essay

Each person has a valid interior life

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How could I be in pain? How dare I ask for help? No one saw me; they took one look and concluded that I had everything. I wasn’t human; I wasn’t allowed to be human. I suffered alone. I had to fight for a diagnosis, alone. Shrinks and doctor’s weren’t much help. They said things like, “I have patients who are really sick.” I suffered and I worked and studied to find answers for myself. And finally, a diagnosis, but no cure for the mean-spirited attacks on ASD individuals by the social-normal “caring industry.” So it’s grit your teeth, use your intelligence, find how to live, and forget about empathy, compassion or even shallow sympathy. Normal people aren’t nearly as nice as they think they are.

If someone tells you they need help, believe them.

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