Had an epiphany after a rude awakening

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I stumbled upon my (self) diagnosis in a most peculiar way (I'm Matt, howrya?): My boss is a minor celebrity in the sports world and got featured in a national magazine. It was just one line, and it was pretty well buried. I was going to laugh it off, but it upset my family greatly. I wasn't mentioned by name, but I was described as the "autistic trail builder." At the time I just thought someone in their ignorance was using it as a synonym for "shy" so I summoned up the appropriate level of outrage, got the editors on the phone and negotiated a retraction (my higher ups were trying to get me to demand more than that, but I really didn't feel like going there.)

Then the dust settled but the label echoed through my crazy brain. What if they had a point? It would explain a lot. I casually looked over some characteristics, felt a hint of familiarity, but shrugged it off. Then something my mom said in passing really perked up my ears. She mentioned how I had barely spoken the first few years of my life (and not much after that) and that it was concerning enough that my pediatrician discussed it with my parents, but nothing was concluded. In fairness, this was the early 70s and I don't think awareness of ASD was even on the radar.

That hit me like a ton of bricks. I fast forwarded past denial and went straight to acceptance. Took a couple tests that confirmed it in my mind though I don't see the point, as of yet, of seeking an official diagnosis. I'll just say I'm a rogue Aspie.

My early schooling, especially in the first few years, consisted of being shuffled from one glorified closet to another, being tested, prodded, remediated (for exactly what, I never knew, and perhaps my educators were just as clueless). Speech therapy, remedial gym, remedial reading, etc, etc. Honestly, these special classes were a relief, since they took me away from what felt like a hostile environment of boisterous classmates and teachers who, to me at the time, seemed like they despised kids (I also had some really sweet teachers, but the cruel ones made a lasting impression.).

I jumped all over the place academically. No one could figure out where I belonged. I had no friends except for the stray misfit I would latch onto during recess. I would lose things on a regular basis, miss homework assignments, write illegibly, internalize shame for just existing it would seem. I did everything super slow, day dreamed, created alternative worlds in my head. I was in school but can't recall many times I was actually there.

Right on cue I was bullied relentlessly from middle school almost straight through to graduation. I grew terminally anxious, popping antacids like candy, pacing away half the night, terrified of dying from some imagined disease or from impending atomic war (this was in the waning moments of the cold war when it seemed like things could blow at anytime).

I had strange obsessive habits that I never thought as being eccentric. I would consume trivia religiously and keep detailed records of various things. If my parents thought this was odd, they never mentioned it. As one example I would line up sheets of paper and keep comprehensive stats of my favorite nfl team every week.

My romantic life, or lack thereof, was a disaster. Lacking the facilities or cojones to even approach anyone, I would fixate on the most attractive girl in class and build an elaborate fantasy relationship. I obsessed over a girl for close to five years. She was actual flesh and blood, but everything I thought about her was a fabrication, including my feelings. The guys I hung around with finally delivered the news to her, and she reportedly got a good laugh out of it. I drank well that night.

I managed to clamor to the point, academically, where I was considered "normal." Oddly I would do well in classes others found unconventional and difficult and mediocre in most of my other classes. I got the idea that I had a brain only in my last two years of High School.

My "relationships" were starting to grow a bit more rooted in reality, but almost wholly dysfunctional otherwise. I would gain friendship with a girl and proceed to fixate on her until it became an unmitigated disaster dabbling into stalkerish behavior that was pretty harmless in retrospect although thoroughly creepy.

College was more of the same with the addition of binge drinking. I made a few oddball friends. My academic performance was inconsistent, I either excelled or did poorly. There wasn't much of a middle ground.

Graduated and that's when the real fun started. I had no idea where I fit in careerwise and floundered in menial jobs for several years picking up several useless internships along the way. The menial jobs even turned sour as I would self sabotage out of resentment and desperation. I slunk into my parent's basement and gradually deteriorated mentally. I was on the verge of agoraphobia having developed full blown panic attacks. I spent a lot of time in bed in abject terror that my heart would explode. I ate little and always standing up. I forced myself to walk outside if only for a couple blocks.

An old friend offered to enroll me in school again out of state and not knowing where else to turn, I obliged. I went to school at night and worked by day and the panic attacks gradually subsided through exposure though it got pretty treacherous at times.

I guess I was working too much to be haunted by my obsessive brain. But once I got over it, I felt just as much on the road to nowhere. At least I was out of my parent's basement. I burned all my bridges and moved west on a whim. I lived in a idyllic alpine town for the next five years, loving the outdoors, as friendless as ever, and still working menial jobs, but some with a hint of professionalism, so that seemed like progress. It was a great place, but my work was driving me mad and some radical changes were about to make it a lot worse. I prepared to quit, but I wanted to make it good. I went into austerity mode, cooked a big pot of rice and beans every week, stopped driving and went on a saving binge. After I quit, I flew to Argentina the next day for an amazing ten week trip (I even got close to having a couple flings, but, alas, found a way to screw it up.)

Came back more discombobulated than ever bouncing from temp job to temp job. Hopped back on the plane and landed in a Mexican town where I taught English for a year (yes it was terrifying at first and no I never quite got used to it).

After that ten year bender, I slunk back into my parent's house. I don't know what they made of me at that juncture and not sure I want to know. I put all my energy into finding a way back out and stumbled upon the situation I'm in now.

I got into a situation in which I would work on a mountainbike trail system in the adjoining mountains in exchange for room and board on a beautiful organic farm. I don't want to add a very long story onto what is already a long story, so suffice it to say that I found something that I was very good at. I discovered my inner savant and I made a modest name for myself over the last seven years. It came with some very serious challenges and trials (no doubt many yet to come) but I feel truly blessed to have found my path and wouldn't trade it for anything. I have full creative freedom and many other freedoms. Everyone else here has equaled, or surpassed, my own level of freakiness. That's just the kind of place it is. It only took me 46 years to get here. And if you read all this, thank you! (but I don't blame you if you didn't. I could write a book, probably )

Hey there, and welcome. That's a pretty interesting story, and I feel a great deal of warmth for you and your challenging and fun journey. I sympathize with several parts, and also got my own out-of-the-blue-but-duh self diagnosis a few months ago, scheduled for an official eval next month. I like the sound of your current outdoorsy self-directed creative space!

Welcome to the club.

Thanks Serina! I love that "out-of-the-blue-but-duh." I blame my cluelessness on the fact that autism wasn't well known in the 70s and by that time I self identified as shy and when that didn't suffice I latched onto ADD. They were both true describers but I never realized that the Aspie diagnosis could encompass both these things and so much more. Plus, like many people, my introduction to autism was through Rain Man and I didn't see the resemblance to my own situation AT ALL.

Hey Serend welcome.

It wan't well known in the 80s, either, and girls especially weren't diagnosed unless it was extreme.

Thanks for the welcome RoadRatt!

Yeah Serina, I spent a lot of time wondering why, between my teachers, family, etc, noone stepped in to give me the help I needed only to now realize that that proper help simply wasn't available forty or even thirty (or even twenty) years ago. Even if they were able to identify the problem, there's a good chance it would've been misunderstood and mishandled. So even though it seemed rough at the time, there might not have been a viable alternative.

Welcome to Wrong Planet!

Welcome to WP, Serend. You have a fascinating story, and I'd read your book for sure. What is the farm like?

Thanks Data! I'm realizing that the owner of this farm, it's safe to say, is on the neurodivergent side of things as well which may be why I've gotten on so well here. The place is stunning. There's a large grey barn built around a tree on the one side of town with a huge inn built up from the old farmhouse across the road. There are some vegetable plots, an adjacent goat barn and several grazing fields on a hillside with man made ponds and a bordering forest. On the other side of town are several barns (mostly for show) and some cabins to host guests for destination weddings. In back of it all is a mountain range with dozens of miles of trails that wind all the way to the summit which has a stone cabin and clear views to the valley and distant mountain ranges (one can easily identify mountains about seventy miles in the distance.) I'm still trying to figure out how I managed to find this place.

Thanks for the welcome Anons!

I read every word of the OP----as well as this, your last post (and all of your posts, in-between, on this thread)----and, oh, what a GREAT story!! I SOOOO wanna live there, TOO!!

It kinda stinks when we're only just beginning to grow-up at our age----I've totally been there----but, at least we can say: "I might actually make it, now"! !

WELCOME!! I'm so glad you're where you are, in life----and, I'm so glad you're HERE!! I hope you find even MORE things, here, that you've been lookin'-for!!

All the best,

Cat

Thanks Cat! I left out some details, but this farm is exceedingly strange as well. I've thought of it as Alice (Al?) in Wonderland and even constructed a trail named Rabbit Hole just to drive home the point. I'm sure I'll find many great things here too. I feel quite at home already and I'm not entirely sure I want to grow up, but I'll fake it the best I can.

The₣ farm sounds like the perfect place to enjoy nature. Your last post also makes it sound very mysterious. What is life actually like there?

Well, Data, as long as I can remember I had an affinity for trails and nature. As soon as me and my family went anywhere near a patch of woods I was off wandering either following a path, bushwacking, trying to find the source of a stream or the top of a hill. I could never get enough. So I saw an ad for this farm on a wwoofing page (voluntary work on organic farms) and it uniquely offered the chance to work on a trail system.

I took the train up and got picked up by some other workers at the time. We were already in a pretty small town and we drove another half hour into the hills until it was thoroughly remote. They took me up into what looked like a sort of barracks set up on the top of the barn--plastic cots with thin blankets, and there was a wtf moment or two of incredulity in which I wondered what I was getting into this time.

We had meetings with the owner every morning at a beautifully restored general store that he also owned. Nine times out of ten he would go off in revelries about his own adventures about running these insane ultraendurance races in far off places like the arctic or in deserts and not much planning would actually take place. Some of my partners in crime dropped me off at the trailhead to work on a new trail with a few garden tools but no instruction to speak of. The owner did come by to check on me and I had asked for some direction and in response he said something like--I don't know. You're the trail guy. You figure it out.

So that's exactly what I did. I had done a little voluntary work prior to this and studied up and delved into the subject like only an Aspie can and experimented, and worked my butt off, got some things wrong, got other things right. Broke all my tools until they decided to bring out the ones actually meant for the trail.

It was the kind of place where the owner would bring in almost anyone to pursue whatever crazy idea they had--He just let them go at it and, almost always, they would fail, but the owner kept on. It was almost as if he was conducting a social experiment. I was one of the only people there without an agenda. I just wanted to work on trails for the enjoyment of it.

Fast forward a few years and I've seen dozens of people pass through here. Many of those were elite athletes that the owner cultivated for his sports business. They would work and train here full time. He would host crazy endurance races on the trails which attracted more than a few eccentric people who I felt right at home with. I always had the talent of hiding in plain sight. So everyone just left me to do my work without much oversight which I loved. I developed a strong passion for it. By the time people did notice, I had done so much work on the trails with so much diligence that people were starting to recognize my work and the trails were becoming quite popular and well regarded around the state.

I moved into a small house rent free and my living expenses are taken care of by the owner. Its by no means lucrative but its the kind of simple life I'm attracted to and enjoy. I've met many strange and wonderful friends along the way. At least one or two are fellow aspies I'm almost certain. This makes sense in hindsight because this is the sort of situation that many aspies would gravitate towards.

Wow, this is SOOOO very exciting, to me!! I would give almost ANYTHING for a job, like that!!

Could you tell us a little more, please..... Like, about how many workers have there ever been, at-one-time? How many workers are you in-charge-of----or, do you work on the trails all-by-yourself, and the other workers, work on other stuff? What other stuff are workers, working-on? What was it like, when you all sat-down for meals----was it a really long table, with benches? Who cooked for y'all? (I would imagine it would be too much [depending on the number of workers] for just the owner's wife.)

Now that you're not living at the farm anymore (or, is "the owner" of the small house, the guy who originally hired you?), are you getting an income from your work, now? Are you still working-on the trails? You said that your work has become well-regarded around the state----has anybody else wanted to hire you, to do the same work on THEIR land? Also, if you don't mind saying----in what state are you located?

Maybe you should send a thank you email to that journalist who could clearly see who you were before you knew yourself. They probably got in trouble for writing something that had to be retracted. It might take the sting out to know their observation gave you greater self-knowledge and success in the long run.

I like the way you're thinking, Ariel, but the journalist never actually met me. He was just going off of hearsay from someone else who just assumed I was autistic. I wasn't that upset when I saw it since it was something so buried within the article that I doubt many people even noticed it and even if they did there's not much of a chance they would connect it back to me. I sought the retraction for my family's sake who, in retrospect, didn't want to face up to the fact that the article may have been right and that they failed to see the truth for all these years (and still don't). Plus its thoroughly reckless and potentially libelious to post any medical details without fact checking and getting clearance with the person in question. In the wrong hands and wrong situation it could potentially damage someone's life.

The reporter felt sorry about it and knew he screwed up. In no way was I trying to get him to do more than take responsibility for his error and I was very circumspect throughout. Yes I'm grateful for the situation and where it's lead, but if someone attempts to teach me how to swim by throwing me in the lake and I manage to make it ashore alive, I won't be sending flowers anytime soon