I didn't really get a chance to decide. My shrink told me I was. I was being treated for what I knew was depression and PTSD, but he figured out the Asperger thing back in 1996. I'm the same age as John Elder Robison, and was dignosed improbably in the same year, a time when adults on the spectrum weren't likely to be diagnosed as being properly. Just like Robison's diagnosis was a fluke, so was mine. I finally decided to seek some help. I didn't have insurance, so I did a walk in screening at a local mental hospital. They set me up with a program that was training medical residents. The doctor I had was on a path to be a child psychiatrist, but was working with all sorts of patients as part of his residency. Because of his background in child psych, he eventually picked up on it. He diagnosed me at first as having social phobia, which I knew was BS, but there was certain aspects to my personality that to his seemed like social phobia. He realized after consulting with his peers that I was Asperger. Remember, this was the year where the medical professionals in the US were first learning about it. With the social phobia out of the way, he agreed that I did have PTSD.