My Story

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Hello.

I thought it would be a very, very good idea for me to write down my story. I am very down at the moment and I need some perspective. And maybe someone will read this - I like that thought. It is a thrilling read too.

So. Lets start at the beginning. Germany, 1987. A small city.
I was born into a divorced marriage. The divorce was completed a few months before my birth. I had two older brothers, the oldest was severely mentally challenged.

The family I was born into was a nightmare for everyone involved. My mother was a violent alcoholic and drug addict. My father, a very special kind of as*hole himself, hid from her in the southern part of country and left the 3 sons with her. I have very strong memories of the first few years of my life and none is pleasant. Beatings, cruelty, hunger because mother gone for days, living on street for days as nobody opens door, and so on. A completely disgusting household. No christmas, no toys. Alcohol. Strange men. Yeah...
Sometimes my grandma came and tried to took a little care of us. She was the mother of my father.

Then, when I was five, I was playing with my brother and we wanted to see what happens when you take an axe and punch open a spray can. So we did. We looked like leopards afterwards, as that thing exploded. My brother was so extremely afraid of my mother that he told her it was me and my idea. After another beating she yelled at me "I do not want you. I give you away." She drove me to a hospital (because of the paint I guess? Who knows) and called my grandmother. I saw my mother only 3 more times in my life after that.

So then I lived with my grandmother and grandfather in a small village. My father came to visit me about once a year, that bastard. He said he would come and I would sit infront of the front-door for hours and hours, waiting for him and then he called and said "Cannot manage this time. But how about in half a year?"

My grandfather was very ill. The kidneys were not working, so he had dialysis for years. When I came he was starting to become demented. He hated me. He called me the son of the devil and made dark prophecies about what an evil monster I am going to become.

Elementary school started. Lots of problems. I got bullied for being the kid without parents. For some reason my elementary teacher hated me. She thought I was a liar and took every chance she had to pick on me. Would love to have asked her what that was about, but she died before I could.

School was not good for me. I was intensely looking forward towards it, but it turned sour quickly. Now I know that I have genius level intellect with sever learning disabilities, back then I thought people were probably right when they called me lazy and stupid.

In second grade my grandfather started to die slowly and painfully to an infected wound on his stomach, lying on our couch. My grandmother ordered me to "give him company" while playing with my lego. He screamed at me to not dare make a noise. So I had to sits hours silently besides that dying man. It was not the most fun I ever had. I was relieved when he finally died. My grandmother was not. A depression gripped her that never went away, until her death. My hobby was reading at that time. Books far beyond my age, but nobody noticed. Many clearly autistic behaviors where interpreted as me being stupid, mean or because of bad childhood. This continues throughout my school life.

Elementary school went over and I went to the next school. It was in a city a few kilometers away, so it was kind of a new beginning. I blew it. My learning disabilities roared and I was a miserable pupil, even though I knew I understood and I knew I tried. I also started to suspect that I was not stupid at all. The stress of school was horrendous. My grandmother tried to "motivate" me by telling me that if I do not manage school, she will give to an orphanage. As you can see, she was a warm and sensitive woman.
She lived through worldwar 2, and as such had many emotional problems. The biggest was: fear of abandonment. Stronger through the dead of her lifelong husband she started to make me her puppy:
She made me completely and utterly depended on her. From one abusive woman to the other, no wonder I am as gay as they get

Where normal parents make their children independent, she did the opposite, through a variety of techniques. It was like living in a prison, built just for me. From a child of the streets to becoming imprisoned in a golden cage. She was even envious of friends I played with, and destroyed every friendship I could have had. We were also very, very poor as my grandmother was to proud to ask for financial help. We lived far beneath the poverty line and the state would have given us lots of help, if only the stubborn woman asked.

Years came and went, and as hard as she tried, she could not completely stop me from developing into a person. I am a lover of stories of all kind, as they are what saved me. She did not think to take away my books and stories, big mistake.

When I was 13 or so, my mother had a good phase or something and we saw each other three times. My brothers were still living with her. My jealous grandmother forbid seeing her. Years later I found out that starting from those meetings my mother send me many mails, all of which my grandmother threw into the trash unopened.

School was difficult, but good for me. I was severely bullied now, in school as well as the village i grew up. But I won against the bullies in school. I was always very good with people and in the end my former bullies even wanted to be my friends. To this day probably the most important thing for my self-confidence. Me being bad in school was ridiculously a good thing, as that created a bond to the other pupils.
I was discovering that I was gay, but ignored it. Could not handle it at the time, and my grandmother was a raging homophobic.

When I was 16 my mother died on cancer and a life of drugs. I did not care. I did not know that woman. People were pretty shocked by my lack of reaction. One year later, I was in class 11 (of 13) my brother, the not-mentally-challanged one, committed suicide. He hanged himself Sunday morning, the birthday of my grandmother. He thought himself guilty for the death of my mother. To this death I had a very strong reaction.

You see, at the same time of life I was considering suicide. To this day I think it was either him or me. His suicide was my wakeup call. Around the same time I watched Lord of the Rings for the first time. It helped me to process the situation.
And it changed everything:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UxQgiTY-0LQ

"I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of that had happened."
"So do all who life to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

And that I did. I started making true friends, I fought against my grandmother and slowly but steadily I started living my life and becoming my own person. It was an explosive time. My life improved.

Over the next four years I had massive successes. I became a very good actor, made friends, dreams for the future, experiences. I made my A-levels, did my civil-service (at that time mandatory for men in germany, no longer though) at an intense place to work, where I was appreciated. Even more friends. Even more hope. I even came out of the closet to the close friends, a massive, massive step for me.
And then s**t hit the fan.

The better I became the worse my grandmother became. When I told her I plan to study she went into a fit. It was extremely difficult with her, she wanted no less then my whole life committed to her, which I could not give.
I had a night-shift with a dear colleague of mine and I told him "Sometimes I wish she would just die."

And so she did. In a very messy way.
Beware what you wish for.

Because of her doing everything to make me dependent on her I was massively unprepared. To that day I never had to clean my room, wash dishes or clothes, I never had any money, in short: I did not know at all how life works. And I crashed, hard.
It was the worse time of my life.

My grandmother left me with nothing but debts and a rented house that was not cared for, and which I, of course, could not continue to live in.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdX7j0w5zj4 That was my theme song.

Most of the friends I had where overwhelmed by my misery and could not deal.
Because my grandmother was spoiling me so hard, my not-really-functioning autism was undiscovered and yeah, I guess most of you can imagine how messy things became. Incidentally, it was the same for my mother: She came from a family that was very rich when she was young, which also allowed her to seem to function, even though she never did. Just like me.

So began the time that I still think of as "hell." I never really recovered. This is about seven years ago.

I survived but I made a shitton of debts and mad some big mistakes. And as it always is: When you hit your lowest point the vultures come. Very bad people used me and made the situation even more miserable.
What saved my life is my dear boyfriend. I am a very lucky person to have met him at precisely the right time. He came and helped me to understand and manage life, and at the same time I could help him too. He had his own troubles and we made each other better. A lot. His family dislikes me, but I can deal. Sometimes I wonder if he knows how lucky he is, to have a boyfriend without family.

When things started to improve I was unwilling to move on to a normal life. I dedicated myself to find out what really happened to me, my mother, my brother. When I looked for help from doctors and social workers I got little more then ridicule.

I got an ADHD diagnosis, but was not satisfied at all. To many questions unanswered by that. Years went by and I became insane, sane again. A little drug problem here, depression here, no results here. Everytime I thought I found something out it turned out to be dust. It was an insane time of my life.
But I became lucky, again: For some reason I watched a video about autistic kids and it hit me. Zac, was his name, and he was me. He was one of the children in the video and he behaved exaclty like me at his age, about 10-12. They way he moved, he talked, he thought, everything. It was like looking into a magic mirror that shows the past.

I researched autism and it became clear. Me and my mother where autistics. Every little detail I know about her and me, everything made sense. Where before the best solutions gave 10% explanation, autism gave 100%.
I needed a few months to accept. I always hoped to find something, well, curable.

I am tired now. I am 26 but holy crap, I need a break. Because of that I put myself (like the idiot I am ) on the anti depressant and anxiety medicine my boyfriend takes, so that the final step of my journey becomes more easy.

I am pretty isolated for about 6 years now, but I am slowly changing that. It is difficult though, because my whole life anxiety was an issue, and since the death of my grandmother a big one.
Through some financial tricks I have finally some room to breath and heal, and once the damn medicine kicks in I will go out and get my official diagnosis and, finally after all those years, the help I need.

I want to become an author, but at the moment I cannot write professionally. I do not want the pressure right now. I want some peace and quiet.


The next few things I have to do are absolutely clear. I need to do some sports, stop smoking, make some friends and get professional help. That does not sound very hard to me, I just need that little push. A little recharge.

And there we have it, my story. If anyone read that massive thing, thank you. Maybe leave a comment?

I read your story from beginning to end. Very touching. Imagine how many more years you still have on your adventure! I hope there are no snags, no eddies, no abyss to stare into. Those are the worst.

Welcome to Wrong Planet!

Welcome! Thank you for taking the time to share 'you'. I admire your resilience and ability to persevere through what life has thrown at you.

Welcome

Hello, and welcome to WP! That's quite the life you've had, friend. Thank you for sharing your story with us.

You guys (and gals) are super sweet. I feel all fuzzy and proud inside now. Thanks!

thank you for sharing!

Welcome

Welcome, and thanks for sharing the story of your journey so far! Your resilience is inspiring.

I can indeed understand your wanting to take a break for some much-deserved recuperation. Best wishes

Touching story. I wish u the best!

Thank you for sharing your story with us. I take my hat off to you! I trust that things will get better from now on.

I'm a gay Aspie and was only diagnosed 4 years ago: had I known earlier, I could have coped better in the past. It would also have helped my b/f to handle things better...he always says he wishes they could have made a correct diagnosis of me years ago...

All of the best for WP. Don't give up on your writing as you write pretty well. I also enjoy writing [ both non-fiction as well as children's sci-fi fiction and keep trying to perfect what material I have, when I am in the correct frame of mind for it.