Weird is a Side Effect

Weird is a Side Effect

Hello again, welcome back! 
 
Before I continue, I would just like to congratulate Cousin Simple on their new song Honeybee that came out last night. Please give it a listen on Spotify. I’m so proud of you guys!

 
On Saturday last week, my dad walked into the kitchen when I was eating breakfast. “I was thinking,” he said, “for your blog, if you want to help people, you should start with your childhood.” I hadn't actually thought of that, but it makes sense. Writing about the struggles of autistic adulthood is important, but it started when I was a kid. Without further ado, let's get started.
The first few years of my life were fairly normal. I did anything that a normal kid did. There were two reasons for the normality in my childhood: 

1) All little kids are weird. Think about it, we all have that story. You know, the story your parents told when you were about ten. It was about something really “cute” you did. Now you're really embarrassed about it because now, you’re ten, and you understand how weird whatever you did was.

2) I’m the first born. My parents didn't have anyone to compare me to except the kids I was friends with, who as I mentioned before, were probably weirdos! The problem is that most kids grow out of being weird. People with autism (usually) don't.
 
By second grade, I had already started to become the odd man out. I still put things in my mouth that I was not supposed to, and I could not learn as fast as everyone else. I hated it when teachers yelled at the class because I felt like I was in trouble. When the class got too loud, and I knew the teacher was going to yell, I would put my head down and cover my ears, and start to shake. While people thought it was kind of weird, I still managed to keep a good amount of friends until about fourth grade.

In fourth grade this kid (who will remain nameless), that I thought was my friend, started to bully me. I can’t remember all of the things that he did, but I do remember that he made me feel like crap all the time. More and more people stopped being my friend, so by sixth grade I felt completely alone. On top of that, I started to fail my classes. My parents, realizing the school was not a good fit for me anymore, decided to send me to another school.
   
The school my parents found was a school called, Haugland Learning Center (H.L.C.). At H.L.C, I spent a lot of my time helping people who were lower functioning then I was. As a result, I had more friends than I knew what to do with. My self esteem skyrocketed, and life was good.

Every year H.L.C put on a talent show. On the chosen weekend, the school would fill up with friends and family, who would watch us kids of all ages perform. In preparation for the show, every student in the school would describe themselves on a paper puzzle piece that would be hung up as decoration (a puzzle piece is the symbol for autism awareness). On its own, this practice would not have been a problem.

While I was doing well academically when I got the eighth grade, the teachers did not think socially I was ready for high school. I had to retake eighth grade two times. By my third 8th grade year, Ryan, one of my younger brothers, was also in eighth grade. That year when the teacher started handing out the puzzle pieces for the talent show, mine started talking to me. “You know you’re broken right?” it asked me, “Don’t you see it? You are only going to be successful here. You're going to be a failure in the real world. Ryan is about go to high school. Your baby brother, is about to prove that he is smarter than you!”

When inanimate objects start “talking” to you, take notice! I was so happy at H.L.C, but when I realized that it was holding me back, I knew I had to move on. Autism through H.L.C. was bullying me. Weird is a side effect of being awesome, don’t let what makes you awesome bully you.

                                                

Thanks for reading! 

Have a greattastic day-

J. Mitchell Ulibarri