Lonely: The Reality of an Autistic Childhood

If you think that I had a lovely childhood, I would have to disappoint you sadly.

Yes, I had two loving parents, though now, it seems like I embarressed them more than anything and they have let me know that, now more than ever. I had everything I could ever want, a room of my own, toys to play with and two loving dogs, that kept me company. But there was one thing that I learned very quickly. I was lonely. I didn’t have friends to play with and I wanted them, oh I wanted them .

I would look outside and see my older brother play outside with people, and I would sit and start crying, cause no one would want to play with me.

You’re probably thinking, “Kate, why wouldn’t they play with you?”

To be blunt: I HAVE NO FREAKING CLUE. I guess cause I was seen as a disease, or the fact that I wanted to join in people’s groups, and be part of something. When I was the disposable one, I would reclude to my room, and play with my toys and watch Old movies with my dogs. One of my dogs, Cookie Bear (2008–2019), was my constant support and she would sit with me for hours, to make sure I was ok. Truth was, I wasn’t.

How much I desperatly wanted to be like “the other girls” — that had friends, sleepovers, and parties. I sadly, was not invited to said parties, unless it was “forced”- let me explain.

My Mom tried to get me to make friends, by asking the parents if I could be invited to said parties or sleepovers, and it would usually end up me crying, calling my mom wanting to go home- this being, cause I was left out anyways.

I was not diagnosed with Autism at that point, but I wished I had been, cause it would have made so much more sense with people.

But, sadly, I didn’t have the skills to really have meaningful friendships, without them- disposing of me, and thinking I was a disease. It’s really sad, when I know I’m fun and a good person to be around, but I was never given a chance to show how much fun I could be.

I wanted friends so badly, that I would pick “friends” who were down right awful. I’ll give you a perfect example. In 2018, I had a met this “Friend” — who I won’t name her name, but she had no friends, and I became her friend. I used to drive up to her house and we’d have fun, but in 2019, when I couldn’t drive up to her house for many months and years, she started acting like I had to “pay her” to hang out, literally pay her. I had to pay for her gas, her food (if we went to lunch), practically everything and then in 2020, she told me that I was the horrible one. I was like “You’re shitting me right?” She then proceeds to tell me in 2022, that no one ever really liked me, I was just “tolerated”. That really fucking hurt, because I always feel like that when I’m around people. I never feel like they really want to hang out with me, it’s just a “tolerant” thing to do. It’s hard, being autistic, to the degree of not knowing who is really your friend or who is just using you for what you have or what you can provide. Never included in anything, never invited to parties, unless, again, it was forced by my mother. Sadly, I am not invited to many things now, it’s rare. I’m not mean, and I’m not violent. I just want to part of something. I always felt like there was a double standard for me. Let me explain, if someone in the Old Hollywood Community said something shocking, they could, but when I do it- the reactions I get:

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about!”

“OH MY GOD! YOU SHOULD NOT SAY THAT!”

That kind of thing- but again, there’s always a double standard, and it’s happened all my life.

If I wanted to do something as a kid, I couldn’t do it, but other kids could: like have boyfriends, or experience first love. I couldn’t. No one would ever touch me, or if they wanted to, it was always and I’m sorry to say, the “boys that no one wanted”. It’s so odd, because so many of the guys I wanted to date, the handsome ones, the ones that people liked, apparently, liked girls who weren’t like me- just “boring”.

I wanted to be “out there”- I really did, but being my mother’s “perfect little girl”- I couldn’t.

When my brother had a lot of issues, I was pushed to the side. I was told I had to be the good kid- which meant, make good grades, not get into any trouble, not ask for anything, not complain and of course, not have any issues at school. For months and years, I did my best to abide by those rules. I suffered so much from neglect and affection. My parents had recently informed me, that I would have to take care of my older brother when they are gone, and I knew that- since I was in 10th grade, I knew that was going to happen.

But, as my brother and parents like to turn it on me, how I was the “Burden” in the family. I had to smile through so many tears, and so many feelings, cause I could not express them to anyone. I would scream on the inside, cause I was frustrated. Why wasn’t I given the same amount of love, or the same amount of affection? The only time I had, was when I was in a Play or something, but then my brother would ruin it, and make it about him, so I never got my “joy” or “moment”. My grandparents, especially my late paternal grandpa would give me so much love and attention and when he died, I was on my own. I had no comfort, I had no grieving therapy, no days off from school to mourn, I had to shove it down and pretend like it never happened. That’s how I was taught to “grieve”. Not the best way, I know- and I can’t do that anymore.

It’s hard when people ask me about “who was your childhood best friend” and I don’t have an answer for them, cause I never had one. I can’t remember a lot of “happy” moments in my life, due to my mother always saying I “wasn’t doing enough” or if I had a friend, he/she “weren’t good enough” or “soemthing is wrong with them! Get better friends!” It was never good enough. If I tried to have a friend, it was never good enough for them. What kind of friend did they want me to have?

Sometimes, the people who I thought were my friends, fucked me over.

In 2022, I was going through a rough time. My medications were failing me. I was severely depressed and I was considering of ending it all. It began with a thing called Twitter Spaces, and I wanted to be part of the group, but of course, I was disposed of, and none of them said anything to me. No explaination, no, “Hey I’m sorry”- nothing. I was confused, and above all, hurt, for I would never treat any of them like that. When I asked them about it, or tried to get some explaination, I was told that I was “suffocating them.” Of course, whenever I want to know something or anything, or even defend myself, I was the in the wrong, as I usually am.

When I was upset and had a horrible meltdown, then they wanted to talk. On the 4 way call, they decided to tell me what a horrible person I was, and how erratic I was, and not to mention, suffocating. My husband, who I just married, heard the entire conversation. He was pissed. He grabbed my phone and started yelling at them, and cursing them, saying that I would never treat them the way that were treating me. He told them, “If you were having a hard time, SHE WOULD SHOW UP FOR YOU! She’d take care of you, she’d help you! YOU BETTER BE CAREFUL NEXT TIME YOU TALK TO MY WIFE!” He hung up them, hadn’t heard from them since.

I guess, sometimes, your kindness, is thrown back into your face. My dad said, “Why are you always so nice to people, even if they fuck you over?” My answer? “Because I have no one, and if I’m kind, maybe someone will remember it.” My kindess has been taken for granted and used as a stepping stone to hurt me or to think that I’m some sort of monster.

When I was in the 5th grade, we had to draw what we thought that people thought of us. I drew a monster, because apparently, that’s what I felt like. When I was asked why I drew this, I said, “Why you don’t you ask everyone else?” I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I hate the way that I feel and the way I look. People will say, “Oh Kate — you’re pretty!” But if that was the case, I would have been dating, and having wonderful boyfriends, hot ones at that! But instead, I was stuck with the ones who no one wanted, and it really sucked. The boys who had issues, who had troubles or who had problems and above all, were NOT ATTRACTIVE, and that bothered me a lot. I know looks aren’t everything, but I at least wanted to feel like Peggy Moran, who always had good-looking men on her arm all the time, and yet, I was the one who wasn’t with anyone cute, or someone that wanted to be seen with anyone.

But yet, even that, isolated me. I wanted to see what other people liked and sometimes, I would abadon my own interests for theirs, and it didn’t always work.

My mother would say, “I don’t like who you’re becoming.” But here’s the thing, I didn’t know who I was supposed to be.

When you grew up lonely, you’re trying figure out who you’re meant to be, and I’m still trying to. My mother still puts me down and says, “I don’t like the woman you’re becoming.” I’m trying to be an adult and a good wife. I’m never good enough, for anyone I guess? I have to change to who I am, and it really is sad, that very people, or should I say, people, can’t handle “me”. I am very loving, outgoing and fun! I am very passionate about the things I like and love. I love really big. I do my best to be a good friend and be there for people, because I know what it’s like not to have anyone.

In the 8th grade, I invited some girls over. They never came and they had their own party without me, and I heard about it the next day. I told them I invited them over, and one said, “Why would we wanna come over to a freak’s house? A girl who has dolls and stuffed animals all over her room? Ugh! Get a life!” I had Shirley Temple dolls displayed in my room and I still have them, they’re at my parent’s house, beautifully displayed. I had my stuffed animals, because the only the thing that kept me comfort when I was a kid. When I was young, I used to cry at night, and used to think of the worst stories- about a girl who was left alone in a boarding school, who was always abused and had no one. Sometimes I would think, that was me, only except my hell wasn’t a boarding school, it was my own home. I tried my best to be a good a kid, but every kid makes mistakes. But when you’re in the 10th grade, and your family starts falling apart, and you HAVE TO BE THE GOOD KID, because according to your mother, “There can only be one fuck-up in the family!” I had to make good grades, I had to study hard, I suffered with bad anxiety and depression, but I had to hide it, for I couldn’t bring anything up to my parents. When I tried theater, I was still alone, I was excluded from the cast hangouts and cast parties, etc. I never really felt like I belonged anywhere.

When I entered 11th grade, things started breaking even more for my family. My brother, was having a pyschotic break, and again, I had the pressure of being the “good child”. I couldn’t ask for anything, no help, nothing. I suffered alone. I would try to keep it together, and I did a great job at hiding it. I will admit, I still cuddled with stuffed animals and the occasional doll to soothe myself from my sadness, since I felt like I was pushed to the side. I would speak to my grandpa about it and he made sure that he called often and that he loved me. The loneliness was getting worse, as I was getting older. When you’re in high school, I thought, you were meant to have friends you’d keep for a lifetime, sadly, that didn’t happen. My own mental health was crumbling and yet, I had to hide it, because again, I had to be “the good kid.” No trouble, and no problems. It was a lot of pressure and I couldn’t keep it up.

When I entered my senior year, I fell apart, I cracked, but I had to hide it. I cried constantly and after the death of my grandpa, I was on my own. I had no to help me with my grief and I couldn’t mourn. I was told to shove it down and pretend like life was normal. Again, I was pushed to the side and I was on my own.

I had no friend my senior year. I was alone, sad and above angry. Why wasn’t anyone taking care of me? But of course, to my mother, I was ungrateful. I had everything! Everything I could ever want! Of course, because you tried to fill my void of loneliness. It didn’t always work. I was a senior in high school, who still slept with stuffed animals to help soothe her, from her sadness of being alone. I would lay there at night, hoping that I would stop breathing, but I was always alive and I thought, why would I suffer this way?

When I was finally diagnosed with autism in 2014, the loneliness had a name, and a reason why, but it made me angry, why couldn’t they have told me this when I was younger, like they do with boys? They make so many excuses for boys who have autism, but when it’s a girl, we’re suffering on our own and it sucks. There was no help for me, no resources, no nothing. I was left to think I was a total monster, because I had no one. All I had, were the beautiful movie stars on my TV, and the beautiful Anne Frank to keep me company. As sad as this seems, that was my reality. It sometimes is now, even though I’m very happily married. I’m married to a wonderful man, who isn’t autistic, but he loves me anyways. My in-laws are amazing. But there’s always this side of me, that wishes I could have had better memories of my childhood. They were usually spent, wishing for a friend to call or to come over. Someone to sit with at lunch, or just to talk to. That’s when I turned to writing novels and stories, and talking them out, pretending they were films or TV shows, because that’s what kept me happy, I guess if you could call it happy? I guess it made me wonder why I always dreamt of fame. I always thought that If I were famous, people would take notice of me, and like me and include me. That’s what I thought. I always looked at the Old Hollywood stars together at parties and dreamt that were me, at Premieres and special events.

When I was a kid, I’ll tell this story, I don’t usually tell it. But when I was 13, I had a big audition for some agency, and I can’t remember for the life of me what agency it was. I wanted to be a big movie star when I was kid and I wanted to for this reason: So people would like me or invite me to things. I know, what a stupid reason for fame. I know, again, a stupid reason.

Anyways, I got a callback for this said audition and the agency wanted to sign me and I wanted it more than ever, since I was very uneducated about the industry at the time, and I thought I would be famous within the year, but my mother, took that opportunity from me and she said, “No.” So, I was back to my lonely self: no friends, no life, and my dreams were slowly falling from me.

But I think the hardest lesson I have yet to learn, is what really is a friend and how I do know who is a friend or not? But, we shall see how this works?