Slightly To The Left







I have always lived slightly to the left of others and I never understood why. 

I was born in December of 1985. My sister was only 18 months older than me, but we were very close.

My older sister became my voice when I was a toddler and refused to talk. I was a late walker as well, but for the same reason: I really had nothing to say, and no desire to move around. I was content in calm and silence. 

And I was happy.

I did all the things other kids do; birthday parties, roller skating, bike riding, and spending the summer in the backyard swimming pool. But in every activity, every event, and every setting, I was always slightly to the left; standing on the outside and looking in. In my own world.


I knew I was different, but I blamed it on being a “bad girl” and I spent my whole childhood hiding my self-hatred. I only had a couple of short-lived friendships though most of my childhood was spent tagging along with my sister, who was very popular in school. I followed her everywhere. She always let me tag along and she was really my only friend. But I was very, very, lonely. 


The world never understood me. I was “too shy” and given tasks, like calling to order pizza, to help me “practice”. My terrible hand writing was addressed with tutoring (spoiler alert: it was not successful) and I was placed in different groups during school to help me. Some of the special classes focused on self esteem while others focused on the fact that I was managing to nearly fail my way out of the 5th grade.

I was chronically deeply depressed and hiding in plain sight.

I went to the office with a “stomach ache” so frequently that they started to just turn me away. I didn’t know why I didn’t feel well, so I would sometimes make up a reason to explain myself, like a claim of throwing up or a headache. I needed to rest and sleep and that only happens when you are “actually sick”. So I sometimes told stories about my health and beat myself up over it, not realizing that I was trying to explain how I was feeling in an understandable way, to both my 7-year-old self, and a society that didn’t quite believe in mental health yet.

I remember sitting in the living room around 8 years old and watching the television. I was so angry and jealous of the people on tv who were so happy and full of life. Television in the evening was especially triggering to me because I knew that bedtime followed. And that was the worst part of the day for me.

My childhood was spent doing things. I rarely had friends so I would spend my time being busy in my own way. I decorated and lined up my dolls for hours, I collected rocks for no real reason. I would become completely immersed in something I was writing or researching or building and have little contact with the outside world.

By 12, I was a full time knowledge hoarder and regularly going down information rabbit holes thanks to a few CD-rom Encyclopedia computer programs and the very early days of internet searching. Psychology, religion & cultures, Pre-Historic human history (Neolithic-Paleolithic era), and vocabulary words. Asking Jeeves was my window to the world. 

I spent the majority of my teen years on the computer. Often, I was manic and zoned out on a special interest for hours or days at a time.

I have memories of sitting at the computer in the wee hours of the morning, and then bolting to my room and pretending I had been sleeping all night, when my parents morning alarm went off. 

I wrote poems, songs, stories, and more. But destroyed it all when I was overcome with the other side of creative mania; devastating depression. 


I was also regularly a pain in the ass and left a trail of destruction in my path. I organized several protests, headed the underground school newspaper, found loopholes in the attendance policy and gave zero effort if I could get away with it. My peers were preparing for college and I was just slightly to the left; not quite participating but going through the motions just the same.

I had no friends, just acquaintances in between classes. I was very popular, however, and I always found myself slightly to the left of the popular kids. I was nominated for Prom Queen one year though I was just really focused on not having to pay the entrance fee of the dance. I made sure to tell everyone that I had saved $60 by switching to participating in the social hierarchies of my peers. The crown meant nothing to me. 


By my senior year, I was regularly ditching school so I could spend my time working on my projects or sleeping. I had over 60 school truancies and barely graduated from High School. I didn’t believe I would graduate until my feet hit the stage. 

My childhood and teen years were riddled with Bipolar and I was glaringly autistic. I was hidden though... always slightly to the left. Going through the motions of childhood gave the impression that I was developing just fine, but I was anything but “fine”.

Thankfully, my childhood is now over and I am 35 years old. I have come so far since then and looking back on it all, the signs were obvious but I *seemed* fine, so I never got help. And I didn’t tell anyone simply because no one ever asked.

Being Autistic and Bipolar was just not thought of back then, especially for a little girl that seemed to be participating in life at first glance. I learned to mask and be “a good girl”, because I so desperately wanted to fit in and belong. 



I am happy to be who I am today and it has been a long road. But I am finally realizing that it’s okay to be slightly to the left; many people are. It’s okay to be different. It’s okay to be me.


Love,

Duckie May - Mad Hatter and The Maker of The Things






Comments

  1. DominikMarch 6, 2021 at 1:40 PM

    you look so much more... *you* now than you ever did before

    ReplyDelete

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