Y2K not happening.
My sleep problems worsening. I had thought at first it was just anxiety about Y2K
My increasing hatred of the human race
My "outbursts" getting more frequent and severe
Getting sick more often with infections
Having to go to the hospital because of a bad throat infection alone because the staff didn't give a crap.
The staff telling my mother how horrible I've been behaving, which shocks my mom.
Getting kicked out of the home.
Being brought to the hospital and left there alone a week before Christmas.
Being diagnosed with Asperger's after the New Year.
Being forced to live in a place for people with severe mental disabilities for a week until my parents finally took me in to stay with them.
Getting bad side effects from whatever new drugs I was put on, such as rashes and fevers.
Being moved into another home, thinking things will be better because of my new diagnosis and the staff being educated about it. As usual, I was wrong.
The other male residents at the home going out getting drunk, being loud and playing heavy metal blasting through my bedroom walls when I tried unsuccessfully to sleep, and the staff using their mental illness as an excuse for their behavior while everything I said or did was just wrong.
Having panic attacks in my sleep that would wake me up feeling like I was having a heart attack.
Being put back in the hospital several more times.
Finally getting out of that place and moving into my new apartment for the first time.
The "lady" at Community Services telling my mother and me it was perfectly fine and normal to sleep on the floor in my new apartment instead of getting a bed because that's what *she* had to do in college.
Not being able to sleep yet again, even with a new bed, and the new neighbors blasting music on a CD that skips constantly during the night.
9/11
Trying to go out and do some shopping only to lose my wallet.
Meeting the drunk, overgrown teenager who played his music all night. He tells me a sob story about breaking up with his girlfriend and refuses to listen to my complaints. The landlady refuses to do anything. And when I go back into my apartment the drunk and his sister start screaming, cursing, and harassing me through my windows. The police do nothing. My parent are too far away to help. I suffer a meltdown and end up having to go back to the hospital. As I leave the drunk and his sister go "nya na nya nya NYAH!" Needless to say, I never went back there again.
After some hellish anxiety-ridden time in the hospital, my parents reluctantly allow me to move back in with them until I can find a new place to live. But they are worried for their own safety and think I'm a danger to others. All my medication was taken away with no explanation while at the hospital, and now I'm having terrible withdrawal. I go for several days with no sleep and during the day I place all around my parents house so much I get cramps, but can't sit still. I can't eat or focus on anything. Finally I get my meds back and gradually start to feel as close as I come to "normal". Which gives me plenty of time to be full of anxiety and dread because of 9/11.
By around Christmas I'm doing pretty well living in my parent's "basement apartment". I've been cooking my own meals, doing my own chores, and basically living almost as if I were on my own.
Found a new apartment on Mother's Day. Move in by summer.
This all happened in about two years at the start of the 21st century.