Asperger Syndrome is an Autism Spectrum Disorder (or Pervasive Developmental Disorder) characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction along with restricted and repetitive patterns of behaviors and interests. Those with Asperger Syndrome, or AS, may exhibit a lack of empathy for their peers, clumsiness, and atypical use of language, though none of these symptoms are required for a diagnosis.1
The pain of coming to terms with having Asperger's is still very real for me right now. There is a tremendous sense of grief. Grief for all that I suffered through to try to be "normal" and grief for how short of "normal" I always have been. There is also great relief to know that I am not crazy and that not everything can be traced back to an abusive past in the sense that some of what I experience is not choice/emotional but neurons/physical. The greatest challenge I face right now is trying to figure out which is which. This is not easy.
One of the most common side effects of a number of antidepressant medications is loss of sex drive. I could forgive our friends at fine companies such as Eli Lilly, Bristol Meyers Squibb, and Pfizer if dry mouth, irritability, disrupted sleep patterns, loss of appetite, sloth, and social phobia were the sole issues related to the medications I take on a daily basis. However, it is the sex thing I find most challenging.
Anhedonia is the technical term for the inability to experience joy. When people are in the depths of depression, nothing touches them, not the most intensely pleasurable activities, not the most familiar comforts. They are emotionally frozen. In this state, people either have to get professional help or simply wait for weeks or months until the depression lifts by itself; nothing is going to make them feel better.
Schizophrenia is a mental illness which affects one person in every hundred.
Depression is perhaps the most common of all mental health problems, currently felt to affect one in every four adults to some degree. Depression is a problem with mood/feeling in which the mood is described as sad, feeling down in the dumps, being blue, or feeling low. While the depressed mood is present, evidence is also present which reflects the neurochemical or "brain chemistry" aspects of depression with the depressed individual experiencing poor concentration/attention, loss of energy, accelerated thought/worry, sleep/appetite disturbance, and other physical manifestations. When this diagnosis is present, the individual will exhibit at least five of the following symptoms during the depressive periods:
My precious friend,
It has been ten years since you made the split-second decision that was to change the world. It certainly changed mine. For ten years I have stood mummy-like in the centre of a spiral of questions that bounced back off the stars to return unanswered, just the same questions ringing ever louder in my ears.
It is a strange sensation. The way those questions take the rainbow splashes of colour which you, my first love, my best friend, splashed with the freedom of a child on the canvas of my life, and blend them with dizzying speed into each other. So I stand at the centre of something quite terrifying, yet strangely beautiful. Every so often there is peace there as one of those magnificent colours, the hue of another beautiful memory, washes over and through me and I smile through my tears. Like the blue-green memory of you and I dancing in the rain smiling and crying all at once that New Years Eve...
Can I go on? If every pair of eyes capable of reading was to read these words, would it make a difference? Will they help to silence those unanswered questions, those things I'll wish forever that I'd said to you rather than "I have to go, good-bye"? Will they wrap them up tightly for me in a box, nail it shut with a million nails and throw them, with the force of the whole earth, out beyond the stars never to bounce back and deafen me again?
No. My canvas will always have, as a backdrop, that hauntingly beautiful spiral of colour.
What is it I want to say? I am sorry. I am sorry that I was young and selfish and insensitive and careless. I am sorry that by your action, you became my teacher - the teacher of so many painful lessons, when I'd much rather you'd stayed my lover. Actually, that is what I really want to say to you. I love you. I have hurt, and in my aching condition of guilt and self-loathing, I have hurt other people. It is to them that I owe an apology. But this is my love letter to you.
Sometimes I wish that I never knew you. Like a child allowed chocolate just once, then never again, I've struggled to find satisfaction in a world of unshared pleasures. Yes, I have shared many things with many people - but my soul has always ached for you.
I remember how strangely you were acting in our last week together. So strangely that I even asked you if you were thinking of "doing something silly". And you held me close to you in the swimming pool, as the sun smiled down on us, and told me that as long as I was in the world, even if we weren't together, you had every reason to keep on living. And I believed you. Strangely though, when you left after that visit, as you turned and waved at the end of the complex driveway, panic seized me and I had to stop myself from shouting out and running to you and holding you and kissing you and telling you the words that choke me still, I love you.
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