Life ... or something like it

I started this blog figuring I would be funny and smart while I shared what life was like raising a teenager with Aspergers. Its turned into something entirely different. It seems almost wrong to find humor in something that is - at the moment - anything but.

Today, I thought I would talk about what life is like right now. The first thing you need to know is that Aspergers is not something you grow out of, and its not something that can be cured. I don't care what you read or what authority claims that is the case. At best, a person with Aspergers learns coping strategies that help them to navigate this less-than-perfect world.

With my son's realization that he wanted friends - that he wanted to be a part of this world - came anxiety and depression. Anxiety because he wants so much to fit in, but learning and using social skills is like learning how to read when you're dyslexic. Unfortunately, the neurotypical world isn't accepting of someone who can't read body language or facial expressions. And people are even harder on someone who operates on a less than mature social level. They assume "brat". They label "freak". They shun and hate. So, the effort it takes to try to "fake normal" takes a toll - and anxiety is the price paid. Clinical anxiety. Anxiety that causes massive panic attacks, meltdowns, and freak outs.

The anxiety and its results lead to worse isolation and ostracizing, which lead to depression. Clinical depression. The kind that says "Why get up at all? What's the point? Wouldn't I be better off dead?" For someone with Aspergers - which has an OCD-like component where the brain fixates on something - fixating on death is a Very Bad Thing.

That's where we are right now. Kiddo was shunned and ostracized once again. He reached a point where "faking normal" was just beyond him and he fell apart. In class. In front of college students. He was humiliated. Again. His disappointment and disgust in himself is as deep and dark as the ocean. He's dropped out of college. He won't get up or shower or leave the house without a fight. I can't go out without him because death does seem like a reasonable option to him. And so I sit here, surfing the web, attempting to read, trying to keep myself sane in an insane world where nothing makes sense.

I think (and God forgive me all of you who have kids who are unaware of the world) that it would be better if he was clueless. He was happy before he realized he wanted friends. He was happy before he realized he didn't "fit" in the neurotypical world. He was happy before the "neurotypical world" destroyed everything he is with their disdain and loathing of difference. At least, if he were less functional, he wouldn't understand that loneliness is the worst feeling ever.

This is not life as it should be.