Monday, April 15, 2013

High School Girls Never Learn

So my son, my husband and I all share one major thing in common besides our last name, we all have Asperger's Syndrome. My husband and I were diagnosed when our son received his diagnosis. The diagnostician thought it might help us relate to our son. It did. It also helped explain a whole mess of stuff my husband and I have been carrying around since childhood that we couldn't figure out. Old emotional scars now made sense cast in a new light. We suddenly felt, understood.

The initial sadness of receiving a diagnosis quickly passed and gave way to a tremendous feeling of self-empowerment. I was able to explain my feelings and my way of thinking. I wasn't crazy, or Bi-Polar, I am Autistic, even if I am highly verbal and highly "functional" I still am a person living with Autism.

I can relate to my husband, my son and others who have Asperger's in a new and healthy way. We literally speak the same language. And I put "functional" in quotes because our life is harder than the average person's for many reasons I will share with you.

I suffer from low self-esteem unless I can master my world. I have panic attacks. I don't always get along with people. I am paranoid. You would never know these things unless I told you. I look totally normal on the outside as I freak out on the inside.

You're sitting there saying to yourself, "This is ridiculous. Everyone feels this way at one time or another." And you're right. But most people don't feel this way everyday, almost all day, especially during social interactions. I do.

I can't speak for my son or my husband. Their Asperger's displays differently. We have enough in common to understand the pain we all experience but we handle our social anxiety differently. One of the most challenging aspects of Asperger's is how it is different for each person, yet how it is always the same for all who are diagnosed.

My anxiety comes in a very girly form, people-pleasing. I want desperately to be liked, by everyone. This is not just a saying. I literally need to be liked by everyone I come in  contact with or I silently, privately freak out inside. I spend inordinate amounts of time worrying about what I said that may have offended and what I can do to "fix" the situation.

I'm getting better. I'm learning to let things go and not care. I'm learning that I don't have to be liked by everyone, all the time. This fear gets me into trouble on a daily basis. It causes me to have money and time management issues. And it leaves me vulnerable to bullies and social vampires. I'm learning how to say no and stand up for myself without becoming a bully myself. It's a process.

So today I go to my son's school because he had a special part of the morning school assembly to say aloud into a microphone. We practiced over the weekend and he had a hard time taking his performance seriously because there is no "real rock star stage" in the gymnasium where the assembly takes place. He is five-years-old and knows he is a rock star and movie star and he requires a proper stage.

I told him he has to pay his dues and he'll take any gig and practice or he'll be replaced. He decided no stage was okay as long as he had a microphone.

We arrived at school on time, a difficult thing to do for both my son and I, and my son melted down and started crying. He said he was tired and didn't want to go to the assembly. His social worker helped him to his classroom to calm down. While he was regaining his composure two teachers I have had ongoing disagreements with about the proper and timely use of time-outs passed by me in the hallway.

These two girls, I can't call them women because they don't act like grown-ups, passed by me in the hall without even glancing at me. They had their bodies stuck together at the arms and looked down at the ground as they shuffled past in their stripper style 6 inch high heels. I have a fundamental problem with three things they did. One, teaching kindergarten in 6 inch stripper heels. Two, passing by me in the hallway and not acknowledging a parent. Three, acting like they are still in high school.

I stared at them as they walked past me. I still can't believe it is April and they have been acting this way since the beginning of the school year. I also cannot believe I am in charge of Teacher Appreciation Week and I have to "appreciate" these two "teachers."

As they passed me in the hallway, looking down and giggling to one another, my stomach clenched and my hands formed into fists by my sides. I flashed back to high school when girls like them used to bully me. Girls are nasty little creatures. We lie, cheat, steal, gossip, whisper, laugh and point. We are passive-aggressive. We bully while no one is looking. We make it look like it's no big deal. We make sure to arrange it so it looks like it's your fault. We make you look crazy for complaining about perfect little us.

I know these girls scam. It doesn't work on me anymore. I'm a woman now. These girls have never had children. They are still acting like children themselves. But life has a way of evening the score and teaching lessons. One of these girls is pregnant. I can hear you laughing.

She has prided herself on being a size zero all school year long. Now her face is chubby, her belly is sticking out of her too-tight jeans and it won't be long before her feet swell up beyond the point of being able to wear her stripper heels.

Motherhood will change her. She will become a woman because of it. And the day will come when some teacher, some caregiver, some girl in line a the supermarket is mean to her or her little angel and she'll know how it feels to be me. If someday someone bullies her child she'll get a taste of what she has done to others with impunity her whole life.

I have no idea if she'll actually understand the irony, or change her nasty, selfish and rude behavior. At the very least what she is doing is unprofessional and unbecoming to teachers. At worst it's a purposeful and willful attempt to be rude to another human being.

And if at the end of the day I am that powerful and intimidating and I simply scare her, then I guess I should learn how to pity her and forgive her cowardice.

Although that shit won't fly after she becomes a mother. No then she won't have any excuse not to "woman up."

My and my Asperger's, which I keep in my pocket like a pet, are going to be just fine. I can't change this rude little girl. I can only ignore her, but my Asperger's can't. If she knew how much her rude behavior bothered me, how much it hurt my feelings, how I flashback to all the times girls like her snubbed me in school hallways and called me names and pulled my hair and made me cry, would she care? Would she change? Or would she secretly love the fact that she is getting to me and causing me pain?

I like to think she is an adult and if I were able to explain to her how hurtful her actions are that she would change, but I know better. My Asperger's makes me a keen observer of human behavior. I am sure to be sadly disappointed by this girl, until she becomes a woman. Because a woman would never treat another woman this way. No, only little petty girls who still think life is like high school act like this towards other adults.

I will turn the other cheek. I will be the bigger person. I hate being the bigger person. I hate ignoring bullies. I guess that is why I am writing this blog today. Maybe secretly I am hoping she will find this post someday and realize it is about her and know that I think she dresses like a slut around little kids and acts like a high school girl and maybe I am hoping she will cry and feel bad about herself so I won't feel so alone in my pain and bitterness.

Maybe it's the Asperger's or maybe I'm just a girl, stuck in high school, waiting to get even.  

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