All the Things I Kept Inside

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This post has been tough to get out. I am a careful guy who thinks about perceptions and wants to get just the right one out to readers. Can you imagine that I am a nonspeaking autistic who can actually have that option? It’s been a long tough road for me. You see, around this time last year, I had felt the reality of my future like never before. Still so many things to do, and yet fear gripped slowly through my soul – that the movement towards my future was already halting. The facts would not change. The accomplishments would always nicely exist like some trophy locked away in a cabinet. I had shared in graduation activities like other students, had fulfilled all of the classes needed to get that diploma, sorted the daunting college application experience enough to be accepted into one, and yet I really felt nowhere near ready to step onto another path that would take me away from all I knew. It was summer 2018 and I was already unraveling.

Being autistic is stressful enough. I had so much on my mind that having to think about things like funding for my support person to be able to go with me to college was almost more than I could handle. I got intensely nervous. It is hard to not have those feelings when someone else is deciding your future. The process involved an assessment and report writing, and then I had to wait. I hated the long wait.  It took many weeks, months really, until I heard that I had gotten the authorization for my much needed support person.  Hope flooded in. I had it all in a way, the acceptance of a college, the funding for support, yet I did not feel it was right that I was only one of just a few of my autistic brothers and sisters with this opportunity. There was this pressure that I had been feeling for a while. It was the pressure to try to attempt to set a precedent. I almost started to hate that I got in.

I had this idea that people in college would really be somehow able to see me. That the autism that controls my body would somehow not paint the usual picture of special needs. I looked forward to an ideal situation in college – it had to be better right? After I started classes, I began feeling the pressure, and I worried I could not keep up the pace I had set in motion for my classes and running life. There was a new level of expectation. Being a Kingsman meant running and training on a whole new level. I got up early to get to campus, ran hard in the afternoons, and even ran some mornings before class and got really strong. To the outside world I looked like I was managing it all. Inside I was really struggling. The feeling of not failing crept into my mind. I got harder and harder on myself. I got so lost in the schedule of going to hard runs and typing for all my classes that I forgot who I really was inside.  Mostly, I got stuck on my ideas that success had to be achieved at all costs. The idea of really allowing something to naturally evolve was not an option in my hectic schedule. I had intentionally set these things in motion and I needed to follow the path of least resistance – any accommodation in my schedule meant not having it all. I got totally overwhelmed. Things felt manageable on paper, but in reality I got too worn down, and that is when I knew I had pushed too far. I experienced a type of autistic reaction to my internal stress.

In the spring semester, I became greatly stuck in autistic modes of movement. I felt the pressure of my life crush in on my high spirits and I felt intense pulls so strongly that I could not help becoming lost in my patterns. I felt like I was transformed, but not in the way I had hoped. I was turned back into the trapped boy behind autistic walls that could only hardly be broken open with my team. Instead of running with the track team I had to stop. I even became injured which made all running impossible for many weeks.

The system out worked my whole reality. It was set up perfectly for someone who is neuroliteral*. The way students normally start to seek out support is they look to each other, but that option isn’t there for autistics like me. The reassurance that I so needed was nowhere to be found. I needed to know that I really could acknowledge my struggles and fears, and that others wouldn’t see me as a failure. I wished for reassurance that I was not the only one.

Then, my year was over. I was nervous to see the results after such a challenging time. My grades were fine in the end. I had come out the other side. Some of my strong autism is going back to sleep, but not all of it. I am still recovering from the stressful months. I can run again now. I think that will help me heal inside. I am wondering what will happen in the fall semester. I have had a great successful semester, and a very challenging semester. I don’t know what the next one will look like. I don’t know whether to hope or whether to worry.

*Neuroliteral is my very own word which means having a typical thought process along with neurology that is nonautistic.

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Made it through 9th Grade!

Been a year since I graduated from middle school.  Hard to believe I made it through 9th grade!  In all seriousness, I really had a lot of worry about the reality of having to take all regular classes.  Taking all my classes was a major challenge, and one I am happy to say I feel proud of.

Letter from a Teacher

(Written for Enhanced Lit class – 9th grade 10/1/14 – Dillan was asked to write a letter to his parents as one of his own teachers)

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Barmache,

I am Dillan’s teacher, and I have laughed at the idea of having an autistic student in my class until I met Dillan.  Matter of fact, I never thought a student who could not speak and could not control himself would have thoughts at a level of other students.  I’ve been able to get to know many of Dillan’s strengths, as well as his challenges.  I feel that some of the necessary skills that a student needs to succeed are quite evident in Dillan.  For example, he always tries taking a break to allow himself a chance to calm.  And he never quits so long as caring people around him support his attempts.  Also, patience is a quality, and I see having autism must require having an enormous amount of it.  And finally, I see how Dillan really wants to be challenged.  And I hope he always will be.

Sincerely,

Mr. B.