Diagnosis... Friend or Foe?

Diagnosis... Friend or Foe?

There's a large debate over whether or not having a diagnosis is a good thing. I can't tell you the number of times I've heard someone say that their child/grandchild/niece/nephew had undiagnosed Aspergers. They say they don't want the child to be labeled... but without that label, the child cannot understand why they are the way they are. More disturbingly, the child cannot receive the proper help to overcome the obstacles that Aspergers syndrome creates. 

I am in the unique position of having seen both sides of this argument. I was not diagnosed until I was 22 years old. Although I know my parents blame themselves, I know that it is not their fault. They did everything they could for me. They brought me to the right doctors... unfortunately, those doctors just kept coming to the wrong conclusions. 

The first doctor was supposed to test for OCD. He wanted to play the "squiggle" game. He drew a squiggly line on a piece of paper and asked me to draw a picture off of his line. I refused, saying that I wanted to draw my picture my way. He told my parents I was insolent and sent me on my way. Looking back, it was trademark Aspergers. I didn't want to give up control of the situation. I had my mind set and I wasn't going to change it.

After that doctor, we tried a social worker. She was convinced that I just needed a friend. She never actually counseled me. When I went to her crying, begging for help, she seemed shocked. Needless to say, we didn't keep in touch.

From there, we went the psych route. I was diagnosed as having OCD, Depression, Dysthymia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, and Bipolar. I was put onto medications; some helped... some did nothing. I went to counseling every week. I decided that I was going to be the way that I was and that my life wasn't going to change. Luckily my tantruming got (pretty much) under control before I left for college. Other than that, I resigned myself to the fact that I would never fit in.

Looking back, there were so many signs. There was an incident at the mall. I was with my mom, grandmother, aunt, and cousins and we went to get cookies. They were out of the cookie I wanted. I threw a tantrum. I couldn't calm down. My mom rushed me out of the mall and someone slapped me across the face, trying to snap me out of the state I was in. I started screaming that I was afraid. I yelled that they were abusing me. Someone called the police. My mother cornered me and held a hand over my mouth, keeping my screams quiet, until the police officer left. I could have lost my family that day. The worst part was that I didn't remember anything between being told that they were out of my cookie and being in my grandfather's car with tear stained cheeks. That was the only time I ever saw my grandfather angry. Rigidity of thinking at its strongest. 

My mom is always saying, "If we knew then what we know now"... and while I feel horribly that she consistently ponders this, I tend to agree. My life would have been completely different if that first doctor, or even the second or third had diagnosed my Aspergers. Instead, I was blindsided during my senior year of college when a professor told me that she'd assumed I had Aspergers since the day I entered her class. A few weeks later, I read A Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Nighttime and was amazed at the similarities in the way my brain and the main character's brain worked. After graduating, I went to begin my career working with kids with special needs and was told that I shared a lot of the traits that our students displayed. A part of me knew what my diagnosis would be before I ever went in for the testing.

At 22, all a diagnosis does is give you closure. It tells you why you were so different. It gives you an excuse for some of your behaviors over your lifetime. 22 is not the time to start behavioral therapy or communication therapy... it's too late. I have to continue using the coping mechanisms that I used for the first 23 years of my life. For me, my diagnosis gave me peace. I came to an understanding with myself. I understood why I was the person I was and decided to embrace that person. I hope that anyone who thinks their child/grandchild/niece/nephew might be on the spectrum goes through the proper channels to get a diagnosis. It's not about the label. It's about the help that can be provided to the child. It's about allowing the child to grow up loving herself. It's not a label... it's an explanation.