Asperger's and child abuse/neglect

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I have been reading a lot about Asperger's to the detriment of several papers I have to write... because I think I may have it.

One thing I have noticed is that most descriptions are about children with Asperger's whose families are very observant and concerned about their children. So, I'm wondering about children whose parents were hardly ever around or were abusive verbally or physically. How has that situation, do you think, made you different from "Aspies" with nurturing, concerned parents?

I grew up in a broken home, so it's difficult for me to read these descriptions about kids' parents nurturing their "savant skills" and teaching them how to adapt because it makes me wonder where I would be if my parents had done so for me.

You don't have to read all of this post, by the way. I know it's very long. Only read if it interests you. Quit reading when it doesn't.

I had to learn how to adapt all by myself. I had to think everyone was always making fun of me even when they weren't, only to figure out a decade later that they were probably just trying to communicate to me that they were insecure, too--and that advice, "Laugh with them," just never made sense to me, and no one would explain it further. For one, most people don't actually laugh when they tease you. They may smile, and some nicer ones may wink, but they don't usually laugh. One girl was always saying, "You think you're better than me, don't you?" I remember her tone, which at the time seemed mean, but now I realize after having some friends who've talked like that to me and then explained it, that she was just teasing in a friendly manner. I was supposed to say, "You betcha" or something like that and then laugh. Instead, I would say, "No, I don't," frown, and walk away. This is not to say I am a pro at banter now... my "you betcha" responses tend to be delayed because I have to think about whether the person is being serious or not and if another response would be a better fit. I'm lucky that I have always been creative, so sometimes my creativity can make up for the weirdness of how I'm saying something.

Like at work, my coworkers have a running joke of just randomly in the middle of a conversation that's just out of my earshot being like, "Isn't that right, (MrsPotatoHead)?" And I will think for a minute and say something faux-critical like, "Sure, except that you're wrong about that one major part you just mentioned. Otherwise..." I had to teach myself that skill...and proper inflection is hard. I have learned that most people just want to be silly. I actually like the silly people because they are the most easily satisfied once you know that's what they want.

I almost had a blunder yesterday, though. My director kinda looked at me funny after my coworker said, again in the middle of an out-of-earshot conversation, "Oh, and that (MrsPotatoHead) girl..." (sarcastically), and I went, "Yeah, I know. I annoy the crap out of everyone, don't I?" Except I think my voice inflection was sorta off or maybe "crap" was inappropriate because my director looked at me funny for a few seconds, and I had to smile really big and make eye contact to show I was joking. And then still wondering even after I got the familiar "Oh, I get it" look from her whether she really, truly got it.

Anyway, I grew up with an alcoholic father who spent all my mom's earnings from her greater-than-full-time job on stuff like jewelry for her and electric race car tracks that he would not let me play with because I was too young, and he beat her and my brothers a lot and me rarely because I was his little girl. Instead, he tickled me until it hurt and I would scream when he would come home drunk. And then, when my mom divorced him and we moved, I had to see a counselor because I guess they thought I would be upset about it. But I wasn't. Instead of talking to the therapist, I would just play with the toys. I played with toys in my room by myself a lot. I did have a few friends at times, and they usually followed my lead. My imagination was what interested them. I was more fun than just playing on the swings. And I did not get to play Risk because I was too young and wouldn't understand it. And I did not learn to ride a bike until I was 9 because no one was there to teach me and, finally, my brother did. But I learned to read from my mom--she taught me phonics, and then I started reading really hard stuff beyond my reading level, like books about wildcats and greyhounds. Not just to look at the pictures--I really wanted to know about them. I pretended to be a wildcat at recess, and some other kids would follow my lead. Then, I moved, and all the kids at my new school made fun of me for "talking to the wall." And I was diagnosed with ADD and staring seizures. And I disagreed. I said I was imagining a little man walking and climbing on my desk and that's what they must be confused about.
I failed fifth grade, but that is a blur. I am surprised I remembered as much as I did from before then, actually. The main reason I failed fifth grade was that I was being left home alone with my brothers, and my one brother kept abusing me--he would try out a wrestling move and if I would accidentally hit him or scratch him out of reflex, he'd go off. I ended up locked in my room a lot, which was fine, except that he would get bored and pick the lock. So, then I started going to my friend's apartment after school. She was also unsupervised, so I did not do my homework there, either, and I failed fifth grade.
And in sixth grade, at camp, I mentioned that I saw a pattern that looked like something in the wood of my bed, and I was told I was feverish. I tried to explain that I was just using my imagination, but they made me stay in the cabin and miss the day's activities.
I got straight A's in seventh grade, and then I became a Christian. I used to stand outside at recess and watch my tiny friend climb around in this one hole that had a grate over it. I tried talking to other kids or playing something, but when I did, it turned out too be bad. I wouldn't say or do the right thing, and they'd get tired of me. Or I would misjudge something they said.
I made a new friend in eighth grade who told me she was going to kill herself because her parents were abusing her. I did not realize she was making it all up. I told a teacher who had been telling us to tell him if we ever heard a classmate say something like that, he told the counselor, and she got mad at me because she had to go to the counselor regularly. And then it made her more angry when I would not write notes and leave them in her locker like she wanted me to. I did not understand why I should have to write her notes if we saw each other every day anyway. So, then she wrote herself a note and showed it to the principal, and the school was on lockdown for a day with everyone thinking I was going to kill them and the principal threatening me with expulsion if I did not confess. I almost wish I had confessed because then I could have gone to a different school. Apparently, the note said I wanted to blow up or burn down the school or something. And because I was always so different and weird, and even though I had been trying to fit in, everyone believed it. Even after the police officer said it was not my handwriting, the principal told me, "Well, it still could be you, and you just changed your handwriting." As if the officer would not have thought of that. Through it all, because I was a Christian (the brainwashed type-forced to go to church three times a week), I just kept repeating stupid crap like, "God will get me through this" and "I can't lie because that's a sin."
It was science that got me through that. Any of my classmates who also went to my church apparently believed I would do that, so if it was up to God...
The rest of my life was full of these kinds of hard learning experiences. And my mom was always really distant from it all and did not know what was going on because she worked so much and then developed a disease that took away any remaining energy...

Even today, people think I am either aloof or weird... there is no normal for me. I don't understand the feelings women get when they get so excited about a pair of shoes or a shirt they bought recently. I like getting new things, but I don't feel that it prompts any real emotion when I do. Sometimes anxiety over whether I can afford whatever I am buying. And then I don't buy it. Or if I do, it keeps me up all night until I decide I need to return it. And then I feel stupid for returning it when I really do need it. Like shoes. I have a pair of boots and a pair of sneakers, and my running shoes have holes in them. So I just don't buy things, except for food, which I can't return once I've eaten it. And I can't understand my mom when she buys stuff like a purple shirt when she's already got probably 20 of them and gets excited that she got "a great deal" on it.

And, apparently, I still think some people may actually WANT to read this much text about me... and I'm still not sure if I fit into the AS community. I just know I don't really fit in with the NT one.

Hello, MrsPotatoHead, welcome to WP. Hopefully you'll find a place where you can fit in after all.

Well my upbringing wasn't quite the same as yours, but there were some similarities none-the-less. My parents were older than on average for my peers. I was also adopted. Dad wanted a son, mom wanted a girly-girl. I made both of them unhappy because neither of them were satisfied with me as I was (turned out to be a tomboy). I was odd probably from early infancy. The older I got, the more unusual I became.

Neither of my parents shared many of my likes/dislikes which always seemed to upset them. I was adopted, you'd think they would have realized that I was going to be different. I suppose they expected me to be like them just from being in their close proximity. However, mom was distant, & she rarely ever interacted with me unless it was to dish out some kind of punishment or deal with my needs. Dad worked full time, at 1st, it might have been 6 days a week, which then became 5. Since he wanted a son, it was pretty obvious I was not acceptable. So I spent the majority from a fairly young age alone, unless I needed to be fed, bathed, changed, etc.

I adored books, & it wasn't long before I was actually reading them....not just looking at the pictures. Taught myself to read around aged 3. I also loved music, something which my parents instilled by putting a small transistor radio in my crib to keep me quiet. I grew up on the Beatles, Petunia Clark, The Rolling Stones, plus swing era jazz (my parents had a number of old records). I also loved to draw & color. Because I spent most of my time prior to starting school alone, I had to learn to keep myself entertained. I did my best to stay quiet, & out of the way lest I pissed off mom or dad. The older I got, the more abusive my parents became. I was a lefty....just another no no in their eyes as they were both right handed. They found me to be sinister I suppose. Nothing I did ever made them happy, no matter how hard I tried. I just wanted them to like me, & to fit in.

As I grew up, I wasn't just abused/neglected by my parents, but also bullied by my peers. Like you, some of my peers would make up stories about me just to get me in trouble. This all started in 2nd grade where I was accused of slamming a classmate's head into the pavement. Didn't happen like that...she tripped & fell, as did I, but I was blamed, & labeled as a trouble-maker from that day forward. The taunting/bullying didn't stop until I graduated from high school. But it didn't end there, since abuse has been an unwanted companion until I quit my last job last year at 49. Now I can't seem to get rehired anywhere. My ex-boss has accused me of stealing an all-in-one printer (something I had to purchase out of my own pocket in order to do my job). I never asked for reimbursement as I knew it would never happen. I had already warned him that when I left the printer was going with me too. After all, I owned it free & clear. But since future employers see me as a thief & won't even listen to my side of things, I have no job. So now I am doing some volunteer work for a couple of pet rescues locally, but I really need to earn money to survive.

I have been told I can't possibly have Aspergers (females just don't have it), & also not possible because I can give decent eye contact. So can my oldest daughter, but she's only 21 & has been DXd twice now with AS. When I 1st heard about Aspergers, I started reading more about it. Found it quite intriguing that it involves special interests (I have more than a few), lack of forming/maintaining friendships, sensory issues, anxiety, & other quirks that seem to fit me to a T. So I have a name for what's going on with me, but it's difficult being a 50 year old female to get an official DX. Apparently, I don't really exist as I am. LOL But if it's not AS, there's nothing else that quite mimics all of my symptoms or quirks.

That's my story in a nutshell. Hope you find this to be a haven away from the NTs out there in the real world.

Tomboy

I had an abusive childhood, and was left on my own quite often. I absolutely feel, in hindsight, that my difficult childhood made it easier for me to cope with my Asperger's. I honestly believe it's the reason I'm so 'high-functioning/mild', despite my diagnosis.

For instance, I did fantastically in school...but my mom would have beat me if I did any worse than an A. If left to my own self-motivation, I would have done much poorer. Since I spent so many years absolutely fearing not doing well in school, I've now learned to fear letting myself down.

Hi MrsPotatoHead! Welcome to Wrong Planet! Check out the different forums and articles here. They are interesting and helpful. You are among friends here at WP!

An official diagnosis is not required for membership here. Many of us--myself included--are self diagnosed. We use the rule of duck. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck--it's a duck! Like Tomboy, I am older, and also a little bit of a tomboy. The abuse I suffered came mostly from the other kids. In retrospect I believe that the abuse from my parents was unintentional. Back when I was growing up spectrum disorders were not known as such. We were diagnosed as having emotional/behavior problems, and/or discipline problems. It was mistakenly believed that we could be "fixed" with the right combo of therapy and discipline. And if we weren't fixed, we were blamed for not cooperating with the attempts to fix us. I don't think my parent's meant to be mean to me, but they made it plain that I wasn't normal, and was a disappointment to them. They also gave me a hard time over my Aspie problems. Unfortunately, none of us knew that my problems (spectrum disorders) is neurological in nature, and I really couldn't help being the way I am. So I was an outcast when I left the house for any reason, and an outcast at home. It was terrible to live most of my life that way. Fortunately, I have been living alone for about 6 & 1/2 years now, and don't ever want to live with others again. I am still somewhat of an outcast when I am away from my home, but now home is a haven for me. I think I am better able to handle stress away from home, now that I know I can return here, to a much less stressful environment, and recharge my psych batteries.

I also find this website to be a haven of sorts, too. I hope you like the site. I do!

I guess I really didn't answer your question in my ramblings above. Sorry!

Since Aspergers wasn't recognized in the 60s & beyond when I was young, I misbehaved & was insolent on purpose. My parents were not the type to read anything especially about how to parent a child. They used their hands, fists, loud voices, or anything else to impress upon me that I was being bad. They thought punishment would change me. They were also harshly judged by others due to my behavior too...which only led to more abuse because that's all they understood. Mom dragged me from doctor to shrink & back again looking for a diagnosis, but never got a single one. The older I became the worse things got. It didn't help that my dad probably also has Aspergers (just discovered this recently on my own-he's 84 now). He has his own special interests & stuff too...always has. Anyway, I suppose that AS was both a boon & a hindrance to me. Had it not been for my special interests, my depression would have been so deep I would have been unable to cope with all the abuse & bullying. I turned to Star Trek & the Electric Light Orchestra for comfort. Weird combo, I know, but both the show & Jeff Lynne's music touched me very deeply. Along with my art, my SIs kept me going when all else failed. I had no one to turn to for comfort or love (neither of my parents were the type to offer hugs or any other physical comfort), so I had to make due where I could. We did have a few pets, & they were the only ones who loved me unconditionally. However, if I had been more normal, I probably wouldn't have suffered so greatly either as I would have been able to fit in & keep friends I made. I would have also had some much needed support too.

My life has made a loner out of me. I never have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing & offending anyone if I am alone. WP has also been a huge help, because I am no longer in this boat all by myself! In fact, there is an entire fleet of boats just like mine out there. We might not share the same body of water, but it sure beats being the only one. It helps just knowing like Questor said, that others have had similar experiences in life.

Hello and welcome.

I feel for you. My experiences in school were never as awful as yours, but they were pretty bad and for similar reasons: I didn't know how to read people and a lot of things they did didn't make a lot of sense to me. However, I didn't have to face the same sort of neglect or abuse as you did.

However, I very much sympathize with people misreading and mistrusting you for behaviors they can't even begin to understand. I've had that sort of thing happen to me.

I turned to Star Trek & the Electric Light Orchestra for comfort. Weird combo, I know, but both the show & Jeff Lynne's music touched me very deeply.

That is not a weird combo at all - these are popular staples here. Practically required.

The family was already screwed up with undiagnosed AS, just trying to cope. If they'd had what I needed, I would probably be farther ahead socially, but less advanced in technical ability.

Now that I'm 18, I can look back and say, "During my childhood..."

During my childhood, I just wanted a real male role model. Half of the men in my family are alcoholics, my father included, even when he wasn't drunk he felt more like a cool older cousin than the father I needed. My paternal grandfather was very quiet, didn't talk too much. My maternal grandfather ha(d/s) dementia and was out of it half the time. My great uncle, who may've made a good role model, live(d/s) two hours away.

In my own case, it's more or less both parties.

My household isn't abusive nor intentionally neglecting, just downright clueless among with some factors.
They gave me leniency and a lot of wide allowances, except they just don't know me -- they don't know how to get to me so I drive them away for being clueless.


Some may see it as a form of negligence, but it was me who had explicitly told off everyone that no one will talk about my case -- especially in front of me.
Sure, they do respect the fact that talking about my case is more or less a taboo, but then again -- they are clueless.

One of the reason why I want them out of it because they cannot talk about it without being patronizing or too smothering.
Another is them jumping to conclusions, making the whole thing really awkward.
The other one is unable to balance said smothering from outright condensing words and actions that leans more to abusive territories.
The other one is that I simply hate it if someone had to bother just because of me -- I'd rather have them neglect me by leaving me alone than blame me for 'taking responsibility' of me.


I really want a guide who can and to be able actually understand me, one that can 'convince' me to change -- not a smothering one and definitely not the kind who just beats me up either whether they know things or not.
No one's able to convince me so far, I've yet to truly respect a person -- I can only respect a person out of courtesy or necessity.

So I'm pretty much 'alone' in some sense while underprivileged with one (professional help), privileged with another (front row seats of varying social observations, etc.)

At school, I have mixed up 'places'. Both good and bad. I'm not really a good student -- I've never took school seriously, more like I had a lot of things easy in the academics.
I have no real role models. Never been a fan of anything. At best, I'd be secretly infatuated to a concept or trait of some individual, then it just pass like countless before.


The life I had landed with would've been more or less ideal for varying types of emotionally socially-driven autistic who would love to have a lot of opportunities for gathering social data -- yet I'm not one of them and I'm one ungrateful bastard for that.

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I had a good life, a comfortable one. However, I think people on the outside, usually those in the so-called "helping" professions, set limits on me. If I had been made to do normal, adult things at a much earlier age, I think that, with my learning capability in academic areas, I would have been much closer to normal today. With an AQ score of 28, I'm NT enough and smart enough to learn things. I would have been able to use the degrees I have at a higher level than I presently do. I may also have realized my dreams to be a published author and to travel. With better social understanding, I would have been more successful in the areas of love and dating.

At 55, I can't have many more failures and false starts. Any setback could potentially make me lose everything forever.

I think setting limits on a person's abilities is a form of neglect, one not often talked about. People often talk of child neglect, but few talk about neglecting the adult a child can become.