You'll probably recall the scenarios from the "Bugs Bunny Show" - the fuzzy little dude - a dog? - following his dreams into ever darker situations while others pursued simpler goals around him.
Never mind. It's all history now. But the underlying disaster always pursues me - how could I have done better given the information I had, and how come I'm not doing better now that I've improved the information I'm working on.
Asperger's is a really crippling - subtle, but crippling - disorder. Undiagnosed asperger's leads each sufferer into life as a hall of mirrors. Eventually, we work out some accommodation with it, and sacrifice our dreams on the altar of what has to be, but the underlying sense of injustice never goes.
At some point, perhaps, we arrive at a diagnosis. Usually it's too late to make any real changes, and so we apply the adaptability that has kept us afloat thus far to the newly redefined problem and go around again. Nothing (expletive deleted) changes.
Yes, I can learn more. I can practice swallowing frustration, desperation, you name it. And always there's a point at which I choke, and spray disaster around me. And wish I was anywhere, anyone, but me. It's really a shit hand to try and play, but then, there aren't a lot of alternatives.
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