Bullies, yeah, what are they good for?

Absolutely nothing.

But i'm biased.  In the evolutionary model, they must serve some purpose, or else they wouldn't be so prolific.  Alpha males, bullies, internet tough guys (trolls) and all there ilk have been gradually getting their proverbial day in court over the last few years. Public media finally started to catch on to the severity of the problem but even after the columbine shooting, it hasn't been enough. More lives have been lost to cyber bullies, a young man jumped off a bridge after someone "outted" him on his campus as being gay, a young girl hung herself, and countless others abound for you to find on the net.

We focus so keenly when something goes wrong but what about the altogether unsexy idea of preventing these kids from having to endure SO much abuse that they break?

I am an anomaly, that's for sure. My survival to this point that is.  As anyone reading this will know, i am open with my being diagnosed with ASD last year and using this blog to attempt to make sense of what that means for me.

I was a great big flashing neon target as a kid. Not only was i a spectrum kid in a time before Aspergers or variations of classic autism were diagnosed, but i was severely asthmatic and allergic to just about everything to boot.  My uncle, who was something of an informal mentor in some respects when i was young said i was a "Bully magnet."  How incredible RIGHT he was.    Of course, no one knew, medically anyways, WHY.

Being weak is always a trigger for sharks and vultures to circle, and my reduced physical condition was a dinner bell for hungry coyotes.  I carried multiple inhalers, including one i took regularly which was an inhaled steroid, indicating the seriousness of my condition.  I had to be rushed to the hospital on more then one occasion due to asthma attacks severe enough that the inhalers failed to work and i was in danger of immediate suffocation.

This is the genetic material i have to work with.  Little kids should not have multiple near death experiences.  I wouldn't recommend it.

Apart from being frail, which made me akward physically,  i was, well, WEIRD as i would become accustomed to hearing, and so you know, double whammy. My gym teachers routinely berated me and made fun of me, quite vocally in front of whole classes, creating a precedent by which other students would participate in making fun of me. If the teacher could do it, well why couldn't they?   I was afraid of swimming because of my suffocation episodes, so i could not complete those requirements. I could not run so i could not play basketball or baseball or kickball or soccer or any number of sports.  I failed every state mandated physical requirement test. You remember, the ones with the running a mile, doing x sit ups, pull ups, push ups, all that stuff.

I was odd and seemed to have no sense of what was acceptable behavior. I did not salute the flag because i did not understand what it's purpose was. I would get out of my seat and walk around the classroom in the middle of attendance, sometimes in the middle of class, and have no sense of it being wrong (this stuff will be further touched on when i write my piece of getting a large chunk of my SCHOOL RECORDS, only a few months ago.) I sat in the back of the classroom and made odd drawing and wrote poetry. I was fasinated with computers and in the 3rd grade had already fixed the schools apple 2 computers in multiple classrooms. I taught myself how.

As a result of all this strange behavior i fell under the axe of a common social phenomena,  DESTROY THAT WHICH IS DIFFERENT.  I was constantly insulted, and when i did not respond back, it was escalated into physical violence against me. I was beat up. Terrorized. Chased home by bullies so often the school just started letting me out 30 minutes earlier then everyone else. I was knocked unconscious in the lunch line when someone punched me in the back of the head.  I was punished for being different by the bullies, and then punished by the administration for "getting into fights." and often suspended and penalized, painted as a bad kid, a troubled child.  I experienced this for most of my time in school from 1st grade all the way until high school.  I was hospitalized as a result of all of this abuse, and i became extremely depressed and was thought to be suicidal. I did in fact have suicidal thoughts,  as a result of all this, and those thoughts were frequently part of my writing. I never had a "plan" and i never made an attempt. I was working through these worries and ideas WITH writing.  I was being constantly monitored, a bug under glass, from the start. Therapists evaluated me every year, different medications were tried, a barrage of tests at every age.

But when they kept reading my writing, and decided i was "Dangerous" they had me thrown in a mental institution.  It was here that after 6 weeks of serious confinement with severely damaged and dangerous adolescents that an alternative picture began to emerge.  The people i was locked up with were frightening to me. A young child that burned his neighbors house down for being bullied. A kid that took his parents car and tried to RUN OVER his tormentors. Multiple cases of attempted suicide, one kid that tried to electrocute himself.  I felt fairly normal by comparison, and that started to show in this confined environment.  Within the first 2 weeks the orderlies and doctors treated me differently.  They gave me my own room instead of sleeping with people that would have night terrors and become violent. They let me stay up later then all the other kids to watch tv, which was an unheard of privilege.  They let me trade some of the food my grandmother had brought me with the staff to order myself a pizza.   They let me have a writing utensil, listen to music, and even play with my Magic cards.   By the end of it that state of NY had deemed me to be sane. Not as i had been depicted by those around me. I was not a violent dangerous monsterous teen, i was a kid who was abused so much, for so long, that i had become aggressive in response to threatening behavior, and taken out of that threatening environment i was relatively OK. Undeniably weird, definitely different,but certainly not "Insane."

I could no longer trust my mother, or another of my stepfathers, as my mother was complicit in me getting to this state, and also had ensured my detainment by taking my written work and sharing it with others, who freely misinterpreted every word.  My stepfather was another source of fear and physical abuse and so, i opted to go into foster care.

Thankfully after a short while my grandparents petitioned the court for custody of me, and i was able to find some relief, but there was STILL more school to complete. Much more to yet to endure.

I think, it if weren't for my ASD, i would have experienced the same end as those tragic cases. Death by my own hands, or a violent act to defend myself against my abusers when no one was present to act on my behalf. Because i always felt this vague emotional disconnection i had always tried to logic out my problems. To find a solution, to solve the puzzle. I didn't take it as personal as a normal kid would.  I was mechanically trying to make sense of why i was so disliked, and in that was, was insulated from the greater harm of knowing exactly what was going on.

Kids on the spectrum now, at least seem to have a fighting chance, but it is still an uphill battle. There are more resources now, early detection is common as well, but that doesn't change human nature.

People will still seek to DESTROY THE DIFFERENT as it is part of the primal reptile brain, and these children CANNOT protect themselves. It is up to you, up to adults, up to society to take responsibility for these kinds of horrors that are visited upon the affected and stand up and protect them.  Go one step further and make the effort to punish those who would abuse or victimize ANYONE in such a way. Drag the bullies and abusers into the light of day. Expose them as the complete monsters they are and make them suffer at the hands of public exposure.   This cruelty should not be allowed to persist. This vile behavior cannot continue.   If we want to prevent these tragedies from occurring and increasing in frequency we must take every step necessary to be better people, better role models, and better stewards of  our youth.

I have so much more to say about bullies, but this experience, and reliving it, is emotionally exhausting, and i need a change of thought, let me leave you with this.

Not many make it through like i did. And i am not without permanent holes in my life and psyche, spectral wounds and scars that can never hope to heal.  I wouldn't wish that fate upon even my worst enemy.

Terms Of Service.

Hello again.   In exploring my own history armed with this new knowledge about myself, i am able to reexamine parts of my life with a greater degree of clarity, to understand the why behind so much of what i am.

One of these traits i developed seemed most apparent from my teenage years about 16-17 onwards.  I had already run the gamut of a decade plus of school. Observed and written about human behavior from my vantage point in the back of the classroom for years.   I knew the patterns and plays by now. I knew what to expect, how people by and large responded to me, all of that. I didn't know WHY exactly people responded to me as they did, i just knew that overwhelmingly, when someone asked me a question, they would not like my answer, and become hostile.  My friendships often had very short shelf life and i was keen to craft some manner of solution to this problem.

I started offering a T.O.S. agreement.

Verbally of course. Though, i have recently met another person with ASD who had said they wrote up an actual "manual of operation" in the style of an automobile manual entitled "The care and maintenance of (name omitted)

You know what a T.O.S. is right? Virtually every time you try to do anything on the internet, sign any contract,  or load a new program, you get hit with the wall of text and the little "Click here to agree" sort of thing right?

Well it was exactly that. I didn't REALIZE it was that, at the time, but hindsight can be quite (painful? miserable? Unpleasant?)  ILLUMINATING. Right that's the proper word.

When someone would ask me a delicate question, or a serious one that was personal, and often times when meeting someone new, or when someone expressed sexual interest in me (pursuant to forming a relationship) i would roll out the terms of service.  I would explain that i was a difficult person, and that the things i tell you and show you cannot un-see or un-hear.  The things that i say to you will always be honest, and they may make you angry, or depressed or self conscious or even suicidal.   I would explain that exposure to me is like exposure to radiation. That i proved toxic, and would inevitably poison you in ways i could not be held responsible for.

Unfortunately, many people did, as you and many people still do.

You skipped past the wall of text and just clicked "I agree."

Naturally this created a huge problem for me.  I was trying to indemnify myself against the anger leveled at me so often, by offering a bright blinking warning sign, but people blithely ignored it thinking, "He can't be SERIOUS." Or thinking "I can handle it. I'll be fine." Only to be a defensive, hostile, blubbering mess a day later screaming "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!"

Don't say i didn't warn you.

I did. I tried my damndest to break the chain of events that always seemed to lead to people being angry at me.   But my sincere TOS agreement ended up being seductive. The challenge was an attractant. It was charming and beguiling.  I endeavored for it to be a serious and useful tool in protecting both myself, and others from the fallout that seemed to follow my interactions, but it failed, time and time again.

I kept doing it of course. An aspie trademark, the inability to course correct in a timely manner.

Trying my best still, in the here and now.  To exist in the world that DOES NOT want me, i tried to create a coping strategy to smooth the edges between me, and everyone else.   I spent the next 10-15 years, all the time up until  and including now, losing friends, alienating people, hating myself for it, and still, the only cold comfort i had at the end of the days as i sat alone in this place was:

Well. I warned you.

An autistic Bohemian samurai introduction.

How do you know who you are?

Hi. 

My name is Erik, and i was diagnosed at 30 year's old with autism spectrum disorder.  Throughout my entire life up to now, i have felt, hopelessly out of place.  A man outside of time.  In the world, but not OF the world. All of my experiences have echoed with the emphasis that i do not belong here.   From the start, i was an outcast, felt strange, had unusual interests and unusual talents. And they knew it.   To get information like this, proof of a feeling that has lingered just under the surface of my consciousness for all these years, i didn't just pursue a capable doctor for 9 months (yes it took 9 months to find a doctor and means to afford seeing one) but i threw myself wholeheartedly into the process of researching.  I, like i'm sure some other's on the spectrum, favor facts over fictions.  A lifetime of trying to parse information the way that neuro-typicals seem to had taught me to be suspicious of the answers they would give me, and that ultimately if i wanted true, satisfying answers that considered all the facts and data, i would have to seek them out myself.  

Humans are terribly poor simulators of experience and information, as has been said by research scientists,  and the data bears that early assumption i had out.  Part of the surrealism of my experience has been just that, uncovering absolutes.  While i researched autism in all it's various permutations, i already had a wellspring of knowledge to draw from about human nature.  

You see, being different, and different in a way that gave me specialized narrow intelligence, lead me to understand a lot of things organically before they were explained to me or "Known" to me by ways of more conventional education.  Before i read so many things in books, before years passed and social sciences allowed for diverse and creative research to puts numbers and facts behind my theories and hypothesis's, i knew.  The surreality has been in living on, and discovering, over and over, that the things i suspected about myself, about others, about the world, about our interactions, were all true.  Each time the science caught up to my intuitive understanding, i felt slightly better about myself, it assuaged a bit of my fear that all those others had built in me, to think i was crazy, or just wrong in existing at all. 

Finding a doctor when your poor was the first hurdle. As a result of my status, i've had extreme trouble finding employment of any kind, or maintaining it.  I am a 6 year college graduate with 3 AS. degrees, but after years of failure in trying to find work in my field of study,  (for what are now OBVIOUS REASONS) i was just trying to get any job. Mediocre retail work was to follow, but only a few jobs over 10 years.  It would take me 10 times the amount of time, applications, interviews, to get the same amount of job offers of other people i knew, the primary reason i surmised was the interviews. The resume looked good on paper, and i would get interview offers fairly consistently, but i would never get a call back again after that.   On the rare occasions that i DID get a job, the pay was almost always minimum wage (even thought i consider myself pretty highly educated) and the work was far below my capabilities.  All of these jobs required a high degree of social dexterity. Not only in interfacing with random customers and having to "pitch" to them all (which i could not do, as i have great trouble in lying) but even more so in the regular relationships required of your coworkers.  Herein lies the true challenge.  These jobs all followed a similar pattern that was unavoidable even after knowing what would happen.    Initially, spirits are high, people are relatively positive, a lot of slack is allowed as you are in the learning phase of your job.  You are as a result, given a wider berth to navigate and find your footing.  By the end of the first month, i'd have already irritated most of the staff, or a select few, often due to my unusually uneven performance.  Often i out-performed long time veterans of the job in a very short span of time, mechanically speaking, but in terms of human interactions, i was consistently lousy.  This is around the time i would get my first "Talking To" From the boss or a supervisor, about how i needed to improve my interactions with customers and coworkers.  I would begin to be more and more anxious from this point going forward, starting to have trouble maintaining the facade of normality that i had been trying desperately to maintain up until that point.  Now it was getting exponentially harder. Sounds and smells were starting to bother me now.  I felt intensely depressed and fearful while trying to maintain my performance and would start to isolate myself more and more.  This inevitably heightens awareness of my "Otherness" and now coworkers are beginning to openly display animosity as well as snipe at me behind my back.  I get another talking to from the boss. I explain that i was told as a child if you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything at all, so i had stopped verbalizing with my coworkers entirely. In one instance my boss,  looked at me blankly and said "You can't do that."   I asked why, and she simply repeated herself,. "You just can't."  By now, the employees had banded together in disliking me in a unilateral way,  and began to deliberately make it harder for me to do my job.  Trying to make me specifically do the parts of the job i was worst at or expressed the most apprehension about doing skillfully.  It's at this point to 3 month mark- i have to quit or i am fired.  

During this entire ordeal, i am a rattling mess of a person.  Amped up and anxious, stimming and experiencing racing mind, and inconsolably depressed. At once i hate myself for not being able to do as they do, not being able to work a simple job and perform, and then again for this being the only option i had, to pretend i was normal, just to try to make a pittance to survive on.  An unhappy life. 

Living in a state where medicaid is only granted to women and children, which was my only means to get insurance as i could not pay for it without a job, i was in dire straights. I was already surviving on someone elses back, and figured i would try to see if I qualified for disability to help pay for my upkeep.  Now i had been researching autism for months at this point, and had already called over 50 doctors to try to even find a person QUALIFIED to diagnose an adult, let alone one that i could afford.  Over and over again i was met by dead ends and brick walls. 

"We only treat children."

"I'm sorry this is a pediatric autism program."

"There are no tests that are currently usable on someone of your age for accessment."

and of course, The catch-22.

Now i need the diagnosis to get the disability but can't AFFORD to get diagnosis without insurance OR the money i would get from disability.....

I found a research study that might help, but the cut off was 27.  I used online resources to contact people at Grasp and other major online autism advocacy websites, the emails i got were less then helpful.  Mostly generic information that i had already found myself, no direct support or assistance in spite of all my pleas.  Months just kept going by, me rotting in this apartment, being paid for entirely by someone else, and so depressed and miserable i couldn't muster any gratitude. I couldn't say "Thank you for paying for me." Because i just feel like a complete and total fuck up.  I just wanted to die. I already un-exist, and i had been trying so hard my entire life to make sense of this, or to get help, and no one has helped me.  It made her angry at me on top of everything else, and i probably deserved that anger. This has gone on too long, and under my best efforts i was still getting no one nearer to understanding or getting the answer or to any manner of self sufficiency.  I ended up over the months i struggled to find a doc accumulating a few local contacts, all women, that would maintain email corrspondence with me as i attempted to track down a solution.  One was a woman who worked at the local pediatric hospital, she had an autistic child. The other was a woman who ws a researcher for another hospital in in the area, same story. The last woman was the head co-ordinator of the state run autism program, and had 2 autistic children.  Over months of accumulation and introducing these women to each other via emails, i had lots more suggestions, but none were panning out. We started to find a few possible doctors but the money problem kept coming up.   The co-ordinator had an idea.  Apply for disability insurance. They will provide a free evaluation to determine in your eligible, it might be a way in. 

I had an odd, claustrophobic experience in a tiny office some weeks later where an "Evaluator" asked me a series of rapid fire questions for 20 minutes while typing furiously.  I came out of it feeling confused, and not at all hopeful. I know based on my age, presentation, history, and all the best practices guidelines to diagnose me would require great expense, differential diagnosis, tests, and interviews with family members, etc.. This felt like nothing of the sort. 

Inexplicably, some months later, i was approved for disability medical insurance.  To this day i don't know why.  They did not list that on the letter i received. Just that i qualify, and that was that. That brought up even MORE questions then answers and i tend to perseverate but eventually i just accepted it.  (*Shakes head*-it will always bug me.)  but NOW i had insurance, and i DID find not one but TWO doctors who were qualified. They had history that i researched that verified 20 plus year experience working in the field,  and had history of adult patients with ASD.   

I got my diagnosis, and with it the proof i had known was the truth all along.  If i had that sheet of paper as a child, i might not have been abused, beaten, neglected, ignored by the education system, and had a constant stream of vile things said to me about myself from the 1st grade onward, but those stories are for next time, for another day.   I was who I SAID I WAS, not who THEY SAID I WAS, and now i had the damn proof. A thousand voices telling you who you are would make even the most confident person doubt themselves. So an entire world full of faces telling me i was wrong, eroded my belief in myself until i no longer had any idea who i was. Was i who i thought i was? Honest, smart, curious, and kind hearted, or was i who they perceived me to be? Angry, stupid, mean, defiant, unruly, overly-sensitive..

I could now know with externally verified certainty that i was right, i had been doomed from the start.

That is my introduction to you internet. To everyone.  I'm 31 now, with all the baggage and weight and damage and trauma that comes with that much life, but i'm also a new born boy, wondering now with forehead wrinkles and a few strands of white hair, where do i go from here?