Thoughts on things students ask me; an unofficial diagnosis

As it is probably known by readers of this blog (such as they are), I have a tattoo on my wrist. It's Arabic. It says "الحياة جميلة" and that translates to "Life is beautiful." This is an aspirational statement on my part. I acknowledge that life is not always beautiful, but I would like it to be and it's a good goal. It's good for me to keep in mind. The weird thing is that a surprising number of people, students/young people especially, ask me if it's my name. I don't know why anyone would tattoo themselves with their own name. In case you forget it? Preparing for traumatic brain injury and the possible amnesia that follows? Because your name is just so cool that you can think of no other words to eclipse its awesomeness? It's such a weird thing to ask. I really don't know why that's the go-to guess.

Students and children at circus also ask my age fairly often, which doesn't bother me. However, there seems to be a class of people who, when I state that I am in my mid 20s, follow up with "Why aren't you married?" or an equivalent (do you have a boyfriend? don't you want to get married?). If I say that I'm not married sometimes they'll even go on to say "but don't you want kids?" I think this may just be a cultural divide, usually when I get this question it's from people who weren't born in the US or whose parents weren't, but I somewhat resent the expectation that at 25 I should be married and making some babies already!

An unofficial diagnosis.
It was suggested to me that I have Asperger's syndrome by someone whose opinion I value and I decided to look into it. For the uninitiated, Asperger's syndrome is an autism spectrum disorder on the high functioning end of the spectrum. People with Asperger's (Aspies, as they seem to be affectionately called) experience distress and difficulty with socializing. They (we, I suppose) have strict routines and devotion to their own narrow interests. Most of the people diagnosed with this are men. The more intelligent you are, the less likely you are to be diagnosed. Apparently, most psychologists are not very good at spotting this unless they are experts in autism.

Here is a list of traits for women with Asperger's.

I read this and sort of freaked out because I have essentially all of these traits. So then I bought three books about it, obviously. I won't go into the specifics, but reading about Asperger's has made me almost 100% certain that I have it. I felt weird about it at first. Somewhat relieved, but also distressed. A number of friends reminded me that I am still the same person and I appreciate their support with this. In the last month or so, I've been letting this simmer in my brain and I'm comfortable enough to make it public (such as 6 people reading my blog can be public) on the internet.

I am somewhat on the fence about pursuing formal diagnosis. I'm pretty settled on this in my mind. Getting a diagnosis of Asperger's as an adult means finding a specialist. Inevitably, one's parents are interviewed, which is something I would like to avoid at this juncture (they're not really in the loop on this). Also, I'm worried taht with a diagnosis I might have trouble getting insurance because this would be counted as a pre-existing condition. 

I am feeling better about this now. As long-time readers may recall, I periodically feel like I'm going insane and I wonder what the hell is wrong with me and why I am not like other people. I feel that this explains it rather neatly. I am not a crazy person. I have Asperger's. I experience things differently. Knowing this helps me order things that have happened in my life and make some sense out of some of the bad parts. Some of the good parts also, I suppose. I feel like now I have a clearer idea of what makes me feel crazy and what I can do about it, which is really positive because I've never felt that way before.

Strange Dreams of Another Star

As soon as I think I might finally be okay, I realize that I'm still not. I had a dream the other night, and the details aren't important, but I ended up with a whole bunch of mormons in some gathering or another and my dream-self broke down crying--crying hysterically. Then I went over to Ian and begged him that we leave. After that I woke up and felt kind of shaken. I've never cried in a dream before and it was a bit odd. Not as odd as dying in a dream, I'm sure (that's never happened to me, but apparently it symbolizes some intense psychological issues), but it still made me too unsteady to sleep properly until my alarm went off an hour and a half later. That dream made me feel weird for the whole day, which reminds me that I'm still not over being Mormon or the way I left mormonism, it's hard to describe what exactly i'm not over because, like I said, I keep thinking that I'm okay.

Maybe I just need to stop watching documentaries that remind me of Mormons and subsequently piss me off. I watched Jesus Camp last week and the other day I watched The Devil's Playground. Both are dealing with religious groups using intense control mechanisms and that discourage any kind of critical thinking. And I guess that kind of thing is still "too close to home" or whatever for me. Watching such documentaries is the equivalent of watching a truly frightening horror film for most people. Zombies or vampires or what have you. Maybe I just need someone to cling to during the films, and then i'll be okay.

I think one of my main problems is that I'm still afraid. Afraid of mormons (for no good reason), afraid of my step mom (not over that one either) and afraid I'll be like my mom. Sometimes afraid that I'm crazy as well, and I'm just living in an elaborate, fucked up fabrication of my mind. Which, if I am, means two things: i have a more powerful imagination than I thought and I'm completely masochistic. Ian assures me that I'm not crazy, merely eccentric. He's probably right, but you never know. I know that generally if you know you're crazy, then you probably aren't. But I figure it's kind of like a dream and you know you're dreaming, but you can't wake up. But if none of this is real, it's really not that bad, and I'm sure it's better than whatever reality I'd otherwise be facing.

In more normal news, I've registered for next quarter and my schedule is looking pretty decent.
Earth and Space Sciences 100: prehistoric life, T, W, Th 9:30-10:20
Arabic 423 (end of second year, which i actually already have credit for >.>), M-F 10:30
C LIT 240: comparative literature, M-F 11:30
French 203: end of second year french, technically making me equal in skill at arabic and french, but the languages are taught so differently, that i have no idea, M-F 12:30

The good news is that after the spring, I'll be totally finished with my general education reqs. I've also been planning out which classes I want to take for the summer, which seems like it should work quite well. Next fall I should be pretty on track with all my majors/minors, so no more panicing on that front. I still need to meet with my ling advisor to officially declare the major and a Spanish advisor to negotiate for transfer credits.

Other than the occassional bout of craziness, I guess I've been doing pretty well lately. I've been working a lot (a lot for me, anyway). Last night this lady who works as a case manager for aging and disabled people for the city gave me her card and was encouraging me to look into getting an interpreting gig with her department. I know that I'm not good enough to do that--that's not just me being self-effacing, I really wouldn't be able to do it--but I figure, stay in contact with this lady, maybe I'll be good enough in a year or so. If I know what words to study, I'm sure I could work it out. She said that city interpreters ger around $35/hr. For anyone who doesn't want to do the math, that's 4.5 times what I get paid now.

I want finals to be over, my recreational reading has been suffering too much.