Somedays, and some places feel like this… at least its not so debilitating that I can still function when going through an overload, but somedays its tough. The other day, my daughter was playing around and screamed in a really high pitched voice. My inner parts of my ear literally hurt walking all the way into the house. It took them several minutes to recover. Loud dishes clanging in my sink hurt my ears the say way… The sad part is, I can’t turn this off, and because I look completely normal, people don’t understand what its like to go through that specific kind of pain. After a full day of sensory overload, I may not meltdown in public, thank God, but I am exhausted…
Last Thursday, I had my first appointment with a mental health professional to see about an official diagnosis for Asperger Syndrome. I knew before-hand that I would not get a diagnosis simply because I don’t have the right equipment between my legs, the right hormones running through my body, the right social structures created specifically for a certain equipment between my legs, or the right synapses firing in my brain to produce the adequate behavior rituals that have been repetitively recorded in databases that say, This is what Asperger Syndrome looks like. Yes, the professionals can only judge a book by its cover, if they are only half-assing their career. Apparently she just likes her paychecks.
I didn’t really give it much thought, about how much research I had done on the subject versus how much research this professional had on the subject. She made it very apparent that her degree and personal experience with individuals with AS, made her abundantly qualified to withhold my diagnosis. I was, in two hours, immediately downgraded to a person who simply has social anxiety, ADD (not correctly, ADHD), and that professionals could help me more than my ‘inadequate’ internet research. But worse was her subtle attitude towards me.
To be blunt, the only thing professionals of this knowledge level could really help me with is giving me a piece of paper I could take to my college to let them know that when I don’t show up for class it’s not because I’m lazy and uncaring, as if they couldn’t tell from my high GPA. I’d like medical proof so that I can have the same chance as a NT at earning my degree. I kept telling her I need the right kind of therapy to really help me so I can learn social skills that will help me get a job. So I can get my daughter therapy so she can understand me better. I gave her all the research. She gave me three choices for my ‘social anxiety’ and asked me, which one I thought would help me the most.
Seriously? I’m sure taking classes on social skills couldn’t hurt, but who in that class is going to understand when I protest that their methods are not helping someone? Please tell me, Mr. or Ms. Professional, how would you go about turning off 100 human radio transmitters when out in public? Tell me, how well can you function when all 100 of those people create so much havoc in your body you can’t think straight? Would you just carry on as usual, with a smile on your face, making sure to keep the conversation focused on the other person? Ahhh, how could I be so stupid as to miss that logic!
I apologize for my cynical attitude, but my life with doctors has been just this way. Degrading and offensive. And after I try their ‘tried and tested methods’, next they will tell me, something to the effect of, you’re just not trying hard enough. Yeah, I’ve been hearing that one for years along with, I must not be doing it right.
And by not doing it right, did you mean that I failed to grow the right equipment between my legs at conception?