03-05-2007, 11:32 PM
My childhood was utterly miserable. Maybe you've got a good point, though, and I should be happy that I was never diagnosed with AS. Everyone knew there was something "wrong" with me but no one had a name for it. That might have made life more difficult for me, because people expected me to be capable of behaving normally, but it also might have been a boon; I wasn't often treated like a special needs or mentally *** child, and I was presented with all the same challenges and opportunities as other children.
When I became an adult I finally visited a psychiatrist of my own volition. He diagnosed me as manic-depressive. He even prescribed Lithium for me. I told him I was sure he was wrong, and I refused to fill the prescription, but he never did change his mind. That seems silly to me.
When I became an adult I finally visited a psychiatrist of my own volition. He diagnosed me as manic-depressive. He even prescribed Lithium for me. I told him I was sure he was wrong, and I refused to fill the prescription, but he never did change his mind. That seems silly to me.