The olden days

Went to bed at 12.30am. Woke up but tried to sleep some more. Impossible. Thoughts flying round with a vengeance; conversations, people worries, fear, sadness and all the emotions all at once in  detail and in confusion at the same time. Horrible. Lay like that for ages and noticed my foot was tapping so got up for a coffee and a fag at 6.50am. Feeling very tired and a bit tearful.

Contrary to popular opinion I was not born aged fifty-four. In fact I was once young. All through my childhood I never got on with the other children. During the breaks I used to walk round the playground on my own most of the time. At junior school I used to add variety to this by sitting behind a wall at the end of the playground; if the weather was very cold I used to go and sit in the coal bunker. The other children were rude to me, they used to call me a spastic. Not very kind really.
I often used to get hit by the other kids. I couldn't fight back and was frightened so I'd stand there crying while they hit me, and the other kids would laugh. I didn't understand and still don't.

We were very badly-off when I was young. Mum suffered from depression. I was always worried about everything; with hindsight I was depressed too. I threw myself into my schoolwork as a way of escaping from all the sadness. My parents separated when I was eleven. Dad deserted us (and so did his family) and my brothers and I suffered extreme emotional cruelty. Enough of that. Don't want to talk about it.

At secondary school I hated PE and would "bunk off" lessons most of the time. During the breaks I would go to the music block and play the piano. It is only recently that I have been able to come to terms with my childhood. Nobody noticed the issues I had to deal with, and still face. "You always have to be different". "You are a strange child". "You think you're better than we are". "Will you please get out of the house and play with the other children" "Will you stop talking"

Why the hell did no-one notice that something was wrong? If someone had bothered to care, perhaps I might have had my diagnosis then, rather than having to wait until now. I'm not sure that life would have been happier, but I might have been able to cope better.

ASD is horrible, and it distresses me greatly to think that there are people I care about, who have similar experiences.

As a footnote I have broken all contact with my family, except for one brother who I think the world of. My family now consists of the people I am closest to; the people who matter. I am so lucky to have them.