Hello, about me, and HELP ME!

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Ok, first off, I'd like to say hello. I am a 20 year old male from Pennsylvania with high functioning asspergers. I am a passionate musician (guitarist, left handed!) and currently a history education major at university. Of course, if this was anywhere else in the world, I would not mention that I had asspergers.... for I am ashamed of it.... I am ashamed of WHAT I am because society views us as "disabled".

I know it's not the best thing to pour one's life story on a forum, but no one else will listen to me (they'll hear me, but they'll interupt and begin to spew bullcrap, since the functionalist view from sociology seems to be more existent then my sociology professor stated.)

When I was a kindergardener, I thought I was just like the other kids. But one day, they began taking me to a class called "speech". Of course, I was the only one who went there, for some unknown reason. I asked why I was the only one, to which she replied with "OH, because your

Ever since I found out about my "disability", I've dedicated my entire life (without even knowing it) to try and hide it. I took acting classes, stage and theater, Improv classes, dialects, classes in psychology and sociology, radio djing, and studied body language extensively. I began to dress differently as well. I took upon the uniform of my favorite music; rock and roll and heavy metal. I grew my hair long, wore leather jackets, heavy metal shirts, and medieval cuffs, so that I could incite fear into others, before they could see my fear of them... I always felt awkward in some crowds, so when I became the dark metal guitarist, I felt safe... and I was (except from bias toward that sort of look... and police officers.). I learned to lie like an expert to keep people from knowing my dark secrets, as well as the ones that were a direct or indirect result of it. I've lived a lie for years.

I recently went in for surgery... about a month ago.... and after then, that's when my problems began... the ones that will lead up to where I am right now...

Since over the years, one twisted hearted psychiatrist has put me on many medications after I became depressed in 7th grade and tried to kill myself (the middle school bullies were horrible, I couldn't stand them any longer... and no one understood me or listened since I was awkward and dorky, and had strange tastes(hearing and dismissing does not count)). This guy decided that putting me on anti depressants, along with my ritalin, was the way to go... instead of listening to me problems... since I am such a "disabled' little freak to them...

Anyway, one of my meds that this quack gave me interacted with the anisthesia and as the psychiatrists say "raised the serotonine level". After I got out, I had trouble getting to sleep at night, so I tried taking some night time cold pills (since it said "drowsey" or something). It only got worse. Eventually, my roomate got me real sleeping pills. At this point, the serotonine levels were so high, I started seeing things, halucinating... more like flashes though, and objects began to change shape.

It was also during this time that I had a "Focus Channeling" in learning about my so called "disability", which I thought, at the time, was accurate. After going to this forum and finding autism studies for the benefit of aspies, I began to understand that I was not a freak after all, but almost a different species of humans. I began to write a book about my life... since my mother wanted me to anyway, after I finally got it through to her head how it felt for me growing up (not fully though).

I got help from my step dad who's a doctor himself. The quack psychiatrist wanted to once again have me put away and hospitalized.... I love how fast this guy always jumped to that answer. So anyway, I spent some time and allowed the "TOXINS" to get out of my system, and then return to school. It didn't end here.

And then came an anger about religion. Since I was Jew in a small town when growing up, experiences weren't very plesant, considering that many people kept trying to convert me, while many of them also reminded me daily that I was going to hell. So, I automatically formed a biased out of defense towards anything with crosses, bibles, and "jesus"... I was one of the most unique people in that town... and they wanted to take one part a way from me, and shame the other part. I eventually left Judaism and became an athiest. I ended up channel focusing this as well. I wrote article after article about assimilation and how disgusting it was that certain religions did it... also known as "converting. Eventually, I started to connect things in society, and realized that people were brain washed (please, bare with me, I'm not trying to make a theological argument or start one, I'm just saying what happened.). I started to read up on things about synchronisty, and eventually some how figured out that my fate was tied to a metal singer (A german singer who's music saved my life during the years that my parents go divorced.). Eventually, I snapped out of this and returned to the sociological perspective on things.

I was so angry about how each of my student organizations were corrupt. I can't say how, and the details, because my identity might be revealed.

I've also been thinking about quiting college to become a rock guitarist, since it's one of the things that has helped me through the worse. Of course, while my mom has financially supported me, she does not support it in spirit. She tells me that I will be on my own if I do that, and the money that's going toward my college would go else where. She always talks about "well, you can have your music career, and then have your B plan... but you're going to have to get through college." but that's when the best years to tour are. On the other hand, I love college and the environment. It's really opened up my eyes (I tried music degrees there, but it felt like my passion became a burden... which I couldn't stand to have happen.)

She eventually told me that I was cut off after fighting with her for not being willing to listen to me without telling me how things are for once. I told her that the family did that to me all of my life, and unintentionally used my "flaw" and "medication" as a way of hanging things over my head. I wanted credibility, and I wanted her to work on the bias that the psychologists and psychiatrists had caused due to incomplete research.

Then the worst thing ever happened... my lab top computer crashed after inserting a faulty disc of a rare album from my favorite metal singer. It was available from this little man who was selling cds in the union building of my campus. The fact that I've had to go so long without internet (which I use to talk to musicians like me, who can relate to my struggles, and now here... which I should have visited earlier).

More people claiming to know what they were talking about, even though they didn't, as well as a random call to public safety by someone, which resulted in a residential Director and a cop to show up at my door. Of course, they ask the quesions "do you have any thoughts of suicide or hurting yourself... or others?" Luckily, since I was a brilliant actor, I convinced them that my friend had pulled a prank on me by busting up laughing and saying that he out did the prank I pulled on him... worked like a charm. I wasn't even suicidal, just angry and frusterated that people couldn't relate to me and instead alienated me, while trying to put me in my place by trying to tell me how things are. This only makes me even angrier, since they did that to me all of my life, and I was sick of it.

I felt like I had very little control over my own life as a kid due to my conditions and environment. My mother was pulling a "Nurse Ratchet" on me by using guilt, fear, and dissapointment. I hated her for this. Everyone always convinced that I was the one who was wrong, and I felt ashamed and guilty all the time. I'm not trying to sound like a victim, but I'm running out of time before what seems to be the inevitable.

Anyway, after years of having a strong lust for life, I got sick of it... and the fact that I didn't even have control over my own death. I couldn't even end my life if I wanted to (which I didn't really want to until recently). I decided that I wanted to die with honor after finally taking all that I could. I would return to my house and grab my japaneese wakzashi, and commit seppuku, an honorable samurai death (I'll spare the gruesome details). I wanted to take the sword with me and die on a certain mountain where a dear friend of mine did... whom I was close to. I told myself that they would not take this last right away from me, and that those who stood in my path would be neutralized for attempting to "help me" (which basically could result in being in a mental institution most of my life, living in humilation, knowing that I was not crazy, just suffering from outgoingness, offbeat and complex humor, and a passioniate for being a rebel, since I was born a stranger. And outspokenness equivalent to Ted Nugent's). I was tired of people's help, in which they tried to figure out what pill could shut this freak up.

On the car ride home, I decided that I would listen to my favorite metal cd one last time. But one track that has always inspired me came through again. It convinced me that there had to be something beyond... but while alive. The lust for life became strong in me again... but the fact is... I made a few mistakes.

I accidently said the word "suicide" to my mother over the phone. I also accidently let it slip to one roomate. I realized that since I had just done this, legally (I'm a former Psych major) my mental state was considered to be compensated, meaning they could take me away to the mental hospital against my will. When I got home, she called me and asked if I wanted to stop at the hospital to talk to a counselor. I was suspicious... I decided to take a chance, since this guy was most likely going to not prescribe MORE medication to me, but instead, listen. Boy, was I wrong.

I started talking to him... and he said "yeah, maybe we can up your medications!". This guy not only tried to put more pills in me, but he was a bit of an unsympathetic jerk. He asked the cardinal question "are you having suicidal thoughts, or do you have plans to hurt yourself?". I had to be careful about this one... If I answered in an awkward or incorrect manner, I was screwed. He wanted to bring back my psychiastrist and have him diagnose me (padded room time!). I said no way. So he asked me what I wanted to do, or else he'd discuss with his supervisor. I said "I thought you were going to actually LISTEN instead of spew ignorant crap from your mouth like so many unqualified people(many of the so called experts are, since they manage to turn so many good things about us into negatives without fully understanding it). He said he'd talk to his supervisor and told me to wait in the tiny room that we were talking in. No way in heck. They could have misinterpreted my reponse to the suicide questions, in which I stated that while it could be interpreted as a suicide plan, it isn't, but rather that I would like to leave society, so that I do not have to suffer ridicule. I had mapped out an island that I wanted to sail to. This was and still is in the making.

If they would have decided to hospitalize me, there would have been no escape from that tiny room, so I stood out in the halway, with two exits ready. I put my rings on, getting ready to for hand to hand, just in case. They weren't going to take me alive. He came back... alone, and told me that he wanted to bring in my quack of a psychiatrist to diagnose me, or he would send me to another psychiatrist. I was pissed at this guy, and pissed at my mom for not mentioning that he wanted to talk to me so that I could get more pills in me.... you know... cause they certainly cured me of ALL of my problems. I told this guy neither, and told him I thought he was actually going to LISTEN to me instead of judge me. He called it "evaluate"... same freaking thing... word twisting jerk! Since I had idiotically signed a sheet saying that my mother could view this, she was brought in. The Counselor at least had the balls to let me do the talking... at first.

I yelled at my mom for deceiving me and saying that he JUST WANTED TO TALK TO ME! Of course, she wasn't sorry since she knows what's best for her little freak of a child. I began to tell her the news, at which point, she turned to the counselor and said "what's the plan?". This was the ultimate slap in the face. I told both of them to go screw themselves, and left.

I returned to the house and locked myself in the computer room... this is where I am now. I am just cooling off in here, but prepared for something that could happen. I know that when she returns, it's going to be like before, where she confuses her arrogance for wisdom and tries to tell me what's what, I know I am going to get enraged with it, along with every other event in my life like that one. I'm afraid that I might accidently let it slip that I had planned to kill myself... which officially compensates my mental state... allowing her to have the police bust in....I'm scared... really scared... I feel like I can't trust my own family, or even my own friends. I have never met any one else who had asspergers or autism before... because it reminded me of the thing that I was ashamed of... even though I now know the truth... there is a aspie cultuer .

Please, help me! I don't know what to do.... I feel so alone.... I know it's not the best introduction post, but please don't judge me harshly. I'm so scared... I've never talked with another aspie before (at least as far as I know). I've tried to leave out as much as I could. All I want is just for someone to listen, and the rate that I am going at, my psycholigst appointments aren't enough to keep up. It seems like the unfortunate events keep coming faster and more frequently (I haven't even listed all of them). Thank you for reading... Please... be kind with the responses. I don't think I can continue living knowing that I'm truly alone...

Hey there. Well I am in a different time zone and for me it is bedtime, only had 4 hours in the last 48 hours of sleep. I will read this again in the morning and write longer but dont worry, I am listening, and I would stay longer now but I only noticed this before rushing to bed. Hang on for one more day and we will see what to do. Please just bear with us all.

Thank you. I wish I would have discovered this place earlier. They're trying to talk me out of staying in here, and coming out allowing them to "do what they think is best for me". It makes me absolutely upset that they don't understand what I am saying, and even refusing. I just hope that they don't realize anytime soon that while I was locked in here, I practiced some of my old Katana parrying techniques and sliced a ceiling lamp in half. There's pieces of glass every where.

I'm not alone anymore, and it feels good

I was in kind of the same situation as you last year, that is, trying to avoid being hospitalized and trying desperately to just get someone to LISTEN. Do NOT mention the suicide plan. When they convinced me to go to the hospital, being in the new environment freaked me out and I had panic attack after panic attack. I was lucky, my mom was on my side and she came and got me out before I was officially committed. But being as aspie, new places, all that change, and no one to guide you through it is NOT a good idea. First, you've got to calm down. Then, you should apologize for getting upset (i know, you're not sorry, but this is to get them off your back). Then, fake it. Act your way out of it. Be reasonable, polite, and decline any help that you don't want. I'm on aim if you want to talk.

Oh, and clean up that glass. You've got to appear sane and broken glass makes u come across as looking like a threat.

help, their coming in after me soon!

Oh god... I went beserk in an axiety attack, and went downstairs with the katana. They were waiting down there, and I "unleashed the fury" (literally), screaming at them telling them what they were doing to me. I think I stabbed through a few things... I can't remember... they didn't say a word... I came back up here, thinking that they now understood, and i thought now I could calmly explain to them that what they were about to do to me was the worse thing possible.

I stuck my head out, told them to pick up the phone, to which my step dad said "I don't talk to people who threaten with swords.". He said that I had to come down there. I'm sick of them getting the say! I'm sick of them having the power! Telling me that I'm GOING to come out of that room. I say "what are you going to do to get me out?" and their response is "YOU'RE going to open this door!". Did anyone else get treated like this?

If they thought I was going to commit suicide (which I am not, since I need at least a life time to learn about the unique "specie" that I am, and at least an eternity to get to know you all. Thank you so much! This means the world to me that SOMEONE can understand and not talk down to me. I feel safe here on the forum, and in this room. I'm usually good with lots of stimulation, I think it's just the lack of credibility, and the social awkwardness, and the frustrations that come with it.

I'm going to continue writing that book to get the term "disability" removed.

Just relax. Freaking out is not going to help.

well whatever you do dont kill yourself. take yourself out for a drink and go for a drive with the windows down in the countryside you will thank yourself later, goodluck!

Kill myself!? Heck no! The last line of defense is NOT that, nor is it killing. It's telling Bob Saget's horrible America's Funniest Home Video Jokes. Alright, back in the saddle on a horse named Wit.

its better to be lame than dead

It would be best if you could remove yourself from this situation, i.e. leave and avoid contact with these people (and generally any people who wish to impose themselves on you). Do you have somewhere you can go?

ok, we've talked it out. This about my depression, and their saying that this is the quickest way to get back on track. it's supposed to be like a regular hospital or something. ever since the surgery, it's been one episode of pure rage after another. I've lost at least 15 pounds (i was 130 originally, so now I am officially as tall and lighter than randy rhoads). Don't worry, I'm ready should they try anything funny I am going to have my lab top repaired during this period, and I'll be back on.

thanks everyone.

About in my mid-teens, I threw down my meds. It really went against my parents' wishes, who were completely convinced that they were the only thing keeping me from going insane and killing somebody. Yes, the idiots were literally keeping me drugged up instead of actually thinking once about my lot. The reality of it, though, was that I'd become positively as mean as a snake when I was off my meds. For me, it was a pleasant change from being huddled up in a corner feeling desolate, but I had a lot of anger in me over what they had done. PTSD: insomnia, aggressiveness, depression, dissociation. Yep. That was me, flashbacks and all. When off those horrible meds, I'd just suffer from the normal symptoms of PTSD. Disturbing, yes, but better for me than what I had been going through.

Just want you to know, I understand somewhat where you're coming from. I've since discovered something really beautiful about myself: by nature, I'm really a warm, naturally happy person. I hardly ever snap at people anymore. It takes time, but you'll get better. Just trust me.