Today was a day I’d been waiting for for about half a year now. And it has left me no better than before, no questions answered, nothing gained. This post, and I hope you forgive that, is not just me telling you more about myself, but rather me trying to handle what’s going on at the moment. No, nothing horrible happened, but I’d put some hope into today and have been, as always, disappointed.
What had happened? Half a year ago the possibility was taken to me that I might have an Asperger’s syndrome. I’m not one to just reject such a possibility, as there are many things wrong with me. In the near half a year the evaluation took in the end, I’d ample time to read about the subject and familiarize myself with the syndrome.
Through my research I’ve found ample characteristics that you could attribute to me. I want to make it clear here, however, that I did not self-diagnose myself. Still, I’m not dumb and no one knows me half as good as I myself. Not to forget that I had a quarter century to think about… well, myself and how I bungle through life. So the clear rejection of me being autistic came a bit as a surprise.
Truthfully, I’d hoped I’d be categorized with Asperger. Not because I want to “become an autistic” but because that would have meant to give things a face, to give it a name. It would have meant that there was nothing wrong with me, but that I was simply different all this time. Now, the only thing that’s left is the feeling that no, I wasn’t different per se, I simply failed. Failed to be normal, to get a grip on my life, to actually live.
That’s a very drastic view and many people have said that it lacks any logic (which would normally deter me, as I’m a purely logical person), but I cannot shake the feeling of coming up short, of doing less, much less, than I should have. Writing this, and it’s most likely coloured by recent events, I feel like I got tested again and again, only to fail miserably. Everything I’ve worked for in my life (and most of it is so basic stuff most people don’t even need to think about, like grocery shopping), the semblance of normality, is still not up to par and what “excuse” do I have now?
Instead of the aspergers, she diagnosed me with insecurity and anxiety disorder (not sure what the actual name is in English). For that diagnosis I wouldn’t have had to take up the six months, as I’ve basically known that for years. It is disheartening to go to such sessions and then hope for something, anything, that would give me another piece of the puzzle that’s my twisted mind. Instead, I’m left with no more knowledge than I’d possessed before.
I’d not dared to hope for something that might give me a better grip on myself, for something that I could work with. And right now, I need something, need a piece of this puzzle, a big one, to come to terms with what I am and what I can do to accomplish more but vegetate, barely alive. But I’ve come up empty handed and am unsure how to proceed from here on out.
Does it sounds strange to read about someone that “wanted” to be categorized as autistic? I hope you don’t misunderstand me here, because it’s not that I wanted to be categorized as Asperger, it’s rather that I’m looking for something, anything really, than makes it possible for me to understand why.
In the end, not only did I learn nothing new, the diagnosis failed to encompass many things I’d told the psychiatrist. I’m still waiting for the written diagnosis, so more might be incoming, but (for me) important aspects were felt out. That’s, of course, not ideal and contributes towards my feeling of dissatisfaction with the diagnosis.
Today did not help and my hope for it was unwarranted. Now I’m left in a void, unsure of how to proceed. I’ll be taking a couple days to come to terms with the diagnosis, to see what’s next on the agenda of holding the pieces of me together. In the end, only time will tell, and I’m ever patient.