“Just another kid”…till…

in late 1999. As previously stated, I was confronted with the disorder in the end of the 20th Century. The worst timing to be told you’re different, but not only that but a disorder that no one really knew about. Factor diverting out of district to the infamous Seacoast Learning Collaborative (a big proponent of “restraint and seclusion” as well as just zero-tolerance on anything that makes you happy.)

I had some noticeable social quirks, some borderline on the “creepy” level.

But about 80% of me was basically a “normal” as possible of a person. All the pieces I was all became torn apart by professionals who no longer are working with special needs or in a critical level in 2015. They were doing it for their own “social capital” and brown nosing themselves to the top. They didn’t care about the students they were messing up. That would be unprofessional to have any moral duty to protect us.

Meanwhile, as these “professionals” were trained to follow autistics of any ability or inability, by a “spec sheet” as I like to call it, the pages off the DSM IV. And the DSM version at the time was very vague to be quite blunt. One professional would take that definition, and treat me like a retard, or take it another way and say I’m creepy, or that Aspeger’s friend in Lowell has all the dreams in the world since “Only in Massachusetts” can someone whose super high functioning have the dreams they want.

I don’t say I have an acquired brain disorder per se, but I thought like other physically disabled people, they were happy and healthy till something unexpected happened. In my case I found out I was different and struggled whether to be “different” or be like “normal” people. Of course, the back and forth wasted precious time in my teenage years into my twenties.

I still feel like to this day I am very borderline, partially at risk, partially functioning. But I am so in the middle, it’s a crapshoot. I wished this post was a work of fiction.