Each of my newborn babies loved and looked to me with unconditional love and trust something I was determined they’d never have to feel the pain of losing or paying a price for. Being a mother was a silent conversation between us I found fluency in. The first time anything came naturally to me, was when I had kids of my own. Without realizing, I’d drawn a line between them and me, building walls. They were normal to me because they didn’t have those things against them. Could they see that I was hiding terrible secrets while pretending I had the luxury of growing up in a family that didn’t hurt each other with their friends who didn’t touch inappropriately? Could they see my effort to seem normal? I know they did. I was always trying to pick apart and understand the minds of my peers, why they did things they did, and how they saw me. A life where love was freely given was my idea of success where I could be accepted and loved for who I awkwardly was. There were a lot of factors against me and my perception of love and acceptance, failure and success. I thought I was different and awkward and screwed up because of my home life. Sometimes, I nailed it most times the latter was true. Putting those pieces together was like manic panic, a race to put the same picture together as the rest of the class so that I didn’t humiliate myself when, and if, she called on me.

We all knew the teacher was likely to call on someone at some point.

While that was happening, my mind was hard at work on the cluttered mass of puzzle pieces someone dumped on my desk. School was a place with teachers supplying the material and the means for how most students went about solving a problem or structuring a sentence, blah, blah, blah. I only knew I was different, and quickly realized that in order to mask the struggle, I’d have to figure out what worked for me. Heck, I didn’t even find out until a few years ago (I’m in my 30s now). When you have Asperger’s Syndrome you can be brilliantly smart, yet also have a very hard time learning. I can’t tell you how many times that thought went through my head when I was sitting at the back of a classroom as a kid, and even now when I’m “adulting”.

Hostile Takeover by Lynessa Layne