I forgot to add that I learn conceptually, have a graduate degree and much more. It’s all in the archives. This really isn’t what I want my writing or I to be known for.
That is why I attempted to stay away from it. I would make the worst spokesperson for Aspergers as I’m “not socially awkward,” or many other things.
I am angry at an embedded psychiatric system that first told me as I was an adopted girl, I couldn’t have real motor coordination problems, etc. so it was anger at being adopted. When I sought help as an adult in the 80’s, everybody agreed that my problems were real but I was too eager to be helped, and there weren’t treatments for adults.
Yes I know Aspergers itself wasn’t diagnosed until 95, but many of the components were known and there was help for children and then for the adults that they had become. When I was in grad school I became aware of students who at 25 were still playing the learning disabled card. I was both envious and resentful, as the help had never been available to me yet I had more than functioned.
Also felt that I wasn’t supposed to get into the boats with the life preservers as it was more important that somebody who was 25 rather than 44 be given a chance. This sounds bitchy. It is. I did very well in school, and passed the state licensing exam while still in school. Frankly I believe that this school accepted White Middle Aged Women because they knew how hard we would work, and that we would boost their stats by passing the exam while still in school. Frankly most of school was a joke and taught at a Junior College level.
I went to a top ranked social work grad program to have an intellectually challenging experience. It was challenging in every way but intellect.
I went to grad school in part to learn more about myself. It was the height of political correctness, and like I said the boats with the life preservers were reserved for all younger women, and any handicapped non Caucasian male. I am far from racist. I had many problems with a male Caucasian who was 74.
Though he was harassing me, he was given precedence because he was a Senior Citizen who needed a hip replacement, and I looked far younger than my age. I was supposed to understand for the 20,000 time in my life. He said things to me in front of other people that were first sexual then nasty. My classmates of all races, ages and both sexes were appalled. He had been kicked out of our field placement, yet was allowed to go to a class where you were supposed to have one as it discussed your work. I was supposed to understand that since he was older this was sensitive and he could have sued the school–though their reaction was to do nothing.
Then his problems became so overt that the school was forced to do something and he was expelled. This took most of my second semester. I should have transferred to a more demanding less politically correct school, or dropped out. It was a very expensive horrible experience. It was when I began to doubt myself and my accomplishments. I had always been so optimistic. This was the first time that I understood being optimistic could be a negative.
The very experience that was supposed to give me a new career left me angry, depressed, and for the first time, since Junior High, I felt “not able.” This coincided with my mom’s too rapid aging after a lifetime of being vital, and many family problems. Yes it was ironic that I was Geriatric Social Worker and unable to help my mother, and at 45 I felt old and mired in systems that weren’t looking at new ways to help adults.
It was probably me. I probably didn’t help ask for help correctly as I don’t grovel, do present myself well, and have always stood to the side for the people who needed more than I did. I have always helped others to the best of my abilities and they’re pretty damn good. In placing other people above myself I allowed myself to be used. Won’t allow that ever to happen again.
To all the baby boomers who have suddenly become concerned with their own aging as they watch their parents age when I talked about this subject a decade and more ago, you laughed. Wasn’t going to happen to us; we were going to establish new ways of aging and new communities.
Where has this happened? We live in a country that doesn’t even allow stem cell research unless it’s privately financed and in a few states, but still they don’t get federal funds. We have regressed since Newt Gingrich’s Contract with America. We are a failure as a society and a people, and don’t even see that. We’re so busy passing blame onto other people that we don’t stop and ask what we as individuals can do. Well, I have, and I won’t anymore because for the first time in my life I have to think of myself first.
Yes I have somewhat significant resources, I guess. I wouldn’t know as I live in New York where they will be eaten. I hate to feel helpless; I hate to feel despair; I hate to feel in pain. I have always apologized for feeling any one of those emotions as “they’re not nice, not polite, not becoming for somebody like me who has been blessed with so much.” And I have been blessed with much. But I am so tired of feeling that everybody else should get on the boat first for one reason or another.
I’m high up on the blogger food chain. As a “successful” personal blogger I can use my own voice to help me. I am very aware that this might be construed as whining, something I was often accused of last year when the radical right owned the blogging world.
The radical right no longer does. I have done more than my bit to ensure that. I wish that I wasn’t so aware of all the negative possibilities. I wish that I could feel more faith in both myself and in the blogging world. I have made incredible blogging friends. If I stay within my blogging sphere, my comfort zone for now, it’s because I need to continue to feel that safety for awhile.
I don’t want to turn off the people who read Courting regularly. While I am glad that there is much help available for children and thus then maybe their parents, I will sound harsh and say that I’m not interested in child centered treatment. I really don’t want to be writing about this at all as I’m probably sabotaging my own future by coming forth with this.
My story isn’t dramatic. I have never tried to kill myself or to harm another person. I have never spent a night in a mental hospital. I have never found myself in a homeless shelter or any governmental agency unless I was working in it. I have been on unemployment and have paid the taxes due.
I’m much more fun when I stick to old boyfriends and other things. I feel as if I’m rehashing things most people who read Courting already know but re-reading my blog and working on my memoir has brought certain issues up that I don’t want to be known for, really. I am very tired of my own story. For many reasons I feel that I can’t move forward until I find some closure, and you have no idea how much I hate the word “closure.” THE MERE ACT OF WRITING AND POSTING CAN LIFT ME OUT OF THE DESPAIR–SO I DO
I am almost finished proofing and categorizing July, 2005. My spelling had improved though I don’t think I’m up to the Google spell check era.
Why has my inability to spell suddenly become more important than my ability to write?
When I was a student, tech writer or other type of professional writer I made sure that my work was always perfectly spelled. This is a damn blog. Used to have something on the left sidebar as the first cut is the deepest so is the first draft
That shows two things: I went through an embarrassingly long Rod Stewart phase; and I can appear to be insightful. Maybe I am. Aspergers makes me second guess myself and/or not appreciate my own talents. I hadn’t planned to talk about Aspergers on Courting until I read a post in a blog:
“My nephew is going to suffer because he doesn’t give the correct answer as it’s so obvious.”
Had to answer that. One of the reasons I never participated in class discussions and failed some tests in high school was because I couldn’t believe that the teacher was looking for an answer that