I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers

I have wished not to have Asperger's, but to be honest, despite having AS, the only person that ever held me back was me. Not saying being teased or bullied didn't help my perception, but it was also "NTs" that encouraged me to grow. Getting diagnosed last year was not a means to give me an excuse, but an opportunity to improve. Though I still sometimes wish I didn't have #Aspergers, I try not to wallow in my socially contrary nuances. #Aspie but try and improve on the aspects of my being that are unique to my own special kind of grace (which is a work in progress).

Still Getting Sorted

From being on Twitter I've come across some engrossing, insightful, and brilliant blogs making me aware that my blog does not fit the fore mentioned adjectives. Though I've struggled with the challenges of having Asperger's Syndrome my whole life, I didn't actually know that I had Asperger's until I got diagnosed less than a year ago. I went from just being "weird" and socially awkward to having a syndrome. Having a diagnosis does more than just name the reason why I am the way I am, it also changes my perspective of myself. Before gaining insight or wisdom, I first have to experience my life with having Asperger's Syndrome, which differs greatly from my former life as the weirdo. This may seem to be just semantics, but it is not. Pre diagnosis was a life of self ignorance and loathing without any opportunity to improve myself. Knowing I have AS opened a whole new and vast uncharted world of self awareness. My self esteem and self tolerance improved, however I'm still working on my confidence. Hopefully, in time, my journey will yield some insight that I can share that may help others on their journey of self awareness.

Aspie Misadventure in Aisle Two

I was just remembering the time my love (I've been with the man too long to call him by boyfriend, and we're not married so husband is out, and fiancee is too much of an anal fantastic word) and I went to the store to buy light bulbs, and I called this guy out who was verbally abusing his daughter in aisle two. All 5' 2" 120lbs of me confronting a man several times my weight and height. So the large guy comes bounding toward me like an enraged bull, bellowing epithets, red faced and finger pointed like a vestigial horn. We crossed words, but I don't recall what was said, probably because I don't speak asshole. The funny thing was, considering the hulking juggernaut of violence and rage headed in my specific direction, I didn't feel anything. Neither flight nor fight, which does not bode well for my sense of self preservation. I just stood there feeling calm and focused, and for someone with Asperger's, that is a rare and coveted state of grace.

The large guy stopped short of course, and I glared at him with a dare in my eyes. Having prematurely spent his testosterone pay lode, and not quite making the money shot, all he had left was, "She's my daughter! MY daughter!"

To be fair, I was not much more loquacious with my quiet reply, "Then treat her like you love her."
I was then encouraged strongly by my love's wise words, "Hon, we need olive oil," and was ushered away to aisle six.

On the way home I reviewed my mental shopping list, and simultaneously ripped off a credit car commercial:

Light Bulbs - check
Olive Oil - check
Unresolved Daddy Issues - TBD