About autisticaplanet

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Welcome to a blog about an autistic adult woman in her late 30's using words and images to advocate acceptance as well as awareness of those with life-limiting sensory processing issues and resulting social and behavioral challenges. I write about inclusion ideas for those who remain in isolation due to their neuromakeup and share how my Christian faith keeps me going. Thank you for visiting.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

The Onion in the Petunia Patch Part Three

Young adulthood-present
I attempted suicide when I was 17, six months before graduation. I was hospitalized for the first of what would be over 20 spanning from 1997-2006.
More bullying and much more blame came from what was supposed to be a place of healing. I was told how spoiled I was, what a con-artist I was; manipulative (as if plugging my ears and screaming
at the loud toddler visiting was my way of wanting to “get” something from someone-other than quiet).
There were more suicide attempts. In 1998, I saw the next in a series of psychiatrists/psychologists. This man diagnosed me, wearily, with “autistic tendencies”. I was 19.
I went on to getting into trouble with the law and almost being imprisoned. I firmly believe if it hadn't been for my mom’s nursing sense and persevering spirit, I would have gone to jail and would not be here today.
I questioned God. I began to wonder if He really did exist. I decided that He did, but that He hated me, even was bullying me. How sad that seems now. I was so messed up on anti-psychotics for those on the schizophrenic spectrum, covered with boils that bled (and left scars) on my face, neck and back. I went to a few churches that told me mental illness was a fable and that all I had to do was babble my cares aloud. So much of my teen and early adult years were mired in perversion-that of undiagnosed alienation, persecution (amplifying the alienation) and encountering the most bizarre people. I also found out I had PMDD (Premenstrual Dysmorphic Disorder) which makes women who have it violent during their period. We still have to fight to get coverage for the birth control pill I take. It keeps me mentally stable during my annual 4 periods.
The light in all this darkness came when by 2006, I had exhausted every resource in the county which I live (Kane). My aunt had a friend whose son had been diagnosed with Asperger’s. She thought I should go. She is the reason I have my therapist. It is well worth the 50 minute car-ride and gas.
By God’s grace, the dedication of my late mother and the treatment team I worked with for 9 years, I have come out of the hell I descended into in my teens. It has been a long and intensely painful journey. Sometimes I feel like I am a sacrificial offering of autism and sensory processing disorder.
The whole reason why I am telling my story is so that someone in a future generation doesn’t have to endure so much of what I and my parents did. Perhaps this will also serve as a reference point to see how far the diagnosis and treatment as well as overall well-being of the higher-functioning autistic individual has progressed.