Serving Master

In the past 15 years I have been in and out of counseling. Long story short, my mom put my sisters and I into counseling when she and my dad got divorced. It took two years of counseling and the advice of a friend before I admitted to the abuse my dad had made me suffer for 15 years (abusive, verbal, physical, emotional).

As a child in therapy, I saw many different doctors (even back then I was quick to say “I don’t like this person, I’d rather not deal with them.” I had one therapist (who should be banned from every giving therapy to anyone, herself included) that actually suggested that I had sinned in some form and that my abuse was God’s punishment for that sin. She wanted to “pray the devil out” of me. I laughed angrily, stood up, told her to go fuck herself and walked out. That was a defining moment for me though. Teenage rebellion and pent up anger aside, I learned that it was okay to stand up for myself and that this kitty has claws.

Different doctors had different theories on what I should be diagnosed with. I heard everything from bi-polar disorder (which I vehemently fought against) to extreme Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, to anxiety disorder, to clinical depression, to suicidal risk, to… well you get the picture.

The only things I was officially tested for and diagnosed with are ADD and OCD and PTSD. I’ve been on medication for the ADD and the PTSD off an on since I was 15. I’ve had my meds changed, the dosages adjusted, told to stop them completely, told to never quit meds cold turkey and told that I don’t need medication, I just need pray or meditation. It was extremely exhausting.

I wound up coming away from sessions feeling (more often than not) like a talking lab rat that was made to be analyzed but not listened to. I flat out quit going the moment I turned 18. I didn’t see the point of paying someone to listen to me, that didn’t actually listen to me.

Two years ago (at age 28) I decided I could benefit from talking to a therapist. I couldn’t force my mother in law to get therapy and the stress of dealing with her manipulative tactics was wearing on me. I was depressed, moody, frustrated and annoyed enough to take matters into my own hands, and I was willing to finally, voluntarily, start talking about my past and dealing with the crap I had been through as a kid.

I did extensive research on different psychiatrists in my area and finally found one I thought would be a good fit. I was right. Doctor C was awesome. I think a large part of the reason I got more out of therapy with her than I ever had in therapy before was because I willingly signed up this time around. As a kid, you don’t really get much of a choice when it comes to going to see a psychiatrist. As an adult, I got to make the decision, pick what I wanted to talk about (instead of being there to discuss my parent’s marriage issues and later my abuse).

I got to set the pace and decide how much or how little I wanted to share. I didn’t feel pressured to talk about stuff I wasn’t ready to get into. It was a relief. Those feelings allowed me to feel freedom in opening up more. If I was uncomfortable going into detail, that was okay. If I couldn’t quite put my feelings and frustrations into words, that was okay too.

Doctor C put me on an anti-depressant to help me deal with my mother in law (she was and is a horrible person to ever have to deal with) and to help me stay balanced through our discussions about my past. When we moved from New York to Texas, I knew finding a new psychiatrist that was just as awesome as Doctor C was going to be a challenge.

Since my research paid off so well when looking for a good psychiatrist here in Texas. Enter Doctor R. I found her through more internet searches. I double checked to make sure my insurance would cover the cost and made an appointment. I was worried about seeing a therapist down here because we’re technically in the “bible belt” region and I’m an atheist who enjoys BDSM and rough sex. Doctor R is originally from India and is refreshingly open minded about everything. She’s also a “kink aware” therapist, meaning she doesn’t view BDSM in a bad light and is perfectly open to discussing it with patients and she doesn’t view BDSM as a psychological problem that needs to be cured.

One of the things that I have been working on with Doctor R is understanding why I am the way I am. Why is it so hard for me to make friends? I can pull off being social for short bursts, but I grow tired and weary of it quickly. I prefer to type, email, text and message people instead of calling or talking face to face. I’ve even lost friendships over not calling someone or answering their calls often enough for them.

I am constantly “talking with my hands” and twiddling my thumbs, biting my lower lip when nervous or concentrating. I get extremely annoyed when someone tries to help me do something or give me advice unless I’ve asked for it first, but seem to have no problem jumping in and giving them my advice and help without asking if they want it first. And I absolutely hate to be too close physically to anyone. Hugs bother me, I tense up every time and handshakes baffle me. (Why do we have to shake someone’s hand when greeting them? Why is “hello, nice to meet you” not enough?)

There are just too many pieces of me that I didn’t understand, and I wanted to figure out. I’ve been diagnosed with ADD since I was a kid, but struggle with the question of “do I really have ADD or was that just because juggling a major secret like abusive fathers and school work was too much for one small child?”

For the longest time I feared that these quirks were leftover scars from my abusive past. Things I felt I’d never learn to control, get over or learn to cope with. I worried that nearly 15 years after my father stopped abusing me, his actions still had a firm hold on my character, my psyche and my mental state.

Frustrated, I turned to the internet for answers while simultaneously worrying that I might become a hypochondriac in the process of researching symptoms. I’ve found it’s easier for me to research it on my own, come up with a possible answer and then bring all of the information to Doctor R first, instead of spending an hour discussing possibilities that I know very little about.

One of my friends doesn’t understand my need to know why I am the way I am. “Can’t you just be happy with who you are, without trying to label everything?” she asked me once. “No, I can’t. I have to organize it, label it, and understand it before I can understand me.” I responded. 

True to life, the answer came to me when I had stopped looking for it. Master and I got into a fight about something stupid I can’t even remember now. I believed that I was right, he believed that he was right, neither of us was willing to compromise or give up the topic. Angry, I stormed out of his office and went to our room. Needing answers and understanding on his quirks I decided to finally sit down and read one of the many “Understanding your loved one with Asperger’s” books that I bought when Master told me he had Asperger’s Syndrome.

Originally I’d found the books boring and after getting to know Master in person a bit, I discovered I didn’t need the books to help me understand Master, I seemed to understand his reasons for doing things and socially awkward ways just fine on my own. But that night I was just frustrated and reading was better than going back downstairs to continue the argument.

I read about how an Aspie (a loving nick-name for someone with Asperger’s Syndrome) needed to understand things logically. How even their thoughts are usually from a logical point of view instead of an emotional one, and how when they are emotional, it’s extremely difficult for them to be able to put their feelings into words. I stopped reading for a moment and thought “Hey, I do that!” but shook my head and ignored my own feelings, I was reading to understand Master more, not myself.

With each new chapter, each explanation of symptoms for Asperger’s Syndrome, I kept finding “But why is that weird? I do that. I don’t think that’s so strange” moments. Finally, but chapter 8 (in a 12 chapter book) I stopped reading and just allowed myself to reflect for a bit. It dawned on me that the reason I was able to relate so easily to the people being described in this book might be more than just coincidence.

Timidly, I came downstairs and asked Master about Asperger’s some more. He has been diagnosed with AS since he was 11. He’s struggled with it, learned about it, studied it and researched it a lot longer than I have. I worded my questions very carefully, still trying to process what my brain was trying to tell me.

“Do you think I might have Asperger’s?” I finally asked.

He paused and thought for a bit, probably going over all the different scenarios in his head that I was going over in mine.

“I don’t know. You could always take some of the online tests and then talk to your therapist about it.” he responded.

Why didn’t I think of that? I chastised myself mentally. I practically ran to the computer. I took about 8 different online tests for Asperger’s Syndrome. All of them had the same results. The chance that I have Asperger’s Syndrome was extremely high.

I sat there, staring at the eighth test results and just letting it sink in. I know that some people hate labels. I understand that too many people view Asperger’s as a disability. I am not one of those people. Pure joy flowed through me as I realized that I might finally have the answers to so many questions I’d been asking about myself for years. Excitement bubbled beneath my stunned expression. I sighed in contentment and took my findings to Master, printing off a copy of each test and each result so that I could bring it up with Doctor R.

Yesterday was my appointment with her. Nervously I sat in the waiting room, trying to keep calm and remember all the different things I wanted to discuss and the order in which I wanted to go over them. The stack of printed test results clutched in my hand. I forced myself not to read through them again.

I tapped my foot nervously and then tried to stop when I caught myself doing it. I twiddled my thumbs and wrung my wrists, smiling at the simple gesture that used to irritate me. The only thing that was bugging me was the ADD diagnosis. How can I be super focused if I have Asperger’s and have issues staying focused if I have ADD? How do the two co-exist in one person?

Before I could struggle with that question any longer, Doctor R appeared in the door. I swear I bounced from the waiting room to her office.

“I think I have Asperger’s” I blurted out as soon as she shut the door allowing us privacy. I don’t usually just blurt things out like that so I think I shocked her a bit, though she could have just been processing my announcement as well. She walked over to her chair and sat down before asking the normal therapist styled questions. “Why do you think you have Asperger’s Syndrome? How did you come to this conclusion?” but then she asked me if I was interested in being officially tested for Asperger’s Syndrome.  I told her that I was and then asked my own set of questions. “How do you get officially diagnosed? What does the test consist of? How soon can I sign up?”

I just want to know more about who I am and why I do things differently than others. I enjoy learning as much about myself as I can. I look at it like a puzzle, I want to see the big picture while analyzing each piece before putting it together. It fascinates me. I do this with random strangers and close friends too, I just don’t verbalize it as much lol.

Doctor R doesn’t do the testing for AS herself, but there are two other doctors in their practice that do. Star has her own therapy appointment coming up (different doctor, same place, her appointment is for her ADHD medication). Doctor R promised to find out if her colleagues are able to do the testing (and not already swamped with patients) and if so, when we can schedule an appointment with them by the time of Star’s appointment.

In the meantime, I’m still reading everything I can get my hands on about Asperger’s Syndrome and ADD and OCD and how they all manage to co-exist in one person (apparently it’s quite common which is a relief). I love learning and reading and I am looking forward to the testing.

Because this is so fresh on my mind, I’m sure I’ll blog about it again shortly. I have so much I want to write about when it comes to AS. I’d keep going now but my wrists are starting to ache and I’m 2322 words deep already.

Until Next Time,
–Autumn