Asperger’s came into my life at age 36 when my mini-me, my son, was diagnosed with it. The medical paperwork called it Asperger’s Syndrome (now known as Autism Spectrum Disorder) and after doing extensive research, understanding the symptoms, I knew the undeniable, I had it as well.
For several years I denied it, not only for myself but also for my son. I even made sure my son’s school didn’t receive the diagnosis because I didn’t want my son treated any differently from other children because I knew the world wouldn’t. My wife, who worked in education and is the original one who pointed out that my son and I both had Asperger’s, tried bringing up the conversation several times after the official diagnosis to which I would quickly shut her down. The truth is I thought it would make me less of a person.