Asperger's: testimony of an Asperger's child to better understand this pathology

This article is a free expression by the founder of Kid Medical to explain his childhood. Lil' 15 Feeling, communicating and perceiving the world comes naturally to all of us. But if we take a closer look at each of us, our perceptions may be different from those of others, but they are always in harmony with the world in which we live. So why would a colour-blind person stand up to a tri-chromate person and swear that this red rose is white? Quite simply because they don't know that their perception is wrong! What about the blind person who can see the person in the field of vision that he or she is missing. Have you ever tried to explain the difference between a red and a green?Education, adapting to the world experienced by the majority, in order to live in perfect harmony, then becomes a necessity. I have Asperger's autism. It's a condition that everyone knows by name, without knowing the full spectrum of symptoms. Asperger's is a surprising and much more captivating form of it. As my mother says, "Life's too short to have sad fun". I hope I'm not taking a risk by asking you this question: "Did you notice it for sure when you talked to me or read me?" This disease is frightening because of its lack of knowledge and preconceived ideas. How many times have I heard it said that we are mad scientists! Probably by too many people who don't know us!Even if we don't look at you, we hear you! I don't think we have to be autistic to be mad or even learned. There's only one truth so far, and that's that I look more like a leaflet for orphan diseases than a normal child! The advantage, if you adopt me into your heart, is that there's no need to look for treatments that don't exist. That leaves us more time to chat, because I'm a chatterbox with those around me. At the age of 4, my parents were worried that I only spoke in echolalia.I guess they didn't understand that I liked repeating all the nice things they said to me. I won't go into all the details of my experience with doctors, which I find wearisome and tiresome. A certain rejection of déjà-vu, déjà-dait, déjà-said! At the moment, I've got a soft spot for my 'Jack the Ripper' doctor and I'm determined not to overshadow him for another! With him, visits are like the Big Dipper. Shiny like Alioth and dark and purple like Barnard's Loop. I'd rather explain to you what makes me so charming. With all the baggage I've been carrying around, it would have been a shame not to use it to my advantage.As my psychologist cleverly explained to us, I'm like a puppet in a perforated box. In other words, I can't distinguish a person as you see them. For me, a friend with big feet will be recognisable by that feature. Have you understood the principle of this perforated box? I do, and I'm already looking for a way to open it and give it back. A second example? I have a friend on a reading forum who follows me on a daily basis and who, for me, has the same hair colour as my teddy bear on my desk.When I look at it, I know that I have this friend and as I adore my bear, I have just as much love for him. I need to associate the visual with a feeling, otherwise I can't make the connection between the two. In my misfortune I'm lucky enough to be lucid and addicted to feelings of love and tenderness. That's not the case for everyone with the same illness. So I've got into the habit of displaying photos of friends or one of their personal objects in my bedroom to help me remember them and continue to develop a social bond with them. Is that crazy? I don't think so. It's a way of adapting by using these stratagems against my difference. My gestures are sometimes amplified according to the intensity of my moods and the weight I wish to attribute to them. We call this 'stimming' (stereotypy), or the rapid flapping of my hands like butterflies. I have almost complete control over them now, except when I'm anxious. People close to me know never to touch me if I don't look them in the eye. It feels like a violent attack. To understand this, imagine that someone, without seeing or recognising them, puts their hand on your shoulder. Can you understand the anguish? Mine are worse. With us, 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 me feeling frightened. I even have close friends who are getting better and better at doing it without making me jump out of fear. When I'm with the people around me, you'd be surprised to find that my autistic disorder is not so obvious and is often even absent. You wouldn't notice the difference with another person. But if you approach me as a stranger too closely, a harmless gesture, a poorly chosen word can make all the difference and reveal the person I hide behind this face. Is that madness? I don't think so. It's a certain tactile hypersensitivity linked to a poor perception of the world around me. You've all been waiting for this one: "Am I intelligent? I'm sure I'll answer more than some and less than others! To define myself, I'd say that I don't need to read a text twice to know it by heart. I love maths and logic, and I'm very grateful for it. I know that one and one make two and that there's no point in hoping for three. So I'll make do with what I have and what I am. I have a great facility for languages, music, astronomy and annoying those around me! I love being passionate about something that amazes me, to the point of spending a lot of time researching it to find out everything I can. Is that madness? I don't think it is. It's a certain ease mixed with stubbornness in choosing only what should be a priority and what's worth waiting for. So why isn't my world like yours? I'm locked in a bubble that protects me from people I don't know or recognise. New places are a source of anxiety and my only defence is to lock myself in this room in the back of my head that I've created to move among you. I have the good fortune to be a much 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. I turned one room into a house, then a village, and finally a world. My world, my laws, which only my imagination can curb.In the process of improving and expanding it, I sometimes lose my way. Every story and every narrative exists here. I live them before writing them down for you. As I said, my words are my heart ... and it lives at the centre of the world that is mine. So I look through the windows to catch a glimpse of you and come and talk to you. I'm leaving my kingdom more and more, and my visits are longer and more frequent. I'm learning to breathe around you and with you. Your life is beautiful and mine has become too abstract and artificial. I'm here with you to close this door and never go back.Why Lil'15? I built this armour when I was 15 and Lil' is an American contraction of little because I started out in a very small universe. It's engraved on the door of my house and I refuse to have to write another number on it alone. I like to imagine doing it on the door of our real house, where all the people I love live and who are real.Is this madness? Yes, because I'm overjoyed every day to be able to join you in your world, which, with the very limited knowledge I have of it, makes for a thrilling adventure.