Asperger's: A child with Asperger's shares their story to better understand this condition

This article is a free expression from the founder of Kid Medical to explain his childhood.

Lil' 15

Feeling, communicating, and perceiving the world is natural for all of us. However, if we examine each of us, our perception may differ from that of others, but it always remains in harmony with the world in which we live.

So why would a colorblind person stand up to a trichromatic person by swearing that this red rose is white?

Simply because he doesn't realize his perception is wrong! And what about the blind person who can identify someone by their scent, even when their vision is impaired? Have you ever tried explaining the difference between red and green to him?

Educating oneself, adapting to the world as perceived by the majority, in order to live in perfect harmony, then becomes a necessity. I have Asperger's syndrome. This condition is known by name, but the full spectrum of symptoms is less understood. Asperger's is a surprising and far more captivating form of it. As my mother says, "Life is too short to have fun sadly!" I hope I'm not taking a risk by asking you this question: "Did you notice it for sure when you spoke to me or read my writing?"

This disease is frightening because of a lack of understanding or preconceived notions. How many times have I heard that we are erudite madmen! Surely from too many people who don't know us!

Even if we can't see you, we can hear you!

I think we don't need to be autistic to be crazy or even erudite. There's only one truth to this day: I look more like a brochure for rare diseases than a typical child! The advantage, if you adopt me into your heart, is that there's no need to search for treatments that don't exist. This will leave us more time to chat, because I'm a chatterbox with those around me. Yet, at four years old, my parents were worried that I only communicated through echolalia.

I guess they didn't realize I enjoyed repeating all the nice things they told me. I won't go into detail about my doctor's visits, which I found tedious and exhausting. A certain aversion to the already seen, already done, already said!

Right now, I have a bit of a soft spot for my doctor, "Jack the Ripper," and I certainly don't intend to overshadow him with anyone else! With him, visits are like the Big Dipper: brilliant like Alioth, yet dark and tinged with purple like Barnard's loop.

I prefer to explain what makes me charming. With all the baggage I carry around, it would have been a shame not to turn it into unique strengths.

As my psychologist so aptly explained, I am like a puppet in a leaky box.

That is to say, I don't recognize a person as you see them. For me, a friend with large feet, I'll recognize them by that feature. Do you understand the principle of this perforated box? For my part, I understand it perfectly and am already looking for a way to open it and return it to him. A second example? I have a friend on a reading forum, who follows me daily, and who, to me, has the same hair color as my stuffed animal on my desk.

Looking at it, I know I have that friend, and just as I adore my teddy bear, I love him just as much. I need to associate the visual with a feeling; otherwise, I can no longer connect the two. I'm fortunate, in my misfortune, to be lucid and addicted to feelings of love and tenderness. This isn't the case for everyone with this same condition. So, I've made a habit of displaying photos of friends or one of their personal belongings in my room to help me remember them and thus continue to develop a social connection with them.

Is this madness?

I don't think so. It's a way for me to adapt by using these strategies against my difference.

My gestures are sometimes amplified depending on the intensity of my moods and the weight I want to give them. This is called "stimming" (stereotypy), or rapid butterfly hand flapping, or "flapping." I control almost all of them perfectly now, except when I'm anxious. People close to me know they should never touch me unless I look them in the eyes. I experience it as a violent attack.

To understand, imagine someone, without seeing or recognizing you, putting their hand on your shoulder. Do you understand that anxiety? Mine is worse. In our family, everything is bigger! As I always say, it's genetic! My friend or my mother, with whom I spend most of my time, know perfectly well how to touch me without making me feel scared. Even my close friends are getting better and better at doing it without making me jump.

When I'm with people I know, you'd be surprised to find that my autistic traits aren't obvious, and are often even absent. You'd see me and wouldn't notice the difference between me and anyone else. But if you approach me too closely as a stranger, a seemingly innocuous gesture, a poorly chosen word, can make all the difference and reveal the person I hide behind this facade. Is it madness? I don't think so. It's a certain tactile hypersensitivity linked to a distorted perception of the world around me.

This is the one you've all been waiting for: "Am I intelligent?"

I'll probably answer you more than some and less than others! To define myself, I'd say I don't need to read a text twice to know it by heart. I love mathematics and logic, and they love me back. I know that one plus one makes two, and that it's pointless hoping for a three. So I'll be content with who I am and what I have. I have a great aptitude for languages, music, astronomy, and for annoying those around me! I love to become passionate about something that amazes me, to the point of spending a lot of time researching it to learn everything. Is that madness? I don't think so. It's a certain natural talent combined with a stubbornness to choose only what should be a priority and what is worth waiting for.

So why is my world not like yours?

I'm trapped in a bubble that protects me from people I don't know or recognize. New places are a source of anxiety, and my only defense is to retreat into this room deep in my mind, the one I created to move among you. I'm fortunate enough to be a far better architect and decorator than my mother. It would have been a shame not to decorate it to my taste. And in that respect, I love excess. From a single room, I created a house, then a village, and finally a world. My universe, my own rules, which only my imagination can restrain.

By constantly improving and expanding it, I sometimes lose myself in it. Every story, every narrative exists here. I live them before sharing them with you through writing. As I told you, my words are my heart… and it lives at the center of my world. So I look through the windows to catch a glimpse of you and come to speak with you. I am leaving my kingdom more and more, and my visits are longer and more frequent. I am learning to breathe around you and with you. Your life is beautiful, and mine has become too abstract and artificial. I am here with you to close this door and never return.

Why Lil'15?

I built this armor when I was 15, and Lil' is an American contraction of "little" because I started with a very small world. It's engraved on the door of my house, and I refuse to have to inscribe another number on it again by myself. I like to imagine doing it on the door of our real house, where all the people I love and who are real live.

Is this madness? Yes, because I am overjoyed every day to join you in your universe which, with the very limited knowledge I have of it, makes it a thrilling adventure.