On Appreciating Where I Came From

A coworker posted a quote today about appreciating your existence. I think it was meant to be funny, but it reminded me of something (sorry if you've heard this one already):

It's a miracle I am who I am.

My mother tried to nurse me when I was born. No one realized until 6 days later that her milk never came in. She found me in my crib, bright yellow with bloodshot eyes, and screamed bloody murder. I was given a complete exchange transfusion to reverse the jaundice, but no one knew for sure what the extent of the damage would be, or the effect malnutrition would have on my brain. The doctors listed off all kinds of different possibilities. 'Mental retardation' was their worst fear (pardon the term, this was the late 1980s) While they did turn out to be correct to an extent about my brain developing differently, I don't believe that's how I ended up with Autism. I did end up defying a LOT of odds though, and significantly exceeded expectations:

*I read at a 6th grade level in Kindergarten

*I was a straight A student for a bit

*I've been able to accurately spell most words inside my head for people on demand since I was 9

*I took college level classes in high school

*I forgot to bring a calculator to my ACT, and still scored well in Math

*I told the principal the Ohio Graduation test was too easy and he told me to keep my voice down

*I got into my first choice (private) university

*I excelled in choir

*I've been told I'm easier to understand when I sing in Italian or Latin than I am when I speak English.

-On a side note: I also happen to have what's known as a single transverse palmar crease on my left hand, which is commonly found in people with various disabilities-

I may come across as ungrateful at times, but that pretty much happens when I'm trying to move forward or grow, and something is holding me in place. I don't like being held back. I don't like being told I lack discipline. I HATE being micromanaged and put under a microscope. I am at a point in my life where I look back and see that my life was hardly ever my own. Any time I wanted to do something my way, someone came along and pulled me into the way they thought it should be done. I am free now. I don't have to put a mask on and be agreeable and minimize myself and my wants and my needs because someone 'more capable' thinks I need them to do it for me so I don't screw it up. Some may call it a mid-life crisis. I call it finally not feeling the need to live up to anyone's expectations, because anyone I ever looked up to passed away or I outgrew the admiration.

I wish I could hug Little Me at so many different points growing up. I still hope someday to either foster or mentor.