I don't have autism. At least I don't think. I only found out in 2011, when I was 42, something odd. At age 7, about 1975, I saw a nice lady psychiatrist. She talked to me for a while and probably gave me a couple of tests. Then at one point she kept asking me to come in the room and leave and come back in again. That is all I remember. Then at the end the of the visit she had me come in again. She said, allegedly to my parents, I think he is all right. "Perfectly normal" is all I remember her saying for sure. Take him home, he'll be all right. Anyways, in 2011 another doctor said she thought I did have a slight problem. Possibly Schizotypal Personality Disorder. But I guess didn't need therapy or medicine because I was very well behaved. Then in 8th grade, 1981-2, I started innocently looking at the boy in my class. Just looking. Nothing else. And h*** broke loose. He started yelling at me and giving me these pouty looks. Like he was about to cry, sometimes. Then he started getting me in trouble. For note-passing. At one point, I was in Miss S's room, holding an innocent paper. The boys saw it and tackled me and wrestled it out of my hand. CK said, well. It's innocent this time. But I'll put it on Miss S's desk. Let her decide for herself IOW, he told me. Finally Miss S told my mother at the end of the year my three teachers wanted to talk her. I want you to come in for "a little unfinished business" she told my mother. (Miss S had such a warped sense of humor. I'm serious.) My mother told me the three teachers said the note-passing had got out hand. If passed just one or two, okay. But I passed several that year. As I said, I suspect boys were just getting me trouble to make the boy I looked at feel better and get revenge (he looked like one of those models in ads, BTW). My note-passing required therapy now, they told Mom. Mom was reluctant. But she took me to a nearby hospital where we live. There were two social workers. A nice one and a mean one, we later recalled, Mom and me. I got the mean one. He sounded like he was interrogating. Actually I think he was making fun of me. I am quite serious when I saw that. He asked stupid questions. Mainly do I have a slight degree of OCD. I actually do. I think my teachers may have noticed that early on. I answered no, no, no to all of his questions. Because I was humiliated. "Note passing? Note passing? Note passing???" I kept saying to myself. And plus like I said, he was making fun of me. No had ever talked to me like that before in my life. Well, he told me at the end of the interview. You answered no to everything. And that is good. It's a relief to hear that. But that note passing. It got out of control. You need help! Anyways, my mother later told me, that guy was way too rude. And note passing? My mother agreed. That is ridiculous. Let's just forget about this all and move on. Anyways, so I don't know if I have autism (as you can see above). I do have Schizotypal Personality Disorder. And in 2011, a doctor confirmed that I obviously have cerebral palsy. A mild case, probably due to birth trauma he said. I have had a weird way of walking all my life and weakness in all my limbs. (You know, children, note passing or not. That handsome boy above could have done some serious damage to me. He was very very angry, that I looked at him. And that I passed notes. I cannot defend myself due to CP. I am very weak physically. I also bruise easily.) Actually, a lady friend told me recently my CP could have caused some other problems too, besides movement and strength. Interesting. Anyways, now you know about me. I also wanted to add: I eventually found out my mother was asking my friends mothers for them to play with me. And when I found out, I had no problem with that. Why not? I thought it was a good idea actually. And then my mother and I reached an understanding. My mother said if you ever want to play with a kid in your school, just tell me. And I'll ask their mother. My mother was wise that way. But you know, as I said on FB once. Those are really the lessons you should learn early on in life. To play with some kid, if he needs someone to play with then. Or to play with someone who is different or just finds it hard to make friends. It requires sacrifice of the kids. And they have to sometimes give up a little their time and leisure too. But that lesson will stay with them for the rest of their lives. And then they will teach it to their children.
Another story from GS. At the end of our lunch hour in the 8th grade, I would always sit by the waste basket and finish my lunch by eating my apple there. And the kids would always ask me why. And they thought it was funny. But there was a reason I ate my apple there. I have difficulties swallowing. I can do it, but swallowing is slow and I have to give the food a little extra push to get it down. There actually might be a reason for that. My cerebral palsy seems to affect my lungs, throat and mouth. Even back then, my lungs would literally get tired. Like one doctor told me recently, lungs should never get tired. I think a couple other areas of my body might be affected too.
Like most autistic people are you an animal lover. When a boy of about 10 went missing in our area, everyone was in panic. Then when we got home, we found him asleep on our settee, cuddling our cat.
I'm only going to say this once. But I was telling people. That guy might be monitoring my activity on Facebook and Twitter. What's his problem?
I was going to say about that boy from GS, who will remain nameless of course. I guess he was trying make an issue of the fact I was gay in the 8th grade. I had no problem with it. Our principal seemed to have no problem with it. And this was in a conservative Catholic GS, BTW. But you know about him. He told us he was dating another girl from the GS, from the same grade of course, the year before. I think he even said before that IIRC. There's nothing wrong with being gay. But dating someone at age 11 or 12. That sounds kind of odd. Or maybe not.
Also on unequal treatment in that GS in general. The teachers there at one point started telling me I shouldn't use big words. Yeah. I started using big word early on. Perhaps even by the first or second grade I think. And the teachers finally told me. Some of the kids complained it sounded too "gay" to them, my big words. I'm serious. Actually, on the subject of gay in general, our principal Sr. F seemed to have no problem with me being gay at all. FWIW, in the 8th grade she finally revealed that to me. Yeah, I felt guilty of using big words for years. I was telling a doctor friend what happened once. In HS I avoided using the word "upon" in a report. Upon. Because I was told in GS all big words were evil to use. I'm serious.
Also the stumbling around thing. Around my mother's funeral, 1996, everyone at the same time, seemed to start ordering me to sit down. Because I stumble around when I walk, and it was bothering people. I can't help the way I walk, I should have told them. I later found out I have cerebral palsy.
