I’m going to continue the “A Letter to My Younger Self” series that I started over the summer. This time I will write a letter to my 18 year old self. A person who decided he was going to follow dreams that have unfortunately left me in serious financial trouble. I won’t exactly shatter this poor kid’s dream, I just need to warn him that there are better ways he could go about the decision he will make down the road.
For the longest time I’ve tried to find a song that describes my life in a nutshell. I’ve found a few that have come close but none of them really hit the nail on the head until now. I was listening through the albums of Garbage, a band from my favorite year of music (90s baby!!!!!!!!!) when I stumbled upon a song from their most recent album that felt as if it were written for me and all the other outcasts of society. As I listened through the song I suddenly felt a strong connection with the lyrics, especially during the second verse. In a nutshell the song is about being different from the rest of society and how different is always better. Now I’m not going to break down the entire song word for word but I will choose some sections of the song and explain the significance of the said section in my life.
Now before you read this essay I’m about to put on here I ask that you don’t judge me for the harsh nature of this essay. I admit I was being extremely hard on myself and others when I wrote this two years ago but you should know that the pain of being alone is very real. This essay came about two years ago as the product of one of my sleepless nights. I was in college and had had it with failing to woo a woman so one night when the thoughts of dying alone started running through my head I decided to write about my struggles in hopes that one day people could know my pain. You should also know that a lot happened between now and when I wrote this essay so those who know me well will know that some of what is in there isn’t very applicable now but It will be none the less a wacky trip through my head. I present to you my shattered heart on a silver platter.
Anyone with an intellectual disability knows the struggle of trying to blend in to society. Lets face it, as much as you want to be yourself you know that some of your habits and rituals and even obsessions don’t belong in public for the sake of keeping friends and acquaintances. Now while there are high functioning people that are fully aware of what’s socially acceptable and what’s not, there are those who don’t not do they even try to correct their quirks. Whether no one pointed out their quirks or if they just flat out don’t give a shit is beyond me. The reason I bring this up is because though connecting with neurotypicals (a big ass word meaning those not on the spectrum) can be a challenge, connecting with those on the spectrum can be even trickier. I bet ya everyone is completely flabbergasted and wondering why such a thing can be do difficult. Allow me to go back to the snowflake analogy for the umpteenth time, people on the spectrum are like snow flakes, everyone on the spectrum is different. Now we’re not even just talking about differences in function, we’re talking differences in rituals, interests, and personalities. Those who have worked with people on the spectrum know very well how radically different the personalities can be due to the complex wiring which 90% of the time can look like the back of our entertainment centers. It looks like a jungle to others and only you know how it works and where everything works and that’s all that matters. This difference in personality can make it very tricky for me to be friends with those on the spectrum cause when we have a clash of opinions it happens in the worse way possible, you’d think a blood bath was about to ensue with the way we were arguing. Now there’s another obstacle that makes connections difficult for me but in order for you guys to understand I’ll have to go back to the early years of my life in order to explain an issue that every person with a high functioning form of a learning disability has had to deal with.
The title of this blog post sounds exactly how you might be comprehending it. You’re probably wondering how someone could have such a profound attachment to an object. It isn’t necessarily the object that we attach ourselves to but rather the memories and good times associated with the said objects. For some it’s a teddy bear, for others maybe a blanket. What ever the objects you cling to it for the nostalgia and remember the happy times. Now you’re probably wondering what all this nostalgia crap possibly has to do with the seemingly long and somewhat confusing blog title. The answer to your question lies in my childhood, dark and confusing times that felt at times like they’d never end.
We’re all put here by what ever force you want to believe in to do something. If anyone told you that you’re one in billions, that your life against the life of others doesn’t hold some sort of merit then someone lied. For some of us we know from day one what our purpose in this world is but for the rest of us, it can take some serious soul searching and years before we realize what we’re meant to do and some unfortunately leave this moral coil before even realizing what their purpose is.