There are attentions, concerns and an endless number of activities that are carried out with Asperger children, all aimed at making him adapt to the world around him, none that seeks the opposite, since he is the intruder because he has different conditions.
After the job is done and the adult child achieves what society wants, this citizen must juggle to be like the chameleon, to go unnoticed so as not to be segregated, taking into account that in his childhood he has already been labeled.
Many do not make it, since deep wounds torment them, others live the deja vu of procreating children with the same condition and there is a return to childhood that, depending on the availability and stability, will cause less suffering in their descendants.
However, he is no longer the center of attention, there is no follow-up and the "oddities" of his behavior are attributed to bad experiences or to the very convenient stress of living in an anthropophagous society that devours the weakest.
When this man reaches old age, his vanishing path comes to an end, no one talks about an elderly Asperger's man or the challenges he has had to overcome, let alone how difficult it is for him to continue to fit in, since he has invested his life in being who he really is not.
Their differences are baptized as ailments and anything that is not understood becomes senile dementia, no longer to be adapted but to be ignored.
Has anyone heard of any care for an Asperger's grandparent?
Differences have no place unless they are sponsored and publicized by the big corporations that manage the world's psyche through their powerful media, and someone who doesn't fit into that is annoying.
As a holder of that condition and at my 65 years of age, I can dissert about what has changed and remained and for that I propose to write a book.
I am still different, I am getting further and further away from that achieved adaptation, maybe because the years stop adding up at a certain age and start subtracting, first you add up the ones you have, then you subtract the ones you still have to die.
The modern media achieve that bridge to keep me in contact with different people, among them those who read me, and I have many anecdotes about that, since socially I am not so explicit and I don't like gatherings of people. I am antisocial in the good sense of the word, I am stunned by crowds and it is not that I am agoraphobic.
Pandemic confinement has proved the perfect state for many autistics, including me, who, much to my dismay, find it hard to hug, be outgoingly affectionate, handle the hypocrisy of not being direct and practice lying as the first commandment.
Internally I am still the odd child who adapted to survive but does not live in a world that is perfect for his natural way of being, but I know there are many grandparents, some contemporary with me, who failed to create multiple personalities as a shield and are now looked upon with pity because their differences are follies.