The entirety of this was too long so I had to break parts of it:
It’s a long story, starting all the way back from when I first started school. I am 18 years old with Asperger’s and I wasn’t as excited about college as the extroverts in my high school were. In fact, I may have been the only introvert. That aside, though. I am very depressed now that I started college because I feel so alone now that I’m on my own. How did this happen? Well, yesterday, in English, our professor asked us to write down what burns inside us. I just said that I wanted to be understood and loved for who I was as a human being. During my college process, I started getting worried because I live in the suburbs and the college is all the way in the city, so I have to commute and take the train there and later back home. My mom is finding an apartment in the city for the both of us to live in. No, my parents aren’t getting a divorce, but I’ll get to that. Rather than go to a depression forum about this, I figured that it would be best to vent about this on a college website, particularly this one. Onto the subject:
I am a very shy person, and I rarely open myself up to others, especially in class. If you were to describe my life, it would best be labeled a “tragedy.” Since I was diagnosed with Asperger’s (High-functioning autism) at the age of 5, that was when I first learned to speak. I only learned how to comprehend things by observing others. My first pre-school was composed of bullies and terrible teachers. One of them who was later arrested for child molestation and drug possession. I knew this because it was on the news. I can’t tell if I was molested or not because I didn’t remember it. That probably meant I wasn’t molested, anyway, but it still left a scarring image in my mind. My parents also started not getting along with each other due to money and relationship issues. I can’t say how much each person makes, but I’ll say that my mom is older and makes more money than my dad. I refer to them as mom and dad because my heart is composed of a lot of long-gone childhood innocence that I wish to keep. I’m probably not even Ivy-League material anyway because I don’t refer to them as “mother” and “father.” The only way I can do this is by staying abstinent from drugs and alcohol and “dank memes.” I spent my summer watching those and Family Guy videos because I was too depressed to do anything and I was too busy with my job, so a lot of it had to do with quick thinking and multitasking; something that I couldn’t do. Sometimes I ask myself if my writing is good or not because I’m too much of a failure to begin with.
As I progressed in grade school, I had a hard time coping with and understanding other students and was often pushed around due to my mental illness(es). Therefore, my mental illness made me an outcast. My grade school in the city that I grew up in almost half of my life became defunct due to insurance fraud and being too expensive. The church, however, is still available, meaning that it was a Catholic School, a label that would stay with me until 12th grade. As my family and I moved to the suburbs, my sister and I would wound up going to an Elementary School near our house. Bullies still persisted, both students and teachers. My 3rd grade teacher even called me a “big baby.” I had difficulty understand social cues and the conflicts between my family would grow worse and worse. Later in 3rd grade, I had a tutor (I forgot to mention that I had a tutor in 2nd grade). Two, actually. One of which was nice and the other a big fat bitch (sorry if I said that). The first helped me from 3rd to 4th grade a lot with my problems but we had some trouble communicating with each other. The second helped me during 5th and 6th grade and was downright stern and evil, and would threaten to call my father if I wasn’t doing something right. She would also keep a journal for my progress to keep track of what I was doing, whether good or bad. One time, during midterms, I was reading my journal and a bunch of students were snickering and I said to them: “BE QUIET! I’M TRYING TO FOCUS!” My tutor thought that I was talking back to the teacher, so she wrote that down and framed me. I forgot to mention a few things regarding my family, so I’ll get to that in a minute. Every day, she’ll put her journal in my backpack for my dad to see. When he saw what was written in the journal, my dad threw a fit and said: “GODDAMNIT” while slamming the folder on the ground constantly. My dad also said “YOU’RE GOING TO LIVE NO LIFE” after having a record of bad grades that all required a signature. He also threatened to send me to military school, due to my bad grades.
As for my family, my family got into a multitude of fights. In 2007, my parents were fighting about taxes and were afraid of going to jail. My dad got so angry that he slammed the door and broke a coffee mug which nearly injured my sister. I couldn’t vividly remember the entire fight, so please forgive me. In 2008, my family was fighting about something, but this time, it was mainly due to their personalities and their relationship. That was when I remembered that they repressed their feelings for each other, which is why they don’t want to bother with one another because they don’t have a lot in common. My mom taught my sister and I not to be like our dad at a young age, meaning no eating cheetos or junk food in the morning and no golfing. In fact, my entire family hated me, which is why my grades were low most of the time, even if I had the potential to do better. However, coupled with the notion of growing up in an urban area, I had immense difficulty in school and life overall.
Due to the impending loneliness, I began to talk to myself, in which I would later develop symptoms of OCD. I read more often and isolated myself from others. I was often picked last on the kickball team and was terrible at sports. My comprehension skills were weak, yet I was very good at math. However, one time, in 6th grade, my tutor said “You’re not doing your way, you’re doing it their way” when I was doing a math problem. I honestly felt that my way was easier because I knew it was. Later in 6th grade, my relationship with my tutor would get worse and I would later stand up to her abuse by slamming on the table when asked to move and later cry about it because I was scared. The tutor would later be removed from the staff and I would be on my own for the remainder of my school career. After I graduated, I spoke to a neurologist and therapist. The former was terrible and the latter became underused. In August of 2010, I was falsely accused of hitting my mother when I wanted to play video games. When my dad intervened, he said: “So what do you want me to do, beat the shit out of him?” After my mom convinced him to yell at me, he called my name down and asked me if I hit her. While we pushed, she was the only that started it, so I can’t say it was hitting. Not to mention, she was taller than me. I said yes, even if it was a lie, then my dad charged right at me and threatened to beat me up. He threw me across the floor and said: “MOVE!” I ran upstairs crying and my entire family called me a monster for what I did. It was almost as if I deserved it. My dad took a drive and called me a child and a failure and threatened to send me to military school if I did not follow a set list of requirements like waking up in the morning and taking a shower everyday. My parents believed in the philosophy that everyday showering is important, even though it isn’t.