SammichEater's Story

Thank you to SammichEater for this amazing story. It's really interesting to read and just the fact that somebody doesn't have an official diagnosis doesn't make them a "wannabe". It can be hard to get an assesment for a diagnosis and anybody who considers themselves to have AS must have good reasons.

Even as a young child, I wasn't anything like a normal person. Perhaps my first memory of this was when I was about 3 years old. I was at some unfamiliar place, there were lots of people, including children my age (at the time), and it was loud. It was probably some sort of party. I remember walking across the room with the adults talking, and some guy and asked me "how do you feel?" I stopped and looked at him, not knowing what to say. He then asked me "do you feel sad?" I realized it was a dumb question because, first of all, he doesn't need to know, and he shouldn't care, and secondly, I knew that I didn't want to talk about it. I turned away and proceeded to walk out of the room. What happened after that is a blurry memory, but I know for a fact that my mom saw what happened and needless to say, she was very upset. If I'm not mistaken, I was forced to apologize, and then I ran off and cried.

But my weirdness is a double edged sword. While I was crippled in terms of social interactions, when I started school, I excelled at everything I did. Learning basic arithmetic and reading skills came natural to me. In kindergarten, I was going to be put in a gifted program, but my teacher thought I wouldn't maintain my intellectual advantage. My first grade teacher was clueless. It took only a few weeks before my second grade teacher realized my potential and put me in the gifted program. I remember being told thousands of times just how smart I was. It almost seemed as if I was some sort of prophet or something.

Then, because my dad is in the military, we moved to Arizona. I started going to a new school, and I hated it. The rest of that year, the second grade, was hell for me. My parents insisted that I should have been put in a gifted program, but because I didn't pass the test (by one question), I was locked out. Most students passed it at earlier grade levels, when it was easier. For the most part, I was stuck learning stuff I already knew, and it was really boring.

Also, that same year was when I remembered talking to my dad about friends. He was disappointed in me for not making any. To me, making friends wasn't on my mind. I never once complained about being lonely. I don't remember what exactly he said, but when the conversation was over, I decided that I did want friends, and that I would have to work for it. That's what I did, and I guess it payed off alright.

For the years after I was somewhat like any ordinary kid. I had made a few friends, and I continued to do well in school. Still, my weirdness made itself visible in other ways. I became obsessed with NASCAR racing. Unlike normal kids, I never really played with my toys. My idea of playing was building exact replicas of NASCAR courses in my bedroom floor out of whatever materials that I could find. When I had friends over to "play," all I did was bore them, and I didn't care.

In the fifth grade, I was forced to move back across the country once again, to Florida. I was quickly befriended by a nice boy, and he helped me to get back on my feet. By the sixth grade, I was still in elementary school; I became comfortable with my new surroundings, and up until recently, I referred back to this year as the best one I've had. In this time of my life, I could almost convince myself that I was normal.

Then it was off to junior high, and the fecal matter hit the fan. My relationships with my friends thinned out. I saw people being made fun of for being different, and it took me only a few hours before I realized that I needed to keep my mouth shut. So that's what I did, and it backfired. I became known as "that kid who never talks." Deep down inside, I started to develop a narcissistic hatred for society. I began to think that I had majorly screwed up somewhere. I knew my parent's wouldn't want me to tell them how I was really doing, so I made up friends just to make them happy. Not only that, but I became aware of my awkwardly flat facial expressions, and I started to develop an aversion to eye contact, only to add fuel to the fire.

But, in reality, I was happy. I had discovered the awesomeness of the internet. While people had no respect for me in real life, I could go online and I was usually met with friendly and helpful people. The whole saying that people are always meaner on the internet is a complete lie. Nobody I met playing games online knew who I was, besides a skilled and experienced player, which I earned respect for. It was because of the internet that I managed to maintain my sanity.

Then high school happened. I continued to follow the same path, talking to very few people and making friends through the computer. But, after moving to California, and spending freshman year at what I call a pre-ivy-league school, I fell flat on my face. I was not ready for the increase in responsibility and expectations. This brought about huge amounts of stress, and consequentially, depression. Once again, I felt as if I had failed somewhere. Not only was I a social failure, but I became an academic failure as well. I realized I was going to have to work harder, and I eventually started pulling myself back together.

A few weeks into my sophomore year it was time to move, yet again, but this time, we'd be staying for a while. To make a long story short, I once again regained my status as an excellent student, but I failed to make any friends. I remember thinking at the end of that year that something just wasn't right. I overheard something about "finding ones-self" during adolescence. I then thought about it. I had so little of an idea who I was or what I was doing on Earth that it about made me brown my pants.

Ironically, just a few months later, I found what I was looking for. I was accepted into the engineering academy at my school, and I started taking math and science intensive classes my junior year. On the first day I listened to the engineering teacher talk about how important social skills are for us, and how a lot of us engineers don't have them. I soon realized I was in the right place. It didn't take long before I found one of my classmates drawing a complex electrical circuit on his laptop computer. He was a total genius, but he lacked the basic social skills that my teacher was talking about. After a few weeks, I started to see him as a reflection of myself, with the only exception being that I'm much more shy than he was.

Then one Friday afternoon I came home from school, and my mom was telling me about this strange mental disorder that she thinks I have. I shrugged it off and continued on with my life, for a few hours. Then, I decided that maybe she is right. I mean, after all, it wouldn't hurt to look into it. I went to Google, and I tried to type in what I could remember from the word she used.

I started reading about it. I thought, "no way, this is insane, there's no way I have a mental disorder related to autism. That's for retarded people." I was disgusted. But at the same time, I was also interested. I kept researching. Over the course of a few weeks, I began to assemble the bits and pieces of my life that I previously did not understand. It's like I had been walking around in a dark room all my life, and suddenly a light was turned on, and I could then see what it was that I tripped over.

I began to develop a sense of community for the first time. I started to call myself an aspie. To think that there actually was somewhere that I belong was euphoric. Not only did I begin to understand myself, but I also began to accept it. I discovered who and what I am, and that there's other people like me. Despite my initial feelings about it, the idea seemed to be rather comforting, in a way that's really difficult to describe.

But then theres the thought that I just want to feel special. Maybe I just want to have somewhere I belong. Maybe I'm just making this up. After all, I don't have an official diagnosis. But after several months, I just can't consider myself to be a neurotypical. There is so much evidence suggesting that I'm an aspie it's almost ridiculous. It just kinda sucks that not everyone on the internet knows this. When I tell people that I don't have an official diagnosis, it makes me some sort of wannabe, like I'm not really part of the club. Luckily, not everyone is a jerk like that.