Dragons and Red Rover

It was that same feeling. I recognized it much like a friend. Cloying fear wrapped me in the morning sun. I chased it through halls of memory, finding it's place. Until I turned 5, my life had been home, a room of my own, a backyard secured by a tall wood fence and barbed wire on top and a closet. It was what I knew of the world. Suddenly things were changing without explanation. No one thought to explain to me what school was, it's purpose. I didn't understand and fear swallowed me whole. I was drug, kicking and screaming to a mysterious building. People probably stared. I didn't notice them. I was chastised in hushed angry whispers, I didn't hear. There was only fear. I threw my legs and arms open wide. I became an X, a puzzle to be forcibly folded through each door. This is how I greeted my first day of kindergarten. They didn't make me go in. Not at first. They situated a chair in front of the door in the hall. This became my spot. I looked in at a world of small creatures. I didn't understand what children were or that I too was a child. I had never seen one until that day.

I was told I could sit in the hall as long as I pleased. But, that I would soon want to join in. People were confident of that fact. The idea is that I would see what fun the others were having and I would go in willingly. It might have worked on another child. But, not me. I watched for a while disinterested. My mind wandered. I mentally re-traced the car ride in my head. It didn't seem far. I could walk it, I thought. I gathered my things and began to leave. After all, I saw no purpose in my being there. No one had bothered to explain that this predicament wasn't voluntary. The principal stopped me as I was heading out the door. Talked me into watching just a bit longer. He was tall and intimidating. I agreed and plotted. I was watched now. I eventually read a book. I could read already, something the frightened my grandmother as no one taught me. I simply figured it out. She saw it as a mark that I was a child of the devil. Devil or not I was bored, so I read and I drew.

Recess had me sitting on the sidelines. I had only played by myself. I was clueless how to interact with other children. It didn't occur to me that I should even want to. What were those things anyways? The teacher tried to include me in games with the class. I most remember, Red Rover. I was to run through the arms of those alien creatures. I told her it was pointless, we were accomplishing nothing. I had a cat to finish drawing. She was adamant. I tried to compromise, I did the running but refused to break through. I simply stopped and stared defiantly. I was prodded to continue, I refused and was met with a sigh. More games. Eventually, the teacher stopped trying.

After weeks, of sitting out in the hall in a chair I was forced through that last door this time biting and drawing blood of many. It took several people to do it. My family, teaching staff. They held me down until I was exhausted. They broke me like a horse and I joined the ranks of small creatures, defeated. I longed for my hall chair. I liked it out there. My pleas were ignored. My sanctuary was no more. I faded at the loss of it. The defiant child, became the child that never talks. My next teacher would worry incessantly about my quietness and every teacher that cared thereafter.

There's a part of me that will always be sitting in the hall watching humanity, happy to be distant and separate. The other part grows weary of the fear.

Before, my diagnosis of Asperger's, I was told as a child I was shy and that I would "outgrow it." I clung to that idea. As I aged, the consensus watched with disappointed eyes, assigned me many dance partners. A waltz with depression, and then manic depression. Schizophrenia made a bow and asked for dance card. Countless suitors wooed me, before the hammer fell and I was wed to Asperger's. The names hardly matter, in the end, my brain has always been stalked by fear.

And I know there are reasons, beyond Asperger's. I attempted Jury Duty recently and I scrawled my emotions hastily afterwards. Peeks of reason woven in my outpouring that G+ would not let me post.

"So Jury Duty lasted 2 minutes. I was very sick this morning, nauseous, diarrhea and chest pain. As soon as the door was opened to the court house I got extremely dizzy. I was in tears by the time I got to the right place. They sent me home, swiftly. :) Court rooms trigger something in me, I guess. Somethings come bubbling up whether you want them to or not. I've had to go to court twice (once for Jury duty another time because my car was stolen) and each time that feeling of being a little girl terrified of her uncle comes up. The second the doors open this suffocating fear washes over me. Memories of my grandmother swearing my uncle was a "good christian man." Trial after trial, sitting out in the car drawing while my grandmother ran to court. That feeling of hope that this time, the death penalty might save me or that they would keep him for good. I could maybe just be happy locked in the closet my grandmother locked me in when I was bad, or locked in my room when I was good. Never worrying the door would open and it would be him, with a knife, or to preach to me about God and in the same breath tell me about how he would take me on a date if only "I would lose some weight." And then there was that sinking feeling of dread knowing they were letting him out early for good behavior and he would be back again. I wanted to save some little girl from that. Do the thing no one had the balls to do for me, put someone away for life. And some kid could be happy. But, I failed her and it hurts knowing that. It makes no sense. I shake and live all this out in my head. It's so long ago and yet it crashes through my mind like a hurricane, taking over. I fled undercover of night from my family. I threw what I could in the car and left before he could get out of jail the last time, before anyone could wake. I haven't been back and I never will. Not that they want me back anyways, all but my mom has disowned me. It's safe for me to be thin, to be beautiful, but when I walk into a courthouse I'm back. Why can't it just be social anxiety, just Asperger's why does there have to be so much? Will I be like this when I'm old? Does everything have to be a fight? I'm in a better world now. The lady was nice to me. She saw my fear, my shaking and let me go. No one yelled at me. Or told me I was worthless like my family did. I will wake tomorrow and there will be a birthday party and cake. And if my boss has her way it is probably shaped like a cock. Will there ever be a day where I can just be confident? I'm so tired of this. I want to be able to do things and not throw up. Not be sick. Why can't I?"

I know shifts have been made. Even just showing up yesterday, was a feat. I heavily considered jail, community service and fines rather than jury duty. All the options seemed preferable. But, I walked in a vertigo haze though the door. I hope with each step it will get easier. The little girl in the hall has found things in this world she is finally interested in. She wants to try. But, red rover is not for her. She fights dragons instead.