Essay:Inside the mind of someone with special needs

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Note- This is my personal story. This essay is going to seem depressive (sorry). This is about my personal struggle with autism and mental illness. Real names will not be used. I will use false names to make things easy. This will not be censored at all. This will not be a pretty story. This has been a public service announcement from Rationalzombie94

I am almost 24 years old. I was born in March of 1994. I live in Michigan. I live with Autism, Paranoid Schizophrenia, moderate Depression, Borderline Personality Disorder and Bipolar Disorder. My life has been fairly rocky. I have two brothers, a sister, a mom, a sperm donor for a "dad". I currently live with my brothers and mom (we support each other).

My life[edit]

I was diagnosed with autism at the age of 3. I have heard my family say autism but for years, but had not clue what it was. I would fiddle with toys in weird ways, I would spin around in circles, walk on my toes and repeat words. When I became more aware of my life (my first memories), I would see things that didn't exist. I told my mom about it and she told me it was my imagination. In my childhood, my "dad" (I will refer to as "Sperm Donor" from here on out) would always yell and ignore any problems. He would say, "Suck it up". When we did something wrong, he would only ask, "Why did you do it"? Me or none of my siblings had no clue on what we did wrong. My mom didn't even know what sperm donor was talking about. It was always up to my mom to discipline. Sperm donor had no idea how to parent. This made things confusing for me. One parent would say one thing, sperm donor said things that contradicted what my mom said.

Now you have the basics. Sperm donor always yelled, he would leave alcoholic drinks out (mixed with pop) in reach of children. My second older brother "Dean" has severe autism and has the mental age of a six year old child. My oldest brother "Tyler" has mild autism (like me), my older sister "Jane" was the type to want attention and sympathy. Around 8 years old, Jane had a seizure and for a while, I was not told to keep me calm. She was in the hospital for a while and when I found out, I was devastated. From there on, sperm donor had a heart attack and stroke. In between the heart attack and stroke, sperm donor would tell me and my siblings to eat unhealthy while my mom tried us to start eating healthy. This began my weight problems. Jane knew me and Dean had weight problems, she would contradict herself on what she did; tries to be helpful then says she is done. Jane would also act like the parent. Sperm donor, after his stroke, was absolutely lazy, never tried to help himself. He liked his wheelchair and he ran over my cat with it (I was 11 at the time, forgive my poor timeline construction). He didn't feel bad for killing my cat, I ended up watching the poor thing die as his spine was snapped. I could only watch in horror. 2001-2006 was the start of my psychological damage. Jane and sperm donor would make me feel like crap (and a slave). In this time frame, I started experience psychiatric delusions (seeing things and hearing voices). I nearly strangled a different cat later on. I never said anything, first off- Jane and sperm donor's actions and Tyler being diagnosed with Schizophrenia. I put my own thoughts aside.

2007 rolled around (and the most painful experience in my teenage life). I started middle school. Things were tough but I got through the first months. Then came the middle of the year. I was heading to the bus when someone came up from behind me. This, monster grabbed me and was feeling me up. I was absolutely mortified. I shouted, "Get away from me"! and ran to the bus. I never said anything until late 2017. The middle school had a bad track record of keeping personal matters private. Then I began overeating and gaining weight rapidly. I would lose some weight but gain it back, like I was hiding the trauma under fat.

In 2009 I started high school. The delusions got severe, I said something. I was diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia at 15. In the mean time, I battled with my weight. My doctor would put me down and insult me for my weight (even if I lost weight). It damaged my self-esteem. My family would get angry for not caring. In my mind it was, "What the fuck is the point"? I felt broken and defeated. In 2011, sperm donor left, few years later my sister moved out. It was a weight lifted of my shoulder. My mental health took a nose dive from there. By age 20, I was diagnosed with moderate Depression by a different psychiatrist. The doctors I saw before were horribly incompetent (Seems they forgot the oath they took). In December of 2015, I had a complete psychiatric breakdown. I spent Christmas in the hospital. It was horrible. I was always bored in the psych unit. In 2016, I was there 3 different times. I have not been in the psych unit in 2017 or now. In those time periods, I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and Bipolar disorder. Things have been pretty good. I am facing my personal demons and taking responsibility for my actions.

In my mind[edit]

Me having autism, I would repeat words, make odd movements, walk on my toes, have extremely specific interests and I have poor social skills. My autistic behavior isolated me from other people. Nobody took me seriously. I would get angry and I could not express how I felt.

Having mental illness, I see things like hanging corpses, raining blood, and various things. I would hear voices telling me to kill myself or others. I would hear voices telling me that the government and KKK would get me. My moods swing every 3-5 days. I get depressive and then Manic. Being in a manic state, I can't stop moving, I end up running around and talking fast. I speak faster than I think. I always fear being alone. I feel hollow sometimes. Even to this day, I close the blinds so I don't see things out the window. I still harm myself sometimes and I hear my belongings talk to me. I sometimes think animals are plotting against me (I know that is not the case). I have bouts of pure rage sometimes. You could say I am a damaged person.

In closing[edit]

The point of this was to share my story with others, show others with mental illness that they are not alone. If something is bothering you, tell someone you can trust. Don't bottle it and let it cause damage. I hope my story helps you out.

See also[edit]