If I had different parents, I would be dead or in prison. I look back and see how it would have played out. I felt anger and self-loathing because I’m neurodivergent, and remedial classes held me back. I was big for my age and bigger than my classmates. I had to fight bullies often. I rebelled against God and the Southern Baptist churches that my parents forced me to attend.
I was fortunate. I never went too far over the line, and I straightened up. I’m not perfect. I still have lingering anger, but at sixty-six years old, I’m growing up; at least I hope so. Many neurodivergent individuals are not as fortunate.
I have a problem with impulse control, for one thing. When I was young, in my preteens, a babysitter gave me a cigarette. By my twenties, I was smoking two and a half to three packs a day.
I gave up cigarettes, but I started smoking cigars years later. It took my dad’s dying to get me free of tobacco forever.
The doctors diagnosed “brain damage” and dyslexia when I was young. I had trouble in school, but adulthood was a train wreck. I became homeless in my fifties. I could have landed in prison.
In 2016, 2 out of 5 prisoners in the U.S. prison system, state and federal, had a disability. Twenty-three percent had a cognitive disability. I will be the last person to suggest that it is the fault of the disability. Neurodivergent people can face issues when they lower their guard.
When I was young, I had no self-esteem. I saw myself through the lens that classmates and teachers saw me. If I’m honest with myself, I would admit that I was projecting my lack of self-worth onto the people around me.
I wanted to fit in with anyone who would let me in. Often, it led to questionable decisions and behaviors. One memorable incident was when we were living on an Air Force base in Japan. It was against the law in Japan for Gaijins under the age of eighteen to drive off the base. There was a note on my license in Kanji stating I was under eighteen.
Of course, a lot of teenagers on base violated the rule. Someone talked me into doing it one night. I was with a group of guys. We had a case of beer in the trunk of my car. If caught, I would have lost my license, gone to a Japanese jail, and my dad could have lost a stripe.
Not everything has to do with neurodiversity. I’m responsible for my poor decisions. I’m saying my thought processes are not where they should be. Thinking differently has its good points. I can come up with good ideas that my wife never thought of. I also think slowly. I have to be deliberate.
Lack of self-esteem was one thing; anger is still something I struggle with. I don’t know how I’m supposed to diffuse the anger the way I have. I control it up to a point. I see people who could do better but coast through life.
I have to work hard for everything. I fail more than I succeed, and I see gifted people sailing through life. It’s judgmental and not true. You see how my mind works? I know it’s not true now, at sixty-six years old, but I wasn’t thinking that way in my teens up to my fifties.
The anger and self-loathing are still hard to deal with, but I’m getting better. There was a time when I hated the world and everything in it. I couldn’t understand why I thought and behaved the way I did.
I’m starting to understand. I had a chance to figure it out. A lot of neurodivergent people didn’t figure it out until they found themselves locked up. I don’t judge because it could have been me.
My parents saw my struggles to reach benchmarks as a child. They got me the help I needed. Any failures are on me. Many neurodivergent individuals go undiagnosed until later in life. Some are never diagnosed at all. A lot of them are in prison.
The right thing to do would be to diagnose neurodivergent children when they’re young. Teaching neurodivergent children is one thing. Teaching them how to think and how to control their impulses is another.
I’m neurodivergent. I never thought I would amount to anything. I thought I would be a security guard or a janitor my whole life. When I was young, I attached myself to the wrong people. I was fortunate that I never stepped over the line and allowed the anger to put me in prison.
There are a lot of people in prison who don’t know where the hate comes from or why they lash out. We are responsible for our choices. If we knew why we made those choices, we could work to change our thoughts and behaviors to make better choices.
Final Thought:
“There But for the Grace of God.” That thought went through my mind many times when I was homeless. I met many ex-cons and people who were mentally ill. I also met many people like me who were neurodivergent. A lot of those people were intelligent and talented. This is a waste. As a society, we can do better. Not everyone can be saved or wants to be saved. But we need to help the ones we can save.
Lawson Wallace is a freelance writer who focuses on resumes, cover letters, blog posts, and emails.
lawsonwallacewrites@outlook.com
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