Age and the practicality of seeking an assessment/diagnosis

Others have responded and have covered all that I would say. I have just been diagnosed and I am 67. It explains a lot. Why I always felt different, square peg in round whole. I have pretended to like the parties, the surprise, the chance meetings that are my worst nightmare. It helps me to know that there is a explanation. My challenge now is who to tell and how. Also I plan on removing myself from situations which I know are most uncomfortable. I will not escape them all but I will save myself where possible from the acute anxiety that these situations cause. I regret so much that this was not picked up earlier but back then when I was young nobody knew about autism. 

Yesterday I was really thinking I was schizophrenic and starring in the movies 'psycho/fight club'...

I had to make a tough choice. My wife and children (13/15) wanted to go and see the fireworks display. I usually stayed home, but with some weird thoughts in my brain, decided to go along... As you will read here, I'm now a hypochondriac that read on doctor google that 30% of all autists have epileptic seisures, so decided that that was also my faith. Now I had some moments before where I felt a bit 'off' after working out... 

My mind has to swallow now that my mother (80) had an epileptic seisure in our family living room. I had a talk with her half an hour before it happened. She suddenly proclaimed that this is where she would like to spend the rest of her life. She would be very quiet and we didn't have to feed her that much... I took this very serious, I consider it an honor (still do), Out of four children, I'm the one who 'turned out normal'. I was the third child. My father committed suicide when I was nine. He hung himself on my older sister's birthday. He came home from the mental institution, found a rope on the staircase, and decided to use it to hang himself. I still have nightmares how he 'could have been singing, 'hey Lidia, happy birthday to you...', or more empatic, how he would have regretted and wanting to undo his decision. I hated him, he punched my mother in the face a while before, I wished him dead, Can a nine-year old autistic boy come up with a plan to plant a rope on the staircase? I wasn't even aware he was away and we had no idea he would come home (escape) that day. I'm afraid now tomorrow I'll go back to that house and find some clues. 

The day after, I was in school (it happened in the evening, why did they send me to school? probably needed to clean the house, but why did we not have a friend that could keep me company?) The principal took me out of the classroom. Helped my tie my shoelaces, and told me what happened. I stayed the whole day at school. They seem to have forgotten to tell me to go home... Or did they want to keep me there, so the house could be properly cleaned? my mother doesn't have a proper answer until now, she thinks they were also a bit shaken and just forgot to tell me I could now go home... Or they told me, but after 'dead', the rest was just bla bla to me...

I remember my dad saying 'my left fist puts you in the hospital, my right fist on the graveyard'... I let this sink in (8 years old) and ran back in the house and shouted 'your left one puts you in the mental institution, and the right one in prison'... A brave little fighter, was I not? with words... He wasn't really threatening me in person, just proclaiming it to the world in general. My grandfather (His father) didn't like him one little bit. Further about my father... Once he left me in the station of Brussels and policemen had to take care of me. The only point of interest around that station is the red light district... He was then found and having a nervous breakdown and had to be taken to an asylum. I think my mother was scared a lot about him hurting me...We went rather often (I recall 4 times) on the ferryboat from Ostend to Dover. He seemed to like that a lot.  Imagine as a mother how it must be if your husband and son leave for the weekend without knowing when you would be back or where you went. There's a lot more. My life is an endless string of bizar and stupid situations, strange decisions. The silver lining of it all is that I always took opportunities that were given. My brother luckily advised me to become an Agricultural engineering (a lifesaver). He studied to work in social psychology. Big mistake, without proper working empathy that is not an option. Don't use a screwdriver to hammer in nails! I digress. I'll gladly tell more... I'm rather afraid that I'm actually schizophrenic... that my nine year old self killed my father with the wish of him never to lay hands on my mother again'... psycho (the movie) stuff. This could not have happened. Also, my mother had no way of knowing he would come home on that day... And the act was his decision... he did an attempt to do it before... he showed a social worker while I was standing next to him... I remember something... probably him about my mom... but I'm not sure...  if you tell her she's a cow, she'll eat grass and you can milk her.  He had no friends, when he married my mother, he used her savings to buy a motorcycle. 

Yesterday I was really thinking I was schizophrenic and starring in the movies 'psycho/fight club'...

I had to make a tough choice. My wife and children (13/15) wanted to go and see the fireworks display. I usually stayed home, but with some weird thoughts in my brain, decided to go along... As you will read here, I'm now a hypochondriac that read on doctor google that 30% of all autists have epileptic seisures, so decided that that was also my faith. Now I had some moments before where I felt a bit 'off' after working out... 

My mind has to swallow now that my mother (80) had an epileptic seisure in our family living room. I had a talk with her half an hour before it happened. She suddenly proclaimed that this is where she would like to spend the rest of her life. She would be very quiet and we didn't have to feed her that much... I took this very serious, I consider it an honor (still do), Out of four children, I'm the one who 'turned out normal'. I was the third child. My father committed suicide when I was nine. He hung himself on my older sister's birthday. He came home from the mental institution, found a rope on the staircase, and decided to use it to hang himself. I still have nightmares how he 'could have been singing, 'hey Lidia, happy birthday to you...', or more empatic, how he would have regretted and wanting to undo his decision. I hated him, he punched my mother in the face a while before, I wished him dead, Can a nine-year old autistic boy come up with a plan to plant a rope on the staircase? I wasn't even aware he was away and we had no idea he would come home (escape) that day. I'm afraid now tomorrow I'll go back to that house and find some clues. 

The day after, I was in school (it happened in the evening, why did they send me to school? probably needed to clean the house, but why did we not have a friend that could keep me company?) The principal took me out of the classroom. Helped my tie my shoelaces, and told me what happened. I stayed the whole day at school. They seem to have forgotten to tell me to go home... Or did they want to keep me there, so the house could be properly cleaned? my mother doesn't have a proper answer until now, she thinks they were also a bit shaken and just forgot to tell me I could now go home... Or they told me, but after 'dead', the rest was just bla bla to me...

I remember my dad saying 'my left fist puts you in the hospital, my right fist on the graveyard'... I let this sink in (8 years old) and ran back in the house and shouted 'your left one puts you in the mental institution, and the right one in prison'... A brave little fighter, was I not? with words... He wasn't really threatening me in person, just proclaiming it to the world in general. My grandfather (His father) didn't like him one little bit. Further about my father... Once he left me in the station of Brussels and policemen had to take care of me. The only point of interest around that station is the red light district... He was then found and having a nervous breakdown and had to be taken to an asylum. I think my mother was scared a lot about him hurting me...We went rather often (I recall 4 times) on the ferryboat from Ostend to Dover. He seemed to like that a lot.  Imagine as a mother how it must be if your husband and son leave for the weekend without knowing when you would be back or where you went. There's a lot more. My life is an endless string of bizar and stupid situations, strange decisions. The silver lining of it all is that I always took opportunities that were given. My brother luckily advised me to become an Agricultural engineering (a lifesaver). He studied to work in social psychology. Big mistake, without proper working empathy that is not an option. Don't use a screwdriver to hammer in nails! I digress. I'll gladly tell more... I'm rather afraid that I'm actually schizophrenic... that my nine year old self killed my father with the wish of him never to lay hands on my mother again'... psycho (the movie) stuff. This could not have happened. Also, my mother had no way of knowing he would come home on that day... And the act was his decision... he did an attempt to do it before... he showed a social worker while I was standing next to him... I remember something... probably him about my mom... but I'm not sure...  if you tell her she's a cow, she'll eat grass and you can milk her.  He had no friends, when he married my mother, he used her savings to buy a motorcycle.