Who Am I?

Who Am I?

It's a question that no adolescent knows the answer to right away. The thing is, that most of the time, an adolescent grows and learns who they are. Someone with Aspergers may not. 

Sure, I know that I'm a 23 year old girl with a heart of gold. I know that even though I struggle to make friends, I would lie down in front of a bus before letting it hit anyone else. I know that I love my family and that I would do anything for them... But that's just it; I define myself by others. 

For as long as I can remember, my life didn't feel like my own. I've tried explaining it and no one seemed to understand, but I feel like it's important for me to express, because there may be a girl like me out there, wondering why she's so different, searching for someone like her in this world. Maybe she'll stumble across this. 

First of all, let me preface this by saying that this is my blog. I am writing as a girl with Aspergers, but that does not mean that all people with Aspergers feel as I do. Aspergers is already so misunderstood that I wanted to make sure that was clear.

Growing up, I had a vivid imagination... some would say it was strange for a person who would later have my diagnosis to have such an imagination, but it was my savior. It was what I needed to get through my childhood. I had imaginary friends, I lived in a series of day-dreams, and I watched my life go by as though it were a movie or a play and I was but an actress. 

On my street there was a gigantic rock that the neighborhood kids would play on. I would go up there alone. I would spend hours daydreaming. One day, a neighbor in my class approached me at school and started making fun of me for talking to myself and seemingly arguing with myself on the rock. He had been watching me and I didn't realize that my daydreaming had evolved into full blown role-playing with myself and that I was actually acting out the scenes that were happening in my head. I continued to visit my rock after that experience, but only to think and be alone. I refused to allow myself to daydream there. It wasn't safe for me anymore. 

Another time, I'm told (I lived in a small town and people don't forget things easily) I was bragging to my class that I had a robot twin sister... apparently, she even went to school one day. No, I don't have multiple personalities. It was most likely as simple as wanting to find a friend. If the kids at school didn't like me... maybe they would like her. Again, I don't recall this experience, but certain classmates never let me forget it. 

As I got older, my fantasies internalized and those that wouldn't were written down as beginnings to novels. I have way to many started novels. Unfortunately, while the fantasies were less invasive in my life, it still wasn't my life. I tried explaining it once to a therapist. I told her that it was like I was in a play or a movie, and that I had never received my character bio. Nothing ever seemed real. I would go to a big event like a dance, and as soon as it was over, it was another scene gone by. I could watch that scene but it was always a third-person point of view. I never got to see how I felt. Even huge events like prom and graduation came and went in the same fashion. I can play them all I want, but it's like they're not my memories. It's like someone told me about them and I wasn't actually there. I know I was. There are pictures to prove it... But I don't feel what I should feel when I look at those pictures or think about those occasions. 

This post wasn't meant to be depressing. Some things have changed recently. I moved halfway across the country and got a fresh start. I have new friends that I made on my own and they understand what I'm going through. I got my diagnosis at 22. I now understand why I am different... and now that I understand, I'm going to embrace my Aspergers as the best gift I've ever been given.