I am 37 years old and was diagnosed with Asperger's four months ago. It had the effect of breaking me out of a seven year long suicidal depression. The seven year period was dotted with misdiagnoses, periods of hibernation, and constant loss. My diagnosis resulted in an ephiphany and subsequent rebirth. The resulting recovery is peppered with new challenges and a heightened aggression from family. But my reaction at this point is to take these head-on and predict instead of avoid. I am not the same person I was, I am so much more.
Looking back now I see abuse coming from all sides. I see ignorance stunting my growth. I followed the assessment of those around me that "for a smart kid you're not that bright". I adhered to the mantra of "BS Baffles Brains" so my best way through life was to lie and decieve to hide my implied stupidity. After the diagnoses and many subsequent tests I find that I am well above average in intellect and have a creative side untapped for decades.
The following is a story I wrote the day after recovery. All days before I was never able to write more than a sentence about myself. This reflects the power in knowing your own mind and thus being in control.
The Horse and the Rider - Joe Petrone
My mind is the horse and I am the rider.
We were a professional racing team. This was our first race and the odds were in our favor. The horse was a true champion, bred to run with a will for racing that was unmatched.
When the starting gate opened the horse took off at high speed early on, I lost control and fell off. The horse didn't notice me and kept running at full speed. I couldn't be separated from this horse so I ended up in an awkward position.
I got my left foot caught on the stir-up on the way down. So the horse dragged me. I made attempts to get back on but was stuck and couldn't reach the reins. I tried to reach my foot to free myself but this only wore me out. I tried shouting commands at the horse but nothing worked. I didn't know the horse's name and so I couldn't even get his attention.
After a while I just accepted my situation and focused on the race. I thought I could still finish it. The only thing I could do was dodge obstacles and hope the horse got us to the finish line. I just accepted my situation and got used to being dragged around the track.
Yes, I still thought I could finish the race this way. He was the horse and I was the rider and we were meant to race around this track. That was our purpose. It's what he was bred for and I was trained to do. Everyone else was finishing the race. Then again they were all actually on top of their horses.
Then things got worse. The horse veered off and left the track entirely. We were disqualified. The prospect of not being able to finish the race devastated me. I was a failure. Worse than that I embarrassed myself. I was a rider who couldn't control his own horse. This was a promising thoroughbred with excessive speed and ability, but I couldn't handle it and I even allowed it to take off and get completely lost.
But the current problem was that the horse blew through the arena and out into the wilderness on its own and now I had no idea where we were going. I don't think he did either. All he wanted to do was run fast.
Over many years I have been dragged around everywhere. Through the woods with brambles and tree trunks, the desert where I smashed into dunes, rocks, and cactus. We crossed rivers and mountains. I was beat up badly and there were times when it almost killed me.
I gave up on trying to get out of this alone. I screamed for help. Other riders tried to stop us. They called out names to me and I tried each one. Nothing worked. He just kept on running, seemingly on his own, with no real direction. He trampled me, I hit more rocks, the hard ground sliced into my back. I was exhausted, bruised, and bleeding.
Then one day my luck changed. It was immediate, dramatic, empowering, and overpowering. An epiphany. A sudden and complete understanding that seemed to come out of nowhere. Some call it luck, others call it fate. For me it was an inevitable outcome as I was resigned to, this, or death.
It started as a typical day, we happened to be running along the beach. It was soft and sandy so I was in about as good a shape as I could be given the situation. I wasn't expecting anything to change that day. Then as we ran past a group of riders one of them shouted another name to me, a new name. And this time it made sense.
I called out his name with authority and this surprised him. He skidded to a halt on the soft wet sand and reared up violently, forcing himself to stop. He just stood there, breathing heavily, staring out into the distance.
I freed my foot, shook out the sand, and stretched a little. I walked up to him calmly, took a hold of the reins, and looked at his face. He turned his head around and looked me directly in the eyes and for the first time he noticed that I was there.
I spoke to him calmly and he understood me. I let him know that I am his rider and told him my name. I told him that I know who he is now, his name tells me everything. I let him know that I'm not afraid of riding him and I still want to ride but he has to listen to me carefully now, what I have to say is important.
He cocked his head up, turned his left ear towards me, and looked at me from the side. He was listening...
I told him that I'm injured but I'm not angry and I mean him no harm. I told him that I'm not hurt that badly and I can still ride. That I'm a good person and I care about him. I told him that now I understand him better than anyone else and that gives me respect for him.
I reasoned with him that the race isn't important anymore so we don’t have to go back. It just goes around in circles and that's pretty much it anyway. Actually, it isn't even important where we end up at all when we ride now. The journey is the thing. That's our true purpose.
I told him that I was going to take control now. I promised that I won't steer him wrong and that I know what I am doing. He turned his head away, tensed up a little, and positioned himself so I could mount. I took that as a "yes".
He was standing still for a little too long during this exchange and began to flex and fidget. He was eager to start riding again and excited about this new situation. The prospect of having a rider. Not having to go around a race track forever in circles. Going to new places. He wasn't dragging this dead weight anymore so he could ride even faster now.
I climbed back on, put both feet in the stirrups, shifted a little, he made a few false starts so I pulled his head back. I tightened the reins. I pointed him in the opposite direction from where we were headed. He marched upright in a proud manner like a show horse as he turned playfully. When I had him facing where I wanted us to go I squeezed his sides with my feet, leaned forward, and we took off along the shoreline.
He asked me where we were going and I said that I didn't know, but it really didn't matter right now. The wind felt great and there was a sea breeze. I was already happy with where we were now and was looking forward to seeing what’s at the end of the beach, for now.
So now we ride together. We post in time with a rhythm like dancers across the long expanse. I'm sitting high up and I'm in control instead of dragging on the ground. I can see farther in all directions. The view is incredible.
I have no fear of the horse or our surroundings. I'm healing up quickly. Instead of dreading the next gauntlet of rocks, I'm looking forward to the places we can go.
And the great part is we both can get anywhere really fast if we want to.
After all, he's a race horse.
Last edited by TheHorseandtheRider on 05 Nov 2011, 9:10 pm, edited 3 times in total.
03 Nov 2011, 10:55 pm
