(This was originally written on 9th September 2012)
I want a diagnosis.
I want to be able to remember events from my childhood and think “I know why I reacted that way. I know why those things happened.”
I want to be able to tell other people a handful of words and them be able to know – or find out – what problems I have, what I need, what I can’t cope with, and what they could do to help me.
I want to be able to tell myself that I’m unique, that I’m special, that I’m different.
I want to be able to find people just like me by typing the same handful of words into Google.
I want to be the only person like me, everywhere I go.
I want people to notice I’m different.
I want people to say “I never would have guessed” and later think “it makes perfect sense”.
I want a diagnosis of something rare and misunderstood. Something with stereotypes which are wrong. Something that will make people fear or respect or avoid me.
I want a diagnosis. I’m just not sure what diagnosis it is that I want.
In the end I tell myself that I’m making it all up. There’s nothing special or different enough about me to warrant diagnosing with anything.
But it’s only now that I am really realising how much trouble I had when I was younger. Maybe I just assumed that everyone feels like the outcast when they’re a kid. That everyone feels like they don’t have any friends, that everyone hates them, that they’re the butt of the joke every time. That they feel like they have nothing in common with their peers. That they can’t cope with living the life of the person they’re supposed to be.
Because I don’t think those things are normal. Not to the extent that I experienced them. But if they aren’t normal, then what? What does it mean? It would be so easy if everything I experienced could be pointed to one disorder, one cause, that would sum up my whole life. It doesn’t seem to be that easy. And I have no idea where I’m meant to go from here. Do I just give up? Assume I’m normal until proven otherwise? Maybe that’s the best way. But I’m not sure if I’ll ever actually be able to believe it. I’ll just be left, confused and unresolved about what might or might not be wrong with me. Maybe everyone exists in that state constantly.