I had a humbling experience recently. As part of my writing process,
both for this blog, and for my book, I took it upon myself to reach out to the
psychiatrist who my parents saw for a second opinion on Aspergers as a kid…the
one who eventually determined that in her opinion I have ADHD. Going in, I
prepared myself for what it would be like, knowing that I’d have both an
incredible source of wisdom and knowledge in her, and a window to an
uncomfortable part of my past. Despite this, I still don’t think I was fully
prepared for the things I learned about myself and my childhood in talking to
her.
My former psychiatrist (we’ll call her ‘Dr. M’ for the purposes of this
blog post) told me how getting a second opinion on the Aspergers diagnosis was
not the only reason my parents took me to see her. Apparently, according to Dr.
M., I was also going through a depressive episode at the time stemming from my
feelings regarding my parents’ divorce, and was experiencing flashes of mood swings
which were very intense. Such strong, volatile and quickly changing moods are
all hallmarks of both ADHD and Aspergers’, and so I can’t say I found this all
that surprising. No, for me, it was finding out about the depressive episode
which really rocked me. Apparently, I had even mentioned thoughts of suicide at
the time. I don’t remember any of this, but Dr. M. gave me the documentation to
back it all up. Truthfully, I’ve had to take some time to process everything,
which is why it’s taken me a while to write this blog post.
Having thought everything over in great detail, I’ve come to a few
realizations. For one, I’ve had it driven home for me exactly why I’m the
cheerful optimist that I am. I would of course go through another dark period
years later in middle school and again stand on the razor’s edge. The fact that
in both cases, I not only refused to jump off, but stood defiantly and chose
life is proof of my brain’s choice of positivity over negativity any day, even
if I didn’t realize at the time that I was even making it. Robin Williams said
it right when he said that “I think the saddest people always try their hardest
to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely
worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.” This screams of
truth for me.
The second realization I came to is just how susceptible those of us on
the Autism spectrum are to things like depression. I’ve mentioned before just
how close to the surface the emotions of someone with ASD bubble, and this
combined with something like a divorce situation was bound to wreak havoc on my
young mind. Having all of these aggressive, angry, sad feelings and not having
many healthy outlets made things difficult. Thank goodness my mom always let me
rant. As someone with ADHD and Aspergers, I feel my emotions deeply and
passionately, and react to things intensely since the volume on the whole world
feels like it’s dialed up to 11. It’s only natural that I’d have hit such dark
times.
In the end, I’m eternally grateful for the work Dr. M did with me as a child. While I disagree with her on a few things (she seemed to think I only had ADHD, while I definitely see both that and Aspergers in my makeup), she helped me work through a dark period in my history that I’d forgotten I even had, and in the process helped me learn a bit more about exactly who I am and how my brain works. I could tell as she and I spoke how proud she was to learn that I’d gone on to do well for myself in life, and I think my request for her help on the book flattered her to no end. Frankly, she deserved every bit of praise I gave her. Depression isn’t easy to work through when you’re a neurotypical adult; it’s even harder for a neurodivergent child. We need to give everyone living with it our unconditional support and love, not judgment and anger.
Thank you, Dr. M., both for your work with me as a child, and for
teaching me just how far I’d come and how strong I have been my whole life. You
rock!
As always, yours in diversity,
Adam Michael
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