For the past fourteen years of my life, an oddly unreachable fear has been stashed in the back of my mind. In a box, waiting for my maturity, lie continuous battles of my own teachers denying me without me ever knowing it. I've just recently been able to see this war rage on with brand new eyes. I can finally acknowledge that I was too young to understand and too dumb to wonder about it. Living with Autism has proved to be a personal struggle for me ever since I was three years old, when I was diagnosed.
Being shoved into a scenario almost every grade level where my teachers have the slightest clue of who I am is progress to the highest degree. Having it slip through my fingers and come out from under my feet is simply unbearable. Even when I was fully aware of this, I had absolutely no power to stop the inevitable from happening. I've stared into the face of restriction and denial too many times, all simply with the shake of a head. The hassle of fitting into a new school again and again has chipped away at my self-confidence. Making people, namely teachers, understand me was a whole other story as well as a persistent need to cling onto.
All my life, societal "do's" and "don'ts'" have been revolving around me. I've realized over the past few years that what society senses as a weakness, I perceive as a strength. A real-life example of this comes from eighth grade, when I was self-conscious of telling people that I am on the spectrum. When the time came to prepare and later present my Purple Project, I realized that having this "disability" isn't even a "disability" at all. Autism is a gift that allows me to see the world completely different; I actually pity people for not being able to see the way I do.
Every day, something is being thrown at me, demanding my attention and begging to be dealt with. A task as small as getting ready for school, for example, could be a hassle. It is sometimes for me; time management isn't always on my side. In other words, there is no "perfect world." Everything is scattered into a billion unplanned pieces. When things get out of place or I feel meek, that's when it gets infinitely hard to verbally express what I really want to say. That's why I've turned to writing.
The possibility of not succeeding in something that I'm passionate about is another fear of mine. It's recently been an ongoing thought in my mind. I'm scared of not being able to reach the top of where I want to be because of my ability to do something. Being rejected in a business sense or personal sense is yet another example of this. It's a realistic terror that has set in because of society's imaginary "success ladder" that doesn't let up for anyone.
Loneliness has no escape; it's inevitable. On some days, it's hard to cope. Out of all the things that usually have common ground, this one hardly has any. Sure, there is when I'm around someone, but what about the rest of the time? Society has taught me one thing about loneliness: it's a sin, but a normal thing to feel. Then why do I feel it so often? Isn't there any cure, or a fix? Sometimes, but no permanent fixes, sadly. Any temporary fixes include huge, stuffed teddy bears. That sense of security and safeness is important to me, as well as others.
After all the turmoil has taken its course, it's undoubtedly hard to put myself back together. It can be done, though. Ultimately, seeing all of these reasons as motivation to stay strong and to keep going is crucial as living is to breathing fresh, crisp air. When society hands you lemons, throw them back in its face.
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