>Just to clarify, not that I thought anyone was confused…
I worry that I’m faking. That autism is just yet another wrong diagnosis, that it’s not neurological but psychological, that I’m just lazy. I want to be “normal.” I want to be thinking of boyfriends, jobs, homes, and going out. I don’t go out. I don’t see friends. I have my mom, my aunt, and two or three close friends who I wouldn’t trade for anything. But still, I want to be NORMAL. And it seems to me that, if it’s not really autism, that normalcy is within my reach and the only reason I don’t have it is somehow due to my choice.
The first autism-spectrum diagnosis I got was Asperger’s (before that, I’d had the typical depression, anxiety, social anxiety, OCD, etc. ones). On my good days, if you talked to me for an hour, you might think Asperger’s made sense (I can have conversations, I might even look in your general direction, I might stall out a little, and I’d really rather talk about my cat than anything else, and the stimming is still there, but controlled). On my very worst days… well, you wouldn’t talk to me for an hour, because I wouldn’t be responsive, but I act more like someone with moderate autism (more obvious stimming, a lot less focus, much more in my own world than in yours). Even when I’m not talking and not responding, even when you don’t think I’m there… I want your company! I’m all the same person, so just treat me like you normally would. I kind of worry that anyone reading my blog will think that I’m one of the “fakers” because I seem normal in writing. I often have long conversations with a friend just by typing when I can’t get it together to speak well or understand others speaking to me. My writing is almost always in tact, and, I think, comprehensible. The words are in my head, and when I write, it’s like cornering and capturing them. When I try to speak, they float around, and sometimes I can peg down the ones I need. You can read this and see it as one continuous thought, but I might have taken 2 hours to write it out.
So, where am I on the spectrum? Professionals call it high-functioning autism. My parents call it “Lydia land.” I don’t really know. As long as there are cats, though, I’ll happily stay there.