A Brief Catch up.

I had decided to post "my story" on here so that my fellow bloggers can get an idea of my past experience. I did right this in the summer of '08, so my feelings on the matter are a bit different. In January of '09 I was diagnosed with aspergers disorder. My mother had always known I was different, and as a behavioral therapist she had put the pieces together and told me she thought I had aspergers. Well, my mother, if indeed she should be called by such a name, has been my "social worker" since I was 13, and emotionally abandoned me at the age of eight. She was always trying to diagnose me with something, or even better, have her fellow doctors prescribe me anti-depressants. Heaven forbid I have a bad day here and there.



At the time I was job shadowing a friend of my mothers who is a speech pathologist; she worked for a clinic who counsel children and adults with autism. The more I watch the kids, the more I felt "at home." I talked more with the SP, and she convinced me to have a psyciatric evaluation done by the psycologist, we'll call him Doc.



I won't go into too much detail about what happened during my psyciatric evaluation, but it was a very emotional experience for me. All of this was during finals week, what a GREAT week to be emotional, eh? I also at the time was going through a break up with my boyfriend, wonderful (for those of you who are wondering, I kicked ass on my finals). After finals were over, and my psychiatric evals- I broke down. I went spiraling down, out of control, lost, etc. After a month of my kaotic life (again, I'm not going to give details), I calmed down, and tried to patch things up with my boyfriend. Around that time is also when I was scheduled for my feedback from my eval. He told me, of course, that I had aspergers- but that I'm more high functioning (which is awesome), and that I have acute stress disorder, and major depression. He also spoke about how he thinks I hate men, and how traumatized I am from surrendering my son, the abuse/neglect from both my mother and my father. So, he told me he wanted to start seeing me twice a week- so I went and scheduled out until May.



I want to introduce to you something that I just figured out today with the help from Doc. I haven't "felt" anything in 16 years. Growing up in my fathers household, you were not allowed to feel any sort of emotion. If you did, you would be ridiculed, made fun of, ignored, told that what you were feeling wasn't correct, etc. Being the intellectual that I am, I was smart enough to know that I can't feel anything,otherwise I would be ostracized. I opened up a container and started stuffing shit in, as soon as I was done I would close the lid tightly so that I couldn't feel anything. I've been doing this for the past 16 years, and yesterday the lid came flying off.

I just can't believe everything that I have been put through. It's incredible that I'm still breathing.