Since I was young, I knew I was different. I felt things more intensely than most children my age and I acquired a deep thought process from trying to figure out meanings behind stories I read; I fixated on deciphering the behavior of fellow classmates and tried to figure out how my behavior relates.
I believe this depth of thinking and perceptiveness cast me out from the usual play of kids, and when I did find friends who found me interesting I dictated how we should spend time. However, a part of me craved to be more social and divulge in their system, but the feeling just couldn’t come out the way I wanted it to. From this frustration I often went into daydreams, secluding myself from a confusing world and into a reality I felt comfortable with because it was my own.
As I grew older and entered middle school, this constant way of coping proved embarrassing and ineffective. Peers would shout my name in the hallway, possibly trying to get me out of my constant reverie and wake me into a horrifically stimulating world. What they didn’t know was the social stimulation from school was overwhelming: I was trying desperately to walk, converse and appear mature to others, to the point where I was obsessing that I might be ostracized for who I was.
Bullying raged on as long as I felt inferior for my abnormalities. Though my ego deflated with the negativities, there was something in me saying there is a purpose for what I’ve been through, and there is something I could make of myself with what I have. What causes me so much pain is also my greatest strength. Having endless talks with my family, especially my mom, I gained insight on how to live my life with my unique gifts.
Towards high school I began to make extensive efforts to create a new me based on what I could envision. I practiced eye contact in the mirror and reflected on my thought process; I began to change the “I cants” and “what ifs” in my head to “I can.” I started to walk and converse with a confidence I never thought possible: I was blossoming.
That isn’t to say that was my happy ending. In fact, there were many horrible bumps in the road when it came to my first year in college. With an extreme change in amount of socialization practically required in the classroom as well as in the dorms, I fell short. Isolating myself in my room, I fell victim to an eating disorder and severe depression. Again, I thought I was alone in my being, that no matter how hard I tried, all my efforts were fruitless because there was something in the way of me connecting. Why did I have it so hard when others have it so easy? In this, I spiraled downward. I thought I was broken because I couldn’t relate to people as an adult, so there must be something fundamentally wrong with me.
I knew where I was in my life, and my family did too. They poured their love onto me, trying to relate in the way they know is healing. Which it was and proved medicinal. Though I couldn’t see for myself past this point, they fostered my hope to have hope. That there is something better, just as I envisioned for myself when I was in middle school.
I am now writing to you from my laptop in my apartment that I share with several other university students. I am living on my own and maintaining relationships with friends, family and a loving boyfriend. I do have my everyday struggles, but my plan is to continue with writing and relating so that I may achieve my purpose, to the extent I can envision it!
auspiciousaspie 