Not Autistic Enough…

Well 2021 has been one wild ride of tears, physical illness, staring at my fingerboard, the resistance bands hung over it thinking about ending it. A masters that is not going well because mental health, lockdowns. My mum threatening to call the police on me (not the first time..). Pursuing an autism diagnosis and ultimately not getting it and now being down £1200. Maybe I should’t be sharing so much on the internet. Maybe it makes me unemployable but here we are.

And yes when I say 2021 has been a wild ride I know it has been two months and three days. Not like there’s another nearly 10 months left. (I can’t math).

Anyway. The Autism diagnosis or lack therof. Writing helps get my thoughts out. The overwhelming mass of tears. The fear that people think I’m lying, want to be special, manipulative or whatever other negative word people want to insert. The fear for the future. The where do I go next?

I struggled at school. Hung out with people because I had to. I didn’t want to be seen as a loner. And not that I didn’t like some of the people I hung out with. I did. I just never felt like I fit in. That trend has continued throughout my life. I’ve been pushed down staircases, hit over the head with a tennis racket, called a retard, been told my mums a prostitute (she’s not) and many other hurtful things. I’ve been excluded from birthday parties, friendship group cinema or shopping trips, reunions. I’ve been in trouble at school for taking games too far, for violently lashing out or verbally lashing out at people who anyone else would have called my friends. My parents have threatened to call the police on me more times than I can count. I’ve struggled to get a job. I’ve struggled to keep a job. Warned for my personal hygiene (realistically just me not wearing make up and my hair maybe being a but too on the unkempt side. It’s a frizzy mess I can’t help it. Trichtillomania doesn’t help). I’ve had difficulty communicating effectively with my team and manager, interpreting the intentions of what they say. The hotdesking situation caused major anxiety. And yes, I do struggle with personal hygiene although less so if I have to go anywhere. No lockdown has not helped me. I’m a hoarder, get attached to certain clothing items. I had to throw away a pair of jeans the other day that I’ve had since I was 15. Yes it was a sad day and yes according to my mum I should have thrown them ou t years ago. I’ve had difficulty dealing with changes in my bedroom. My dad got rid of the starry wallpaper I had whilst I moved away because it would never have happened whilst I lived in the house. I’ve had that wallpaper since moving into this room. (12 or 13, I’m now 23). I have various food related repetitive issues. Stim. Have to stroke the dog at night until the goodnight feels right or I can’t go to bed. Am a chaotic mess but also have to complete everything on my to do list or I feel like a failure. Even if it’s not completed well or I’m too sick to do it or something comes up. I have major issues with rejection and negative feedback and am awful at maintaining relationships.

I’m saying all this. And this isn’t even all of it to say that I am struggling with something and so you can understand why I feel hella lost and gaslit and like a made a mistake and life sucks.

So start of autism assessment. I believe your autistic and we will reach that outcome today. All goes okay for a while. I meet all of the social criteria. That was no surprise.

And then onto repetitive behaviour. This is a surprisingly restrictive section. What happened. Nothing that fits that neat box and they can’t use food because eating disorder history. Unless there’s concrete evidence of food stuff before. I came off the call and realised I didn’t say everything. Brain fog is a bitch.

The assessor thought my parents filled out the early developmental questionnaire even though when sending it, I made clear that I did. Instead of correcting her I kept up the lie because I cannot communicate effectively (what a shock). I do this. Once a teacher thought I was called Ruth so I spent the whole lesson being called Ruth instead of correcting her. I was 17. It wasn’t intentional. I was honest until the assessor made a mistake and I couldn’t rectify it because I can’t communicate. Lol. God forbid I say someone else is wrong.

And then it got slightly heated cause you know Hannah can’t understand questions or communicate effectively. And basically. Not repetitive enough for ASD. She said other hurtful things after me going into my childhood trauma but I don’t feel able to put them in the written form.

So maybe that avenue is closed. Which just makes everything feel worse to be honest. My parents have drilled into me that I am autistic and they’ve suffered hardships because they didn’t get me diagnosed to protect me and they could have just put me into care. All words that have been said by my dad. My mum, treating me like I am different, like something is wrong, like she needs to fix me and mold me into what she wants.

I’ve had a mentor say to my mum I probably have aspergers (I literally am so fucking paranoid that I used to hack into my mums emails to see what was being said about me). I’ve had friends suggest I’, autistic. Out of kindness. It’s not somthing I’ve made up to be special and I am struggling with something or a lot of things. Who knows what.

I just feel awful after the whole saga. And a week after the left of the list situation when I would be in group 6 if I lived in a different part of the UK is not ideal. I’m not sure what to do now. Or where to go. I know I am very depressed right now and asides from autism traits have many ADHD traits, which I have had for many years. So maybe that’s it? But we’ll have to NHS it because I don’t have money to spare now if I want a break after finishing my masters. Which my mental and physical health needs right now because I am not okay. Maybe I have BPD, maybe I’m bipolar. Maybe I’m just an awful person in every area of life and completely unemployable.

I’m not a professional so I don’t know. My A level psychology doesn’t qualify me to fix myself. Right now. A 6 week building resillience course to cope with the impacts of being chronically ill. If that doesn’t help alleviate the depression then I’ll beg for anti depressents of my GP. Maybe a referral to adult mental health services to try and get to the bottom of my life.

I need to finish my masters this year. But I also need to try and take care of my mental health. To some degree they seem like two contradictory goals because ME is a bitch. Roller skating brings me so much joy but managing it with these exams, appointments, coursework, events applications drains my body. I’ve been running off of caffiene pills and still been feeling very physically unwell. But we will get there and in July I cam have a break and try and not give into my parents pressure to get a job. Of course I’ll need one eventually but I need to take time. I need to stop. I need to sort myself out.

Let’s talk autism, meltdowns and mental health.

Okay I know an employer doesn’t want to read this but I think it’s important to share and writing helps me get my thoughts out.

I’m probably autistic. I say probably because my parents think I am. It’s the word they’ve used against me when I’ve acted really not very mentally well. The word they’ve used to guilt trip me and the word they’ve used to make me feel like I’m a burden on them.

It’s not just my parents though, people with some sort of knowlege of autism have also recognised it. I just don’t have an official diagnosis because my parents wanted to “protect me.” All they’ve done is exclude me even more. All they’ve done is give me more challenges. I’ve not been provided with sensory items to cope with my autism, therapy to help me come to terms with it or been able to access accommodations and awareness in workplaces. This made my last job especially much harder than it already was.

Along with this I have mental health issues. I don’t know what exactly and I definitely think I need further investigations. A lot of the time if I’m up, I’m on top of the world. If I’m down, I’m down to the point it hurts. If I’m up I can be very impulsive and have to stop myself from spending too much. I may make reckless decisions safety wise and have got myself into my overdraft before when I really hadn’t needed to. If I’m up I’ll stay up until 1am, want to stay up more. Make the most of having some sort of energy that’s putting some sort of mask on the ME induced fatigue. I’ll be creative. Start new projects. I’ll be more ambitious, put myself forward more and apply for things. I’ll climb when maybe that’s not the most sensible decision at the time. I’ll not be able to concentrate. 101 things wizzing round my mind at a time. The me who can go out, drink until 4am not sleep at all and climb the next day. The one who is very energised doing so! I’ll feel like superwoman.

And when I’m low, I can’t stop crying. Staring at a screen, with nothing getting done. I may self harm. I get increasingly frustrated at little things. I honestly just want to cease to exist and sometimes I fantasize over the possibility of completing the unliving. I’m so depressed it’s paralysing. Wanting nothing but to curl up in a ball but the your going to fail anxiety wins. Not that I’m productive or able to think straight.

And then there’s the paranoid me, the horrible me. The yeeting phones into walls me. The me who wants to escape so much and is hurting so much that she leaves the house in the dark with nothing but a thin bouse when it’s -3 degrees outside. The me who loses friends and frays relationships with family. I don’t know if that’s an autism meltdown or a sign of another mental illness. But that me is never the one. It’s always distressing and always a blur. I never remember exactly what happened.

Right now I’m low. Low after something my dad said to me when I was acting not at all mentally well. It’s a deep low. A hole I feel just gets deeper the more I try to climb my way out.