It all came too late for me

I think there'll be a fair few in the same boat and it's certainly affected several members of my own family.  There was no help in the 70s and we suffered a lot because of this.  Well, no help unless you count being prescribed valium in capsules large enough to fell a bear or, if the situation worsened, hospitalisation, although with next to no knowledge about autism, it's likely that this would have been under other diagnoses (possibly when someone became so distressed that anxiety and depression excalated to crisis point and they then seemed to the criteria for a number of other psychiatric diagnoses).  So I have the feeling that, without the core diagnosis and autism-friendly care, hospitalisation probably wouldn't have helped many either.    

I find it all quite tragic and a number of my family members who were affected are no longer with us.  I can only say that, for them at least, keeping away from services as they were was the most helpful thing that could have happened, even though life remained far from perfect. Also that their lives were far from worthless - they were lovely, caring, gentle people, in fact - and, although opportunities were lost, there were still some good times, especially in the longer run and into old age.  

I'm afraid I can't be more positive about it all.  It may be that I was traumatised as a result of the things that happened within our family.  But I really want to emphasise that it's not your fault and it in no way reflects on you or your worth.  It's really hard, I know, to look back and reflect and realise that, if we'd been born a few decades later, things might have looked very different.  But still, I'm all for taking small pleasures where we can and feeling relieved that things are improving, however gradually.  It's still not enough and my sons, now in their later 20s, still believe that it's all too little, too late.  In spite of that, and the significant problems we still face, I remain determined to do and enjoy what we can in whatever time we have.  I feel a bit "Frankl" about it, in that his book "Man's search for meaning" refers to a kind of "tragic optimism", but for now this is where we are.              

I think there'll be a fair few in the same boat and it's certainly affected several members of my own family.  There was no help in the 70s and we suffered a lot because of this.  Well, no help unless you count being prescribed valium in capsules large enough to fell a bear or, if the situation worsened, hospitalisation, although with next to no knowledge about autism, it's likely that this would have been under other diagnoses (possibly when someone became so distressed that anxiety and depression excalated to crisis point and they then seemed to the criteria for a number of other psychiatric diagnoses).  So I have the feeling that, without the core diagnosis and autism-friendly care, hospitalisation probably wouldn't have helped many either.    

I find it all quite tragic and a number of my family members who were affected are no longer with us.  I can only say that, for them at least, keeping away from services as they were was the most helpful thing that could have happened, even though life remained far from perfect. Also that their lives were far from worthless - they were lovely, caring, gentle people, in fact - and, although opportunities were lost, there were still some good times, especially in the longer run and into old age.  

I'm afraid I can't be more positive about it all.  It may be that I was traumatised as a result of the things that happened within our family.  But I really want to emphasise that it's not your fault and it in no way reflects on you or your worth.  It's really hard, I know, to look back and reflect and realise that, if we'd been born a few decades later, things might have looked very different.  But still, I'm all for taking small pleasures where we can and feeling relieved that things are improving, however gradually.  It's still not enough and my sons, now in their later 20s, still believe that it's all too little, too late.  In spite of that, and the significant problems we still face, I remain determined to do and enjoy what we can in whatever time we have.  I feel a bit "Frankl" about it, in that his book "Man's search for meaning" refers to a kind of "tragic optimism", but for now this is where we are.              

At the time of my 1st psych admission I was Felsted for what should've been the term I took A levels.I'd overdosed at the end of the previous term, but foolishly decided to go back  so as not to disappoint my parents. I lasted a week before spending a few days  in the school sanatorium  and then being transferred to a large psych hospital. I went in with a rose tinted view of psychiatrists , which was shattered very quickly.

After a week I was told I was going to help make dolls' houses as part of the treatment. I have very poor constructional ability and indeed wasn't even in a fit state of mind to do anything well. I had a big panic attack, and was pulled from the path of a hospital bus. I then had to see a doctor who instead of doing the intelligent thing , which would've been to find out why I'd reacted as I did, decided to adopt a stern 'You're an awkward and troublesome teenager' approach.

With that my rose tinted view of psychiatrists was completely shattered. To them I was an awkward and troublesome teenager, because it no doubt was written in my psych notes that I was. Over the next 42 years the situation got worse and worse. It was not helped by my becoming friendly with an older woman they disapproved of , and leaving hospital with her in March 1983.  She died due to health complications in 2005. In 2003 she'd been dxed with vascular dementia.

In September 2017 I moved to be near my stepdaughter.I had not been doing well in Essex. In October 2018 I had my 1st psych appointment here in Wiltshire . The pdoc was polite and asked a string of questions. My s/daughter who was with me mentioned autism. The  pdoc ,unlike my previous mental health team  in Essex, didn't dodge the subject but asked pertinent and sensible questions.At the end he said the best fits dx wise were schizophrenia and ASD. 2 weeks later I got a letter saying that I'd been referred to be assessed which would start in February 2019. In May 2019,at the age of 62, I was given the dx of Asperger's syndrome.

Jenny I love what you’ve written here. I think we have to live with a certain amount of regret and grief but also to do our best to move forward with all the optimism we can muster. I haven’t heard of the book you mention here - it looks amazing and I’m going to get a copy. Thanks again x