dosage updated. Taking the wrong dosage of medication can make you feel, well for lack of a better word, icky,” she explained to him gently as she rubbed her stomach. The doors opened and Ava stepped off the elevator and moved for the check-in desk, her hand on Luca’s shoulder guiding him along as he played on the iPad. “Hi,” Ava said sweetly to the young man behind the counter as she pulled her badge from the pocket of her white coat and slid it to the boy. “I have an appointment for my son today, Luca Evans,” she said just as Dr. Hunt was walking past and the man smiled at Ava. “Oh Ava perfect timing, I’m ready for Luca right now. We can all head on back!” the slightly older man said happily.

“Okay” Luca said bac to Ava as they continued to ride the elevator paying no real mind to her anymore. He had to beat his own high score, he had done so several times in the past and today would be no different. As they walked off the elevator he followed behind his mother as she guided him with her and he stood there silently.

Ava smiled at Dr. Hunt and guided Luca along, leading her son back to the room with Dr. Hunt. Entering the room, Ava sat her purse down and found herself sitting down in one of the tiny chairs at the table. Dr. Hunt sat as well and Ava looked to Luca, pulling the boy into her lap lovingly as she kissed the top of his head. “Sweetheart,” she said as she gently began to wiggle the iPad from his hands and placed it on the table before them. “Do you remember doctor Hunt?” she asked him sweetly. Dr. Hunt looked across the table at Luca after he spread out various papers and tests for the boy to go over. “Nice to see you again Luca,” he said to the little boy, holding his hand out to shake.

Luca looked at the screen intensely for a moment before his mother pulled it away and he looked back at her slightly. Looking to the man he nodded his head at his mother’s words “yes” he responded. As the man spoke Luca looked at him for a moment before he said, “Did you know that there is exactly 270 bones in the human body upon birth and as you age they fuse together and most adults like yourself have 206” he asked the man. “I bet you can’t list them all” he challenged.

Ava watched Luca closely as he spoke to Dr. Hunt and she chuckled softly, looking at Dr. Hunt expectantly. “Well,” she said waiting for her colleague to answer her son’s inquiry. Dr. Hunt looked between Luca and Ava and he chuckled himself. “You’re right Luca, I can’t list them all. Orthopaedics is not my specialty,” he said honestly. “But today, we’re here to talk about you,” he said with a smile. “Tell me about yourself Luca.”

Luca looked to his mother and then her ‘work friend’, before he smiled in triumph, he knew them all. Resting his hands on the table Luca shrugged at the man’s words “what about me?” he asked her. “I am autistic” he told the man “but you diagnosed me with that so you should now” he smirked as he drew imaginary pictures on the table. “Statistics show 1 in 59 children are born with autism” he told the man. “But I’m not autistic I just have a high I.Q.” he told the man. “I’m a kid Dr. Hunt, I like Star Wars, I love my parents, my siblings are my protectors, I love math and science. When I grow up, I am going to change the World” he said offering a smile “that’s what my Mom and Dad tells me….”

Rubbing Luca’s back softly, Ava let him speak and she tucked her lips in to bite back a laugh. Sometimes he was just too smart for his own good. Looking to her friend, she watched as his expression changes every few seconds before he looked at her, eyebrows to his hairline and Ava nodded at him knowingly. “Wow, Luca,” Dr. Hunt said as he let out a breath of shock. The child really had grown a lot since the last time they sat down together. It was very clear that his autism has grown with him as well through. “Do you have any friends?” Dr. Hunt asked and Ava shifted in her seat slightly, feeling a bit nauseous. She tried to fight it down but it was over powering and she wrapped her arm around Luca as she stood up quickly. She placed him down in the chair before she ran over to the trash can in the corner of the room, bending down slightly as she threw up into it.

Luca nodded his head at the man and he looked to his mother as she sat him down and moved to the trash can to throw up. “Mom?” he said a new distraction in front of him now.

Dr. Hunt stood up as Ava began to throw up in the trash can and he walked over to her. “Ava are you alright?” he asked her softly. Ava finished throwing up and she pulled herself together, wiping the corners of her mouth with her hand before she covered her mouth and said, “uh, I’m fine, I just don’t know what came over me,” she whispered softly as her mind began to run a mile a minute. Her stomach had been bothering her and she hadn’t really been feeling well since they had returned home from the Bahamas. “I’m fine,” she said again as she moved back over to her son, sitting down in the chair beside him as she grabbed her purse now, popping some gum into her mouth until she could get somewhere to brush her teeth in the building. Pulling her phone out, she began to scroll through her calendar. “I’m sorry you can continue,” she said looking to Dr. Hunt who was now sitting as well. “Luca, you’re friends… tell me about them...”

Luca watched his mom, curiosity written across his face before she returned to the seating area lowering herself into a spot. As the doctor spoke again he looked to him and nodded “Casey, Sunshine, and Timothy” he listed.

Ava looked through her calendar slowly, her eyes growing large as a realization stumbled upon her and she stood up quickly, the tiny seat falling back as she did. “I’m sorry,” she said “continue, I’ll be back,” she told them as she went rushing out of the room in her heels. She click-clacked down the hallway, rushing towards the front desk. She shooed one of the nurses aside and picked up the phone, dialing the extension by heart. “This is Natasha…” Natasha began on the phone and Ava quickly cut her off. “4th floor now! Get Naomi!”

#thread: reevaluated #thread #thread: ava mercedes

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introverted-slytherin-of-history · 7 years

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Scars of Memories (Vent)

So for a while, I’ve been hiding a lot of emotions. Probably since I was little. Well, I need to spill them all out, and what better way then tumblr? I really only realized it’s finally time for me to share these things because of tonight. My anxiety got really bad and well once it started to calm down, I just felt like maybe I should do this. I was suddenly inspired and so, well, here I go. Fasten your seat-belts, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride

First off, let me make this clear that my memory is not all that good, thanks a lot ADHD, and so I may not be able to get all the details in memories down. So some things may be incomplete or hazy. Don’t hold it against me. So….where to start. Well, I’ve always had problems with my parents. They’re amazing, sure, but they have made their mistakes. And one of the ones that affected me the most was how much they argued and still argue today. It got bad. The fights. The screaming. My mom threatening to leave. My dad saying he wouldn’t miss her if she left. Telling her to TAKE ME WITH HER. That really hurt me the most, because I felt unwanted. I only ever tried to stop it once, and it ended with me shaking and crying in my room. So I was too scared to try again. I am still worried that one day my mom will actually leave and pull me away from my father. And I’ll never see him again. I imagined divorce papers, I feared for my life. My mom said she might not be able to handle me on her own, which made me feel like a burden, and I feared I would be thrown into an orphanage. Oh god, it was bad. What made it even worse was that often the reason they would fight would be something related to ME. I thought I would tear my parents apart, and no kid should have to go through that.

Another thing is that my parents were very strict with punishment. Sometimes I would even feel isolated from others at times because of all these restrictions, and I was so stressed because I had no outlet, no way to relax. I couldn’t even see my friends outside of school sometimes. And my dad would scream at me a lot for some things. There was this one time that was by far the worse. I was getting evaluated by the child study team, and I said something that was supposed to be a funny family thing, but just made my dad sound like an idiot. He was so pissed off, he screamed so loud. I was so scared that I squeezed myself with my arms tightly and shook. He screamed more, asking if I was scared, or angry, or if I was going to attack him. I just barely got out that I was scared and ran to my room, slamming the door and hiding under my blanket in the bed. This was less than a year ago.

I also have issues with social anxiety. I’m constantly worried people will leave me, old and new friends alike. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I forget about them for a day and they get mad at me? What if I vent too much to them and they can’t handle it? His all runs through my head on a daily basis. A lot have friends have left me behind, so that’s probably why. My friend Aidan would hang with me all the time, LARPing and shit, we made up games, got creative with characters, and had fun. Then part of his house got burnt and he had to move further down town and so we rarely saw each other. He talked to me less and less, began to try to avoid me in public, and so we just grew apart. Stopped hanging out. It hurt because I wanted to be friends again, I did, but he didn’t. He acted like he was too cool for me, and that made me feel horrible. Another friend, Phoenix, didn’t purposefully abandon me but she had to move away in fourth grade. She tried to give me her number, but never gave me the full thing and I don’t want to have to go through so many numbers to find it. I don;’t have the time, what with school and all. And I can’t seem to find her name anywhere, I don’t know her address, I can’t find it in, like, number directories, and she was the greatest friend ever. It’s been about 6 years since I’ve last seen her. Sad, isn’t it? And then there’s Amy, who I was friends with me for 7 full years, but after that I recognized the friendship was toxic. We constantly fought, yet I’d just make up with her anyway. We had very few things in common, and sometimes found it hard to come up with things to say. She would call me names, make fun of me, get me in trouble, yet I’d still forgive her. I was eventually sick of it and cut all ties with her. It’s sad, because I was pretty much her only friend and she herself would get made fun of because she had autism, and I felt I could help her. But I saw how rotten she really was, and her autism is NOT an excuse for her actions, she shouldn’t get away scott free every time. I haven’t really seen her, not even in town, so I have no clue what has happened to her now that we’re in high school. No clue, but I didn’t need her anyway. Not at all. I don’t miss her one bit. There are several other friends that have either grown apart from me or just don’t bother to contact me anymore as well. Plus, I used to be bullied. I don’t really get bullied now, but I did before high school. They would pick on me for everything, for what I’d like, for what I did, for who I was. They cut the shit out a year before high school started, but I still never forget it and I may never forgive the ones who did it. I don’t think I can, even with my forgiving nature. Jake was by far the worst bully, he would often start picking on me and got others to join in. He would tell me to shut up and would try to exclude me as much as possible whenever I was forced to work with him in a group. I finally stopped him and all the bullying when I spoke up about everything in class, I was done. I said how done I was and that I didn’t need those who picked on me. Especially not Jake. Jake laughed and said he doubted that. But after that, I ignored all of it. They did it less and less and stopped. I had won. And then Jake tried to be nice and be my friend, but I knew where it would go. I kept my distance. And now I don’t even see him in town and don’t know if he even lives in town anymore. Hopefully he moved, if so good riddance.

Back to parents, my parents would constantly yell at me for my grades. Said I could do better, said I was smarter than this, punished me for every bad grade. This would stress me out and cause me to get more bad grades because I couldn’t focus with all the stress. It was a vicious cycle. Back then, my parents didn’t know that I had ADHD and a form of autism. They didn’t know that I actually couldn’t help it. Which probably made it worse, because I hated myself and wondered what the fuck was wrong with me. And the child study team wouldn’t look into it because they thought this was just a normal kid thing and I’d get better on my own. Reality check, I didn’t. Just last year, the child study team figured out that I had ADHD and Highly Functioning Autism Spectrum Disorder. My mom is trying to make up for everything, but it can’t undo what I went through. What happened. How I felt. Now whenever I get a bad grade, I have a mini panic attack. It doesn’t help that I’m in a prestigious high school and have way more expectations placed on me. I almost left the school last year and went to a different high school before they figured out what was wrong with me. Once they figured it out, I decided to stay and keep going.

So, that’s basically it. Glad I got this out. I needed this. Really did. I hope others who may share may problems know that they can always slides into the asks to vent to me. I’m here for you guys, if you need me to be. Thanks for reading this, if you have.

#vent #sorry #i needed this

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meanwhileinoz · 7 years

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11 Poor Teachers Share The Worst Parent/Teacher Interview They Ever Had To Do.

A teacher plays an important role in a child’s life by helping him/her acquire knowledge, competencies, and values. However, there are not many who value the role of a teacher in their lives.

Just read on to know some outrageous things told by some parents during a parent/teacher interview.

I had a Mom complain about the grade her kid received on an essay. I had given the essay a C- and the Mom was saying that it was obviously an A essay. I assured her that I was not biased and pointed out numerous issues with the essay, such as spelling mistakes.

Mom then reveals that SHE wrote the essay, not her kid. With a smug grin, she says: “Now you’ve got some explaining to do!”

Yeah, it’s me that’s got some explaining to do.

-icedpickles

The worst was a mother who threatened to pull her daughter out of the school system if she wasn’t given the lead soprano role in the high school’s Christmas concert.

Her daughter had auditioned, like everyone else, but didn’t have either the voice or skills required for the part. (The student understood this and agreed with the decision; it was her mother that turned it into a confrontation, believing her daughter to be an “opera-star-in-the-making”).

-Back2Bach

The one who told me the reason I was a bad teacher was because I wasn’t a mom. No fertility issues (but what if!) but had just gone through a terrible break up of a relationship heading toward marriage and family. Not really what a 35 year old woman wants to hear from the mother of an emotionally disturbed child.

-skankenstein

Wasn’t at a parent-teacher conference, but I tutored the child of a very aggressive parent who was so sure that their child was going to get into the number one high school in the state and would not let anyone tell them otherwise. The mother confronted me because I was taking about two lessons to go through past papers. That was because he was getting everything wrong so I needed to explain almost every question. His ability level wasn’t nearly close, and the poor child was under so much pressure from his overbearing parents. I never heard from them again.

It’s amazing how many parents think they can teach teachers how to teach.

-ennuis

Not me, but wife is a kindergarten teacher and suspected that one of her students may be autistic. The kid couldn’t communicate well at all, had issues with using the bathroom, and showed other classic signs of autism. My wife had a conference with the mother and explained that she would like him to be evaluated, but the mother refused and said that if her son did have autism, my wife was the one who caused it.

-Shostakovich22

I had a preschool aged student who would fixate on his female classmates. He would single one out and follow her around, then hug her and try to give her kisses. These were 3/4 year olds, and they would hate that. So inevitably the girl would try to squirm away, and he’d get angry and start hitting and scratching her face. He’d get in trouble of course, but the following week he’d have a new target. His mom was horrified, and would try to keep him corralled, but he really didn’t respect her at all. The only people he’d actually listen to were the dads that attended the program with their kids. They were pretty sympathetic, since they could see the kid had issues and knew we were trying to get him into our agency’s free counselling program. Well, his attitude toward females became obvious once his dad came back from deployment.

When my supervisor and I met with him, he was proud of what his boy was doing. He said it showed that he knew what he wanted and his determination to get it, and he’s not taking anything from the girls. Really ugly stuff. He literally said that the girls should just let him give them a kiss, since he’d get mad if he couldn’t. The mom just kept her head down. Right then I understood why she wanted counselling from us, rather than using his military benefits. He was by far the most misogynistic jerk I have ever met, and his son was picking it up from him.

Not a week later, the kid tried to go after the daughter of another Marine. Said marine was present. Said marine shouted at the dad for a while, and said he’d be speaking to his CO.

I ended up leaving the program a few days later, but I’ve always hoped the mom and little boy got away from him, and that the boy got some therapy. Otherwise, I have no doubt I’ll be seeing him on the news in a few years.

-Haceldma

5th grader with a ton of potential and an awesome personality… He was one of my favorite students, but chronically unprepared and always behind on homework. Mom comes in for conference, and makes excuses for him, blames me for giving confusing assignments (not accurate), and tells me how she can’t help manage his HW because she has 2 other kids to worry about. For example, grandma picks up kids and drops them at brother’s baseball practice, my student leaves backpack in grandma’s car, mom picks up kids after practice – her conclusion was “why should brother miss out on baseball because he has siblings?” After about 5 min of this, I stopped her and turned to the kid. I asked him if he thought he could be doing more, even if it’s on his own, and he said that he could. I told him I thought so, too and thanked them for coming in. Next day at school, I told him that I thought he was a great person who had a ton of potential and that he was going to have to make things happen for himself. He totally understood what I meant. It broke my heart.

-30isthenew50

One of the parents in my daughter’s class had their conference right before mine. I was sitting in the hall and could hear them trying to rebut every thing the teacher said. THEN these parents brought in the mom’s sister, who is a teacher and she got in on it with her “expert opinion”.

Their kid was a jerk by the way…he stabbed my kid with a scissors and was known as the class bully.

-rlw0312

Oh man. I was working at a boarding school on their summer school course. We had 2 boys (8 and 11) arrive with their uncle who they were staying with (the boys were from the UAE). He’d come to drop them off for 5 weeks but neglected to tell the children; they thought they’d come for a nice castle tour. Uncle books it and leaves it to us to explain that they were staying for 5 weeks, rather than having an awesome holiday (they’d been doing some really cool things for the week prior to being dropped off). During the kids stay the uncle would take the boys off campus to go to the mosque and bring them back on Saturday afternoon. One week they came back with games consoles which they weren’t allowed. Uncle tried to bribe me to let then keep them by offering me a white chihuahua puppy and when I declined he shouted at me for being common and poor. During the boys last week several trunks full of clothes and belongings arrived because surprise! The kids were going to be staying at the school until they were 18. Best parents ever.

-Thymewaits

I had a parent come in a week before school ended and tell me their child had the worst year ever and demanded to know what I was going to do to change it.

-POCKALEELEE

Not one kid in particular, but every year there are one or two aggressive of disrespectful students. 90% of the time, the parents try to make excuses about how this is “normal” how “all kids are like this at that age” and how I should “show them more compassion” instead of owning up that there is a discipline problem. Those same 90% of parents are also usually disrespectful and verbally aggressive to teachers and everyone dreads talking to them. That saying about the apple not falling far from the tree rings oh so true.

Alternatively, the parents who are the most apologetic and a delight to talk to are the ones with fantastic children. “Sorry if my kid was not focused…” is a line I get too often. Are you kidding Ma’am? I would adopt this child if I could!

-uReallyShouldTrustMe

http://ift.tt/2wAsaHA

#Animals #ENTERTAINMENT

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interrum · 7 years

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June 22nd, 2017

Tried playing some video games today; Ultra Street Fighter IV. Kind of worked well, prior to that I was trying to abate the sadness I was feeling over a whole bunch of things. I demonstrate sadness pretty reasonably I think. There's not a whole lot to it I imagine, you tell the person you are sad or demonstrate somber feelings comparably equipped with disengagement and sorrow. Sometimes I cut myself but I have to have the energy to do that, today I didn't so I didn't bother. I like to feel that people sometimes view me as a person with only two emotions: joy and anger. If I'm not feeling one, I'm occupied with the other; this is a coarse debasement. I enjoy the full range of emotions afforded to normal people, I cry, I laugh, I shriek and feel great levels of intrigue; I even have moments where I am in love. For the most part I feel that I am pushed and pulled constantly under the stresses of these two emotions until I am exhausted and unwound, like a wire ready to fray under the slightest nick.

Anyway the day has only just started and I'm finding lots of new ways to keep myself interested and free from suicidal behavior. I took reading back up, much more voraciously than before and I even have a little journal that I like to write in, so as to make sure my handwriting does get better, even when it's not necessary. There used to be a lot of heroes back when I was a kid, people who would draw from their sadness and seek virtuosity in combat instead of fueling themselves with rage and wild abandon. With me, I think I can be like that, but I feel my sensibilities are really high energy, so there probably is confusion or dissonance between what I am feeling and what my activities suggest. I had this problem before when I was a small boy. Then it happened again when I was a teenager, and now it's been happening more frequently in my twenties. I feel like one of those sociopathic people who go to nightclubs and have a brooding aura that no one wants a part of, when really I am just sad and desirous of something humbling and cathartic. It was because of this problem that I took up writing and reading much more seriously, depending on the two to express sensibilities I was otherwise incapable of communicating effectively with other people.

I used to go to school with a lot of people who had this sort of mentality: "if you are feeling down it's because you're weak and unable to substantiate your abilities in the real world," the immediate response to sadness was not to get cucked or some other vagabond humiliation, lest you spiral further into sadness. So no one really ever learned how to overcome sadness, and eventually became prioritized by it and fueled by other fearful emotions. I wasn't really raised like that, I was always taught to express myself fully and wholly no matter what I was feeling, so I guess that left me emotionally capable as a person, this would probably explain why have such an eclectic social circle. When you feel sad you are supposed to express the feeling and fully. People win awards for being able to do this, many people are awarded great sums of money just for honestly expressing the sadness they feel inside. Would a pauper run from an opportunity to make money? Or does he no longer feel sadness and fears that his financial ruin is his own doing?

I'm an INTJ for the most part. I've taken the test over a handful of times and I seem to be introverted very excellently. I keep to myself and am on top of my emotions with high acuity. My ability to plan and derive results from these plans is also highly efficacious. One thing I am bad at is playing with others as a team, I've since been trying to fix this problem and I have gotten a lot better at it. I can understand the emotions of others and use them to propel problems into places where solutions can be applied, but I am by no means an ENTP, I am most formally an INTJ; and if allowed, a silent ENTP. I'm not scary, very few people are afraid of me. I feel at home most anywhere, even if I get homesick very quickly I can maintain myself and my comfort. Maybe my personality would be good for sightseeing. I've tried sightseeing before, it didn't suit me very well.

Right now, my penis hurts. I don't know why, it's been like that for a long time now. It shouldn't really hurt this much, but every time I get an erection it is painful. Maybe there is a problem with the blood flow or something. I get to feel sad sometimes because of piety, other times it's because of simple failures in productivity. Sometimes I am forced into exchanges which are neither prolific or exhaustive, but I must participate or else things will only get worse. Kind of like how you could explain the fruitlessness of fighting with someone, and they still charge you, and even if you knock them out it doesn't bring about resolution or any sort of commendable answer to the disagreement. I've been known to cut myself, bike ride intoxicated, dangle in and out of oncoming vehicles such as trains, cars and buses, and I was often quoted to have done these things because "I wanted the attention." I probably did, but I don't really remember why or how. When I was young I used to cry for it, but as I got older it kind of became redundant and I'd only expect the worse, wishing for death or anything close to it. Sometimes people think this is a dark way of thinking but it really is a plaintive kind of logic. Not hopeless, but exhausted; confused but not bewildered. I could be attention seeking, but I fail miserably at getting other people to be concerned about my well being, probably because it's not the first thing on my mind when I am thinking about anything suicidal. That sounds selfish, well it ought to be. I wouldn't want to worry about the fragility of the economy if I were pressed upon a knife.

Oh, I hear voices a lot more now. I hear them outside, in the street, when I'm at the store, sometimes when I'm getting my bike repaired I hear voices dictating my actions or commenting on what I should be doing. I used to think it was just someone playing a prank on me from my computer but now I have certainty that I am in fact experiencing hallucinations which is ranked mildly schizophrenic. The voices don't really tell me to do stuff, they have small insouciant comments like "shit," and "are you serious?" I feel like these things nudge me in directions I am not comfortable, which would explain why I feel a lot worse lately than I should, but I haven't the slightest clue what I had done or have done to other people to deserve any of this. I suppose I am to feel a deep sense of betrayal and remorse, funded by anger in hopes of revenge, but an exhausted person is not a cooperative one. Even if I wanted to cooperate with the things I'm hearing, I have frequently run into the problem of not having enough energy to carry out each and every whim. So I'd end up more exhausted than I were originally and forced into creative submission. This type of thing was bound to happen anyway. The amount of pressure I get between home and anything occupational is insane. I went to this community college once and I remember the look on my professors face when I told her I was rescinding the class, as if I couldn't let her down because I was "too smart to fail," which was exactly the reason I was dropping the class in the first place. I can't stand being like that. I can deal with some pressure, but when the ends are undermined by the causes then I really just drop everything. I just don't see the reason in pursuing solutions that are created by the problems themselves. It used to be frustrating but now I just don't do anything anymore. If at the least, I'll try to give advice in the best way I can; which is to set an example of what I would do or what is preferred.

Back when my brother beat me up the first time, he recommended I take rispiridone to help with the anxiety, but I hadn't told him I was hearing voices (at least I don't think I was). After looking up the drug, it's something they offer people with autism and schizophrenia in order to alleviate the symptoms. It's an anti-psychotic drug, not a anti-depressant. Looking back I should have taken the prescription but I wasn't really hearing voices then. I was spacing out a lot more then. And then to make matters worse, he beat me up a following four times over those next three years, for situations that had nothing to do with him. I still feel he isn't all okay in the head, I know I am not but there's nothing sensible about that behavior to me. Remembering it would make me angry, but now I just don't care. I'm entirely saddened by the thought and just choose to distance myself from it. I used to look up to him for a while because there weren't many people I could, but now I wish I never had crossed paths with him in the way I did. Whenever he does beat me up my mom just kind of watches and expects the worst only after I've resigned myself to the beating. One time he just kept punching me after I stopped fighting back for a whole two minutes, the headache was unreal. Then I had to be taken to a hospital and spend the night there because my family was "worried" or something. I've been to the hospital by parsons three times now I think. The first time was the worst. The second time I went, I got a totally different evaluation which said I had nothing wrong with me. I don't remember the third time so it probably hasn't happened. I wanted to talk to the doctor about my cutting and suicidal behavior but they kind of carted me out of there on my own volition. As soon as you say you're ready to go they go back to their work and find you an ambulette. I still have the papers from the hospital visit, and the report is still with the precinct that took me so I could file a complaint if I wanted, but I figured it would iron itself out somehow.

I grew up being a misfit, I was a misfit at home and at school and at summer camp. I went into high school not quite fitting in and made friends on the bias that pushed us together. I don't think there's a better way to explain that people are forced into sociable circles, but that was the way I had developed. Even after expressing a very reasonable range of abilities, failing to excel in those that people cared about made me less of a interesting person to talk to; then again people who naturally excel in these areas aren't very interesting to talk to either so I guess that's the kind of game being played. I don't think I'm really bad at making friends. I have a hard time keeping them but as I get older I think it's less to do with my inability and failings as a person. I used to think I couldn't keep friends because I was always so quiet and only watched others, but that wouldn't change the way people depend on me. Maybe it's because they expect me to say something, even during something idle like walking home, and I'm content with just saying hi. I know what that feels like, but it's really not going to get either of us anywhere by being insincere. It could also be a guilty meditation that forces me to feel like these relationships fail, but I have been trying to feel less guilty about stuff that isn't my fault. For the most part I feel no remorse for anything I've done, partly because I did it in full belief and also because there isn't anyone else to blame. I used to regret everything: asking girls out, requesting money for food, buying food for friends, talking to friends, hanging out with friends. Everything came with regret and at some point I just gave up trying to categorize it all and told myself it didn't make sense. It wasn't worth it. Neither the blame or the fatigue. Now I live more guilt free and have nothing to fear, but it's also an empty life. Nothing shines in its original color anymore, all my favorite events are dulled out and less enjoyable than they used to be. Regret shouldn't have that kind of power over me but it did establish a great deal of roller coaster relationships, most of which were imparted on me and forced me to behave like one, a roller coaster.

My brother would always say there are three things he doesn't like to talk about: sex, politics and love (or something to that effect). I think he was saying those are touchy subjects. Politics are touchy because they can put you in places that you don't want to be. Even if you're not doing anything wrong and participating exactly how you should be, you are a force that others will find disparaging and offensive. Simply talking about politics is another hurdle in itself, imagine being offensive and having the gall to communicate about how offensive you are; it's heretical. I think that was predominantly the point, but I could be wrong. Anyway, politics to me is a topic that bears no weight. I'll talk about most anything because it's just who I am, but more and more I find myself unable to comment on anything effectively. Simply concluding a small matter in sociological development doesn't fix the problem, no matter how biting the comment. Eventually I got into the mode of trying to fix these problems with large sums of examples and argumentative practices, which both proved very useful. I was never good at teaching other people how to do things, but apparently I was really exceptional for setting an example for how things should and shouldn't be done, so I used this to my effect without much effort. I think I may be destructive to my environment because I'm like this. Due to my inability or refusal to commit to pithy events that don't fix the problem, I'm causing the problem much more exposure which makes people upset a lot of the time. But I don't want to whine and complain the problem away, I want to fix it. There's nothing to be gained from expecting life to bend over for you. It sounds really pious and noble which is another failure of my personality but I'd rather not fix problems that were created solely for the solutions existence. Can you imagine a problem that's been engineered solely to bring about a convenient solution or worse, a profitable one?

#june 22nd #2017

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starnova-between-two-worlds · 7 years

Text

Lost artifacts

Yesterday I found out that my dad’s wife had mental health records for me dating as far back as 2005. Today, I found out that she threw away each and every one of them. I never got to see any of them at all.

She told me she had hard copies of all of them...the records from the various clinics and social workers I was passed around to throughout my adolescence that apparently “found nothing” (if they FOUND NOTHING, then why did I have records from them in the first place? You don’t give parents a copy of nothing). The doctors’ notes and waivers that they had to send to my high school to get me placed on a 504 plan. The entire copy of the 504 plan itself and what was written on it, including the (required) diagnostic criteria and assessment from the child study team. What the hell was written on that thing? I found out that my 504 was consistent for those with Oppositional Defiant Disorder, for fuck’s sake. She had my EEG and brainwave scan results from those 2 bullshit scans I had to have, once in 2005 and once in 2007. I would have cut off an arm and leg to see what was written in my actual BRAINWAVES, for crying out loud.

Every single time I was passed around to all of these stupid clinics, doctors, social workers, assessments, tests, evaluations, for eight years, all she ever said was “They found nothing. They said you’re normal and that you’re just acting out so you can have your own way.” 8 years later I get an autism diagnosis. 2 years later I’m in disability care and going to college on Learning Access Programs. A year after that it’s “You may be borderline....oh wait nope, surprise! You’re schizotypal!” And now I find out that there’s an entire paper trail leading up to this that I not only never got to see, but didn’t even know existed?

So I asked her for the records. “I can’t find them.” Okay, I’ll find them myself. I woke up at 6 AM to tear the house a-fucking-part, looking everywhere that the family documents and records are kept. I looked in the safes, the filing cabinets, inbetween the pages of the photo albums and my baby book, my old school bullshit papers full of terrible stories, bad poetry, and ugly drawings (oh yeah, THOSE were important enough to keep around). I looked for something, anything at all that had my name on it and wasn’t in my own handwriting. Nothing but my birth certificate.

She then tells me over the phone after my search that she “musta tossed ‘em all, oh well!”

She tossed. The copies of my mental health records.

The one Grand Tome to everything that was ever going on in my brain that I never even got to know (and now, never will) was going on in my brain. She tossed it. She threw it all out. They’re gone. Locked away in some old filing cabinet somewhere that I have to pay 80 dollars and wait 4-6 weeks to see. She had them all, and she threw them all away. Every answer I had ever wanted. She threw them all away.

She sure as hell spent the past 12 years telling me “they found nothing, you’re normal, you’re just selfish and spoiled and trying to get your own way” though. Well if they FOUND NOTHING, THEN WHAT THE HELL DID YOU TOSS? THEY HAD TO HAVE FOUND SOMETHING FOR ME TO BE ON SUCH AN INTENSIVE 504 IN THE FIRST PLACE, BITCH (by intensive I mean I was leaving school THREE HOURS EARLIER than the other students. They don’t do that for kids who they “FOUND NOTHING” on).

(I once tried to Instant Checkmate myself for shits and gigs until I found out they wanted a monthly payment and noped out. I remember being shocked that Instant Checkmate actually found stuff on me. I’ll bet you this was the stuff they found on me.)

I could have known. I could have known why I had to live my life the way I did. I could have known why I have the thoughts that I do, why I act the way I do. I could have known why I can’t form meaningful connections to anybody and why they can’t form meaningful connections to me. I could’ve known the name for each and every single struggle I’d ever known in my life. Maybe I WANT to know why I just don’t know what it is to be a “good person,” and have to watch and copy the actions of good people like Tracer or Yuna or Link or other people like that just to know what it even MEANS to be good...only for it to inevitably fail because I’m not Tracer, I’m not Yuna, and I’m not Link, and the mask just doesn’t hold up long enough before something shatters it. Maybe I WANT to know why I would run and hide everytime a human would come by, why I only ever found comfort in machines and screens. Maybe I WANT to know why I used to like to hurt people, and why even now that desire to hurt, to incite fear, to cause pain still exists, but remains suppressed because I just don’t want it to exist anymore. Why do I want people to die just because they disagree with me? Why do I try to be a good person, but inevitably turn bad again because I don’t know how to be good, I only know how other people are good? Why do I have to think like that? Why do I have to be like that? What is the name for it? Why did I have to go through high school as “the neighborhood retard” that everyone took advantage of and only pretended to be friends with for free entertainment? Why did I have to go to the hospital that one day in 10th grade? Why did a social worker have to come to my house every Saturday after that? Did the hospital find something that got thrown away too? Why, why, why?

I’ll never know why. I’m now as much an enigma to myself as I’ve always been to other people--a curious, strange animal with no explanation for why she exists. There were explanations. There were even written explanations, and I never got to see them. I never got to know them. My soulbonds never got to see them or know them or be able to use them to take care of me. Until my soulbonds, I went through my entire life never having a single connection to another human soul. I existed as an anomaly, a glitch in the matrix, some kind of unexplainable error the nature of human existence. And then I find out those errors had names. And then I find out that all evidence of those names were destroyed. What is this, a fucking sci-fi dystopia?! Why is my life LIKE this?!

There are now entire pieces of myself that I’ll never get to know. Because they were thrown away by a purely-selfish entity who just wanted to hide from them herself, to hell with the person who actually has to live with them without ever knowing why. I’ll never know what’s really going on in my head. I’ll never know the names for everything that’s up there. I didn’t even know there WAS anything else up there until I found out there were piles worth of mental health records that are now gone. I’ll never know why I don’t have a job, can’t interact with humans, want people to hurt or die, don’t know how to be a good person, see other humans--including my soulbonds--in terms of their direct benefits to me, spent my entire life doing disgusting, nasty, or just plain weird things, being laughed at or feared, having even teachers and authority figures and grown-ups come bearing down upon me like I was some kind of horrible monster in their midst. The monster had a name. It had several names. I’ll never get to know them.

There’s all sorts of monsters inside me and now I’ll never even get to know what they are. And if I don’t know what they are...then how will I know how to defeat them?

...And how will I ever know if they’re going to get better or get worse? Will they go away someday...or am I stuck with them till the day I die?

I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me now. It could be literally anything.

#mental illness #mental illness in families #fuck my life

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