I was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome when I was in grade school, after my little brother was diagnosed with Kanner’s syndrome. There was initial skepticism that my diagnosis may have been decided by my relation to my little brother, but that was dispelled after it was correlated with various unexplained psychobehavioral traits I’d exhibited growing up, and the presence of a shared birth mark that suggests a contributing genetic factor. There’s speculation around what caused this genetic factor, but it’s potentially linked with both parents’ military service.
Today, I typically don’t bother to tell people about my diagnosis unless it ever comes up, because I think people view it as more significant than it is and I don’t want people to change the way they see me based solely on their misunderstanding of or prior experiences with ASD. Most people say they would never be able to tell and sometimes even have a hard time believing that I am on the spectrum. Which is good, because it means I’m being allowed to live a normal life likr I’ve always wanted instead of being seen as needing some assistance or handicap.
I would have much rather that I was never diagnosed, though my brother’s was entirely necessary. My life trajectory would have been significantly better across many dimensions. The knowledge of my diagnosis only ever hindered me throughout my childhood development stages. It might not be too much to say that it traumatized me. I spent the next decade building and refining a mask to hide behind, to shield myself and maintain full control over how my presence is perceived. And now I can’t take it off.
What’s worse is when I came to find that, as the old adage goes, we all wear masks of our own creation. The only thing making mine perhaps notably distinct is that it’s creation and refinement was feverishly dwelt over for almost two thirds of my life now. How I was perceived was always in the forefront of my mind, whether or not I had an actionable plan to change. Every word I spoke, every move I made, was either in an attempt to appear normal or hopeless abandon as I lost confidence in my ability to hide in plain sight. It damn near killed me.
For the very reason of this life experience I have expounded here before you today, I do not respect or encourage any element of self-diagnoses that could lead an individual to suffer the torments I did. And before you say anything about resources – if you are Asperger’s, odds are they won’t be enough and many of them are unnecessary concessions that will hinder you.
Well I guess it quite depends on your view towards a diagnosis of ASD. For some it can be relief to understand themselves and for some like your case it may weigh you down. The motive of that knowledge and functioning in NT society is important on whether a diagnosis really helps I guess.
I have not yet taken a formal diagnosis because I don’t really see a benefit for me (I have an ADHD one though, but I don’t think it explains the whole story), and as you already mentioned masking is a thing and it seems to get “easier” further in life as you learn to mask better.
For others it may be beneficial. I don’t think you should project your experience onto others, just because it wasn’t good for you.
After all a diagnosis should help you function better in society and understand yourself better. It shouldn’t weigh you down (sorry if that’s your experience).
After having read too many articles about all of that stuff, it’s after all labels for strong and strongly correlating as I like it to call personality traits (or “conditions”). So yeah, if the label (i.e. diagnosis) helps you, good for you. But if you function well enough in society without additional help, sure you probably don’t really need a formal diagnosis, but I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t self-diagnose, when you’ve done your research, and you want some explanation for your behavior.
I was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome when I was in grade school, after my little brother was diagnosed with Kanner’s syndrome. There was initial skepticism that my diagnosis may have been decided by my relation to my little brother, but that was dispelled after it was correlated with various unexplained psychobehavioral traits I’d exhibited growing up, and the presence of a shared birth mark that suggests a contributing genetic factor. There’s speculation around what caused this genetic factor, but it’s potentially linked with both parents’ military service.
Today, I typically don’t bother to tell people about my diagnosis unless it ever comes up, because I think people view it as more significant than it is and I don’t want people to change the way they see me based solely on their misunderstanding of or prior experiences with ASD. Most people say they would never be able to tell and sometimes even have a hard time believing that I am on the spectrum. Which is good, because it means I’m being allowed to live a normal life likr I’ve always wanted instead of being seen as needing some assistance or handicap.
I would have much rather that I was never diagnosed, though my brother’s was entirely necessary. My life trajectory would have been significantly better across many dimensions. The knowledge of my diagnosis only ever hindered me throughout my childhood development stages. It might not be too much to say that it traumatized me. I spent the next decade building and refining a mask to hide behind, to shield myself and maintain full control over how my presence is perceived. And now I can’t take it off.
What’s worse is when I came to find that, as the old adage goes, we all wear masks of our own creation. The only thing making mine perhaps notably distinct is that it’s creation and refinement was feverishly dwelt over for almost two thirds of my life now. How I was perceived was always in the forefront of my mind, whether or not I had an actionable plan to change. Every word I spoke, every move I made, was either in an attempt to appear normal or hopeless abandon as I lost confidence in my ability to hide in plain sight. It damn near killed me.
For the very reason of this life experience I have expounded here before you today, I do not respect or encourage any element of self-diagnoses that could lead an individual to suffer the torments I did. And before you say anything about resources – if you are Asperger’s, odds are they won’t be enough and many of them are unnecessary concessions that will hinder you.
Well I guess it quite depends on your view towards a diagnosis of ASD. For some it can be relief to understand themselves and for some like your case it may weigh you down. The motive of that knowledge and functioning in NT society is important on whether a diagnosis really helps I guess.
I have not yet taken a formal diagnosis because I don’t really see a benefit for me (I have an ADHD one though, but I don’t think it explains the whole story), and as you already mentioned masking is a thing and it seems to get “easier” further in life as you learn to mask better.
For others it may be beneficial. I don’t think you should project your experience onto others, just because it wasn’t good for you.
After all a diagnosis should help you function better in society and understand yourself better. It shouldn’t weigh you down (sorry if that’s your experience).
After having read too many articles about all of that stuff, it’s after all labels for strong and strongly correlating as I like it to call personality traits (or “conditions”). So yeah, if the label (i.e. diagnosis) helps you, good for you. But if you function well enough in society without additional help, sure you probably don’t really need a formal diagnosis, but I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t self-diagnose, when you’ve done your research, and you want some explanation for your behavior.