Welcome to A.S.S.G.O

Tortured Soul is a book that I've been writing. I'm planning to get it published as soon as possible. Although finacially I can't afford it at the moment. It's an autobiography about my life. It goes from growing up differently to my school days to finally finding out I had Aspergers Syndrome at 16 years old.

After that it goes on to the next chapter of my life. It starts with my college days and then when I moved to residenital college. It featues the bad times caused by my problems and some good times too. It takes readers through the court case that I went through. Finally it goes up until the present day when I moved to brookdale.

Here's one of the chapters from my book:

Chapter Seven – Blossom to Falling Wilted Leafs

 

Eventually I finally got to residential college after Easter 2006. I had started mid year which meant I had no choice but to do the European Driving License Course (computer course). I did that at the IT Learning Centre at the local college to the house that I was resident in. I also had a course to finish that I started after being expelled from college. I started IT Skills Level 2 course online that was provided by Vision2Learn. The I.T technician at the learning centre on the main site used to help me on bits that I didn’t understand. I got to know all the people in my house and found myself out ever night. The first house I was in called Ashley Grove where we used to go down the pub regularly. It’s where I first learnt to play pool as the boys from next door taught me. I admit that I couldn’t play it very well though. I couldn’t hold the cue properly and my aim was very awful. I used to drive myself down there when I went back after closed weekends.

 

I got to know the head of care shortly after I had started there. She was a tall, blond, slim and sweet faced woman. She had a lovely smile that filled up her whole face. I honestly don’t know how she managed to smile all the time. I remember being very shy with her at first but after a while I spoke a little bit more. I think that my perfect friend would be someone like her. They set up meetings with the head of care and gave me a communications book. The initiative seemed to work for the first part of my time there. I had to meet with the head of care twice a week. My communication book was for things that I wanted to say but found that I couldn’t. Unfortunately my past caught up with me after a short time of me being there. I had told the crazy red headed tutor and the lecturer from my other college that I’d been sexually abused by my Dad. It had only been to try and get them back into my life. I wanted acceptance by them in some way even if it was just because they felt sorry for me. The child protection team caught up with me having read the email that I sent them. I decided that I was just going to go with the flow as I didn’t want people from the residential college to get suspicious. I don’t know why I kept on with the lie but at the time I thought it was for the best. I felt so guilty for lying but I couldn’t do much else. A psychiatrist saw me after that but I wouldn’t speak about it. She asked me questions that I refused to answer. She seemed to have the impression that I thought I was ‘special’ because of my gift. I decided that I would intentionally not co operate and say weird things. When people think I’m mentally messed up I like to play with them. It is mainly because that is the only way that they don’t get past my safety zone. At one point I got pushed into trying the counsellor which didn’t suit me at all. After two sessions I decided that it wasn’t for me.

 

On May Day 2006 I went to the X factor auditions in Birmingham. I wore black jeans with a face pattern on, a skirt dress and white jacket. I got my hair as straight as it would physically go without breaking. I didn’t apply much make up because I didn’t want to over do it. My nephew came with me on the train from Coventry. The auditions were at the NEC (National Exhibition Centre). I was down for the 12pm slot along with a thousand odd others. There was a huge queue waiting to go through registration to collect their number. While we were waiting to go into the holding area they were choosing people to entertain everyone with their audition pieces. There was a guy who even played his guitar for everyone. We then got put into messy wiggly lines. They went through the lines with the camera making us shout “we’ve got the x factor”. As always there is one who is on a different planet from everyone else. One guy got it totally wrong as when it got to him he started doing his Elvis song. He seemed like one of those Elvis impersonators. A lot of people started sniggering at him because they thought that it was funny. We then got filed into the holding area where we were split into groups A, B or C. While we were waiting to be called the camera and presenters went round asking people to do their audition pieces for them. There was a very funny group doing their act for charity. The women looked in their mid 40s. They didn’t look like the type of people who would go on a program like The X Factor. They were dressed in pink with a message on the back saying “lock up your husbands its atomic mutton”. They sang ‘don’t cha’ by the pussy cat dolls. They made up their own dance routine which was hilarious. I ended up one of the last people to go into the audition room which made me more nervous. I got approached to be interviewed and sing my audition piece on camera. I only agreed to be interviewed as I didn’t feel confident enough to sing in front of all those people. The judges weren’t Sharon, Louie and Simon. Apparently all the judges were from record industries. I sung ‘be my baby’ by the Ronettes. They decided they didn’t want to send me to the next stage. I was disappointed but not totally devastated. Afterwards I felt that the song wasn’t right for my voice because it made me go squeaky.

 

A few months after I’d started the residential college they had their own version of Eurovision. They called theirs Farleigh vision which didn’t sound as good. I never thought that I would have the confidence actually sing in front of people who I had just met. I sang the song Beautiful Stranger by Madonna. I wore a low cut red dress and cute little pink sandals which I think made the boys look at me. I wasn’t sure about the dress because I felt like I wasn’t wearing much. I think the head of care enjoyed the event even though she had to go before it finished. She sat in the front row which made me even more nervous. I didn’t want her to think that I sounded awful. I got called sexy by one of the boys who were organising it. At that point I can honestly say that it was the most wonderful time I’ve ever had in my life.

 

Then we broke up for the summer holidays which is when I started to find things very hard. I began emailing the head of care quite a lot which was bad enough without the other things that I ended up doing. I text messaged one of my friends pressuring her into ringing the head of care. There was no reason for me to be in contact with the head of care at that time. I just wanted to annoy her for some reason that I still don’t know today. I went to the doctors which was when I got put on the pill for my mood swings. That made me even worse to the point that the head of care ended up ringing my parents. I broke down crying on the phone to the head of care because my emotions were so disturbed while I was on the pill. When I went on holiday to Yorkshire I started an argument with another friend from college via text message. I ended up calling her a retard in anger. The head of care rang us on Dad’s phone while we were on holiday. I had sent her a very bitchy email which she wasn’t very happy about. She knew about me calling this other girl a retard. She had to pass the situation onto the principal.

 

I thought I would enjoy being at the main residential house after the summer holidays but I found it horrible. As it was the main house all the important people came to see the management of the college all the time. The rules seemed much stricter because of that reason. It was like being on display to everyone who visited the college. I didn’t feel that I could ever be myself especially during the daytime with the management about.

 

A few weeks before we were due to go back I had to go down to the college to draw up a contract with the principal. It stated that I couldn’t ring, text or email staff. I was a tiny bit annoyed that the head of care couldn’t attend because of illness. It seemed convenient as I knew she was there the day before the meeting. I did get very upset with her because it was a let down. I had to go to art therapy on the agreement but I never knew that till weeks after that. It turned out that the art therapist was off for weeks anyway so that was a waste of time.

 

At first the main house was very irritating as there was no hot running water in my bedroom and no power in the plug sockets. The wardrobe was dangerous as one of the knobs had fallen off which left a nail sticking out of the wood. The water and power was like that for at least the first week I was there. The wardrobe remained that way until my placement was cruelly terminated. I had an en suite in my room which was better than sharing with the boys. I had to have a wash down in freezing cold water while the hot water didn’t work. After the other girl arrived a week later it finally got fixed. The worse thing that I didn’t like was the wasps getting into my en suite. I blamed the head of care the first time as she left the window open. She never thought to warn me that they had a wasp problem at that side of the building. I found two in there that morning which I wasn’t at all pleased about as I’m scared of them.

I found the media course that I enrolled on too slow to keep me interested. There was a few of us that went to Bath College so we used to go in one of the people carriers. It posed a problem when everyone finished at different times. Sometimes I caught the buses back to Frome when there was no transport going back at the time I finished. I had a support worker with me most of the time in my lessons. I didn’t particularly need to have one but there was another boy from my college who used to use the support worker as well.

 

The main house was predominately populated by boys. There were only two girl’s bedrooms. I found the boys very irritating a lot of the time. They started things that I ended up with me getting into trouble. It made me hate being attractive because they never treated me right. I didn’t feel like they saw me as an intelligent person. I felt that being attractive was a curse while I was living in that house. I didn’t like getting the blame for trouble between the boys as I was just being nice to them; it was as innocent as that. When I got smacked on the head with a football in the garden I was happy to have my head stroked by various boys; it made me feel much better. I had control over the boys as they hung at my ever word. I didn’t like to use that control though because they should learn to use their own brains. I might as well have done though as I got the blame for leading the boys on by the staff. Sometimes I literally had to run to get away from the boys so that I could get a bit of time to myself. I used to find that my underwear was going missing after I left it to dry in the first floor kitchen. Obviously I never mentioned it to any of the staff as its kind of embarrassing telling people that your underwear is going missing isn’t it? I even got given roses at one point but I never settled for the boy who splashed out on those. I settled for another boy who was very different from the rest of them. He was a day student who was at the main house a few evenings a week. He was only 16 but was much more intelligent than me in computers. He was the first boy that I had ever liked in a boyfriend way. I am glad that I developed feelings for boys because at one point in my life I was beginning to dread the fact that I could be a lesbian. It is such a wonderful feeling falling in love for the first time. I used to think that it was a load of rubbish when people spoke about how it felt to be in love. It felt too real to be true because it was the first time that I had ever been in love.

 

I ended up breaking my contract within a few weeks of starting back after the summer holidays. I felt so lonely in the main house that I just couldn’t help it. That is when I had to meet the head of care and the principal where they decided to send me home every weekend. The college had a closed weekend every two weeks where everyone went home anyway. I used to go home on the bus or the train every Friday evening. I found it very unsettling when I went home every weekend as I felt unwanted by them. I was excellently behaved for two weeks before the half term but then I had an awful dream. It tipped me into the pattern of my behaviour that they didn’t like again.

The dream was about the head of care that I used to go meet with once a week at this point. In the dream she was ill but kept pretending to everyone that she was alright. Then everything went black which is when I saw the worse part of it. She was in a hospital bed and didn’t look like her normal self at all. The spark that made her personality had disappeared. Her face was very pale and her character seemed to have gone. She was connected to machines which made her basically seem like a vegetable. I saw lots of cards on the windowsill. They ranged from Birthday to Get Well cards. There was a Thomas the Tank Engine balloon that stood out among all the cards.

 

When I woke up the next morning I was very shook up over it. I went to college as I only had half a day and thought it would be better if I tried to concentrate on something else. When I got back to the main house that afternoon she wasn’t there. I got very worried as I was going up to my room on the third floor. I wasn’t very well as I had terrible period pains so I went for a lie down. I then felt the temptation to ring her to find out if something bad had happened to her. I rang her once but couldn’t speak. I text messaged her once I had heard her say hello down the phone. I told her that my periods were really getting to me. I couldn’t tell her the real reason that I had rang her as it sounded too abnormal. When I finally did see her in the main house that day I didn’t know what to think as my dream had really got to me. I tried to distract myself by doing some work in the learning centre and hanging around with the boys. It was no use though because by the end of the evening I was a complete wreck. I was on the computer when I totally broke to pieces. I text messaged the head of care saying that I felt like hurting her. That wasn’t strictly true but I couldn’t tell her the truth it was too weird. When she came downstairs to take my phone from me I was in a right state emotionally. I was climbing up the door that lead into the back garden, not knowing whether to stay or run away. I got even more screwed up when she spoke to me while she was asking me to put my phone in the office. I text messaged her from the internet after saying “If I had a knife in my hand you wouldn’t have been that brave”. It wasn’t supposed to sound as threatening as it ended up looking in writing. It was me trying to warn her about the dream I had without actually telling her about it. The principal happened to be there still so the head of care fetched him. Then they took me into the principal’s office to speak to me. I really couldn’t tell them the proper reason. I told them that I had just flipped for some reason that night. That evening the night and some of the day staff came to have a meeting. When I saw the happy smiles around her it was just making it ten times worse. I tried telling myself that sometimes dreams were just meant to scare us but didn’t mean anything.

 

It got to me so much that eventually I walked out. I told the head of care that I was walking out because I couldn’t cope anymore. I never cared that it was late and quite cold at that point. Eventually they came to find me after I had walked to the local ASDA store. I was glad they found me but didn’t want to go back as I knew that I wouldn’t sleep at all that night. I had a cup of tea when I got back and then played Jenga for a bit. When I finally went to bed I fell asleep with my clothes on as I was emotionally shattered.

 

The next day I woke up feeling very unwell. I didn’t go to college as I couldn’t see straight let alone think straight. I went downstairs to give the head of care a hand written note explaining things. She told me to sit down in the chair next to her office’s desk. I sat there looking around while she was reading the note that I’d given her. I saw photos of her on her office wall where she looked so happy. She looked like she had everything to live for. She said something that showed that she understood me in a way. She said that she thought that I text her because she wasn’t at work that day. If she ever found out the real reason I knew that she would be upset. I got sent home because they thought that I hadn’t been to college for three days. I know that I kept having time off of the mainstream college because of feeling ill but I couldn’t help that.

Before I went home she came and sat next to me. She asked me what was wrong; I just said that I had been crying earlier, which I had been.

 

When I got home I didn’t know whether to cry or anything. I just felt numb like I didn’t know what to do or what to say to people. The next day I was on the internet as usual on msn messenger. Then a girl from college came on while she was in their learning centre. She was winding me up and made me tell her about the text messages. She made me tell her what was in the text messages. Then she showed a member of staff that was sitting next to her. The staff member didn’t see the whole conversation. They only pasted the bit to the head of care that incriminated me. The information that she copied made it sound like I was planning to hurt the head of care. I realised a few minutes after I’d typed all of it that I may have dropped myself into trouble. I knew that it would have been misconstrued but was hoping that I wouldn’t get into trouble. That night the head of care rang my parents telling them that I couldn’t come back on Monday. It was prior arranged that I would come back Monday straight from mainstream college in the evening. I’m not sure of the details but they had to have some kind of meeting before I went back to college.

 

Meanwhile, I got in touch with the priory hospitals asking for their help so that I could stay at the college where I was truly happy.  I briefly explained the reasons why I was contacting them. We got a phone call from the principal a few days later. Somehow they had heard about me having contacted the hospitals. It was at that point that a meeting with my social worker, the college and the priory hospital was planned. I asked my Mum whether I could speak to the principal while he was on the phone the next time he rang that week. He told me that the priory hospital said that I needed things putting in place before I could go back to that college. The principal then rang at the end of that week saying that they’d had to inform the police as they were advised to. Two days after the principal had rung the police came round and arrested me at barely 9am on a Sunday morning. I nearly lost my computer and mobile phone at that point. I felt that I was tricked because the policewoman said that she had come round for an old incident. She told me that she’d come round about me sending an envelope with a hundred pounds to the crazy red headed tutor. After she had got me into the police car she arrested me for the harassment of the head of care as well. I was interviewed about both incidents, and then I got bailed. I was told that I couldn’t make contact with anybody from the college until the case had been concluded.

 

After half term, I heard that the meeting was going to be held back because of the social workers manager not being able to attend. Apparently the social workers manager wasn’t able to attend because it was her ‘day off’. I don’t think that it was fair considering the outcome that resulted in the meeting when it did come off. I was so upset that I had to wait that I automatically dialled the head of cares number. I couldn’t take much more of the delaying. I was in too much of a state to care about what I did. I was totally sick of being messed about by various professionals all through my life. The principal rang up a few days later with the head of care sitting next to him. They said that they might have still been able to help me. That week I was having a moan on my blog not caring who saw it.

 

The meeting was the next week. I woke up shaking because I was so nervous about the outcome of that meeting. I knew that they would decide something that I wouldn’t like. I never imagined that it was going to be as awful as it turned out. I was on edge before the meeting but after it I just broke down. My parents and I walked into the meeting thinking that it was going to be a positive outcome. There was my social worker, her manager, the local policewoman and the two staff from my college (the principal and the head of care). I walked in to the room all smiles thinking that everything would be sorted. I looked at the head of cares face and I knew that something was wrong. We were handed a report made by the residential college. The principal told us that because my behaviour had escalated they couldn’t keep me any longer there and my placement had ended. They said that they had known for a few days before the meeting. It was so cruel the way the meeting was held. They started off with that news and then the local policewoman demotes me to the lowest of society by saying that I’m going to get charged with the two outstanding harassment charges from the college in Nuneaton and the bomb hoax. I was also told that I couldn’t contact the head of care at the residential college that I was forced to leave. I was so hurt that I let loose on them all. I argued my point and when they wouldn’t listen and talked to me like I was a little naughty child I just shouted louder. All my social worker was bothered about was me making too much noise for other people who were being seen to next door. My whole life had just crashed down on my head because of a problem that I couldn’t help. None of the professionals in that room believed that I couldn’t help the way I was. The two from my residential college did because they wouldn’t have tried so hard if they didn’t believe that. My social worker never helped matters by telling people that I could help what I do. She always accused me of making excuses. I only started compulsory lying about things originally to hide my social problems and everything else. I keep myself locked away from other people. I am ashamed of things I want to hide from people. That is why lying was the only way to cover my insecurities and problems. That day I went home with tears down my face and cried for hours. I eventually rang the head of care after my crying had subsided. I told her that I was sorry for everything that had happened and then started crying again. I told her that I’d really miss her. She had given me confidence that I never knew I had in me. I was upset as I hung up because I knew I’d be made to stop talking to her very soon. I was petrified because my future was so uncertain which is why it was pretty hard to let her go.

 

The day after that meeting I ended up having to go to the doctors because I couldn’t stop crying. I was feeling totally broken and felt like a part of me had been cut out. Maybe that is what people call depression but I don’t like to admit that I’ve suffered from it. I got put on anti depressants but they didn’t work for a long while. They made me feel sick when I was getting used to them. My parents came with me and asked about getting me referred for a second opinion. It was just to prove the point that I can’t help what I do. I didn’t do much for a few days as because until the anti depressants built up I hardly could even get out of bed.

 

A few weeks later I got referred to a doctor in Leicester to get a second opinion as to whether I had something more than Aspergers Syndrome. Before the appointment I got charged with the first three offences. I rang the head of care quite a lot because I wasn’t coping at all well at that time. I can’t count the times I thought about topping myself by taking overdoses because I wanted to talk to her and no one would let me. Once when the principal picked up the phone and told me that I couldn’t talk to her I tried to seriously top myself. I automatically went to the cupboard because I was too emotionally screwed up. I ended up taking the last eight paracetemol that was in the packet. That was when I didn’t care what happened to me next. I rang the head of cares mobile phone. Then I left a message for the principal and head of care saying bye and that I’d rather die than go on without being able to talk to the head of care. I don’t know if they ever got the message because I was in such a state that I probably didn’t wait for the voicemail to come on. I wasn’t going to tell anyone that I’d taken an overdose. I eventually told my Dad when we were on the way to Hobby Craft in Coventry. We ended up going down A&E and stayed there for hours while they waited for the paracetemol to ware off. Then they took my blood which meant we had to wait hours for the results to come back. Even after the results had come back I had to wait to see a psychiatrist before I could go home. They threatened to call the police if I left without seeing him. When I saw the psychiatrist I told him what had been going on. He was happy with the explanation that I gave him so he let me go. Two days after that I had to go and see a doctor in Leicester to be assessed. He agreed that I had Aspergers Syndrome but thought that I had something else as well. He decided that he had to consult somebody else.

 

A few days later, the police came having already gone to Somerset to get the evidence about the harassment allegations.  They arrested me and took me down to Beaumont police station in Leicester. They told me that my parents couldn’t be the appropriate adult as I’d implicated them. My social worker ended up being the ‘appropriate’ adult. She was the most inappropriate person that could have possibly been at the police station with me. I didn’t feel like I had any support at all from the social worker even though she was paid to be on my side. She was very unhelpful because she kept putting pressure on me. She gave the impression that I could help what I had done to everyone. They put me in a cell until the solicitor and social worker arrived. Then they interviewed me where I found it very painful to talk about what happened in Somerset. I got quite confused and tried to just give them a plausible answer when I couldn’t remember details. I was suffering from some kind of mental trauma of loosing my faith in people all together. I felt that everyone was out to trick me and do me harm. I got stressed out so badly that I said that I couldn’t live without being able to talk to the head of care. I said that if I was forced then I would commit suicide. I wasn’t seriously going to commit suicide because deep inside there is a spark within me that refuses to let me give up. Sometimes emotions can make people say things that they don’t mean. It just showed that deep down inside I was suffering very much. They were close to keeping me in over night so that they could send me in one of the vans to magistrate’s court in Hinckley the next day. First of all, they made me wait to see a nurse in a freezing cold, dark, bland cell. They gave me jam on toast which I didn’t like at all. They also gave me a newspaper to read. After I had read the newspaper I got claustrophobic and went into a blind panic. I rang their bell repeatedly. I ripped letters out of the newspaper to spell ‘help I need to get out of here’. I started sliding it under the cell door when one of the officers came to ask me what I wanted. I told him that I couldn’t stand it in the cell any longer. He told me that the police officers dealing with the case had gone out to do something else.

 

I kept seeing something that I call Emily. She is like a personal spirit guide. As usual she was being nasty to me. She was taking this opportunity to tease me for all the things she’d caused me to do by staying around me. I had never seen her before until I was in that cell where she appeared in front of me several times. I got so distressed by this experience that I started to rip out letters of the headlines in the newspaper. I spelt out ‘Help me Emily is killing me’. I then pasted the message on the wall by smearing using the jam as glue. Then the letters could stick to the wall. I later took the word killing out because I didn’t want the police to think that I believed in that kind of thing. I eventually got taken to see the nurse. She asked me a few questions about whether I took medication and whether I had any allergies. Then I got put back in the cell again. At this point I got very distressed. I started ripping up the newspaper and paper plate. I stuck the cold pieces of toast to the wall. I was trying to make a rope out of the newspaper strands rolled up so that I could at least make a dignified exit from this world. I didn’t finish it as a policewoman came in and took everything away from me. A male officer came in with her and told me that they wouldn’t be charging me that night but I would be bailed to reappear at the station a few days later.

After they had gone I was left on my own once more. I was getting beyond distressed at this point. I started screaming my head off, crying and rocking. Eventually it was my turn to see the doctor. He asked me basically the same questions as the nurse had asked. He also took my blood pressure which I knew at the time would be at least slightly high because of the ordeal that I was going through. I told the doctor that I couldn’t stand a minute longer in that cell. He told me that he would try to get me released as quickly as possible. Unfortunately I still had to go back in the cell while he sorted it out.

About an hour later I’d made a bed in the cell for myself and was lying down with a cover over me. An officer came and opened the cell door to say that I had to go to be bailed. I put my shoes; jacket and coat back on then walked to the custody desk.  I didn’t agree with the bail conditions because it was taking the only person away from me that truly did help me. All because of a stupid social misunderstanding that the college shouldn’t have taken it as far as the police. The people who advised the people I trusted didn’t know me very well. They probably hadn’t even met me personally. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I’d had a very emotional and stressful day which was making my head feel like a balloon that wanted to burst. I was given a lift home by one of the police officers. He was also dropping off another girl in Burbage too. I was very nervous as it was past midnight when I finally got out. I don’t like travelling in cars at night with people that I don’t know or like. That day I was in a cell for twelve hours. When I got home I was very glad to go to bed but was angry inside which meant I couldn’t settle. I wanted my old life back so much as I felt protected from the outside stigma at residential college.

 

A week after all that happened, my Nephew and Niece came to stay because my half sister went down to Chester to see her Dad in hospital. At the time I was trying to do a distance learning course in Psychology. It was at degree level which I found challenging but I knew about most of the subject by experience. I decided that I had to get a qualification to help people professionally. I was always interested in Psychology especially after I was diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome. It was hard to concentrate on my coursework while they were staying. I went down the library to work during the day to work on their computers.

I had to get up very early Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday to get my Niece to school for quarter to 9 in the morning. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t always arrived late every day. I found it embarrassing to have to go to reception with her when we were late. We weren’t intentionally late as it was down to atrocious traffic going through Leicester in the morning. Then I had to wait for her in the afternoons when they came out of school. I can’t stand it when all those little children piled out of the school doors; it was like an attack of ants. I now understand why I used to hate going to primary school. All those children would have been the same size as me then. I think that back then I must have found them all coming at me in a rabble frightening. The first day a teacher told me that my Niece had been feeling sick all that day when I went to pick her up from school. I was feeling very frustrated underneath when she told me that. I didn’t particularly want to be doing a school run as I was very depressed at the time. The third day I got introduced by my Niece to one of her friend’s mothers. She came out with one of her friends and then grabbed me to take me over to them. She introduced me as Auntie Emma, which I absolutely hate being called in public. Eventually at the end of the week my half sister came down from Chester to pick up my Nephew and Nice and took them back with her.

 

At the time that seemed enough to deal with. My Niece is like a whirlwind as she always wants attention. Then I had a visit from my social worker. She totally upset me so much that day. I was reduced to tears because she made me feel very inferior compared to ‘professionals’. She also implied that I hadn’t got a hope in hells chance to better myself by raising my standards too high. She made me feel guilty for the way I couldn’t help being. I felt bad enough before she came rubbing it in. She said that it was my entire fault because of what I did. Well, because I couldn’t help what I did I was hurting twice as much already without her starting. She just rubbed salt in to my wounds that I had from losing the head of care; the only person who could get inside my world. How dare she say no one meant to hurt me? They hurt me by what they decided to do. It was the equivalent to someone taking a knife and stabbing it in to me again and again. Inside I was already dead by then because I felt so let down at that point. I will never trust again now because it is obvious that nobody deserves my trust. I even began to trust men at one point when I was at college; which I had never done before. I began to trust them when the principal got involved in the situation and he was generally a laid back decent guy. I can’t ever trust again now because I hurt too much. I feel like my heart was stamped on and that I was taken for granted by everyone down there who I thought that I could depend on.

 

I had been running the website to the best of my ability single handed most of the time. I feel that it’s been an insult to me what happened at the special residential college for people with Aspergers Syndrome. I work so hard to benefit everyone involved with AS in some way. I am a highly motivated person. I know that I may have done things in the wrong way but no one can accuse me of not trying. None of the mistakes that I made was done in malice. Maybe I tried too hard but I wish that people would see that I try to do the best for everyone. I have my faults but doesn’t everyone? I think that people should look at themselves before judging others. I only have a few faults to do with my social problems. I’ve tried to make people want to understand which I’m trying to do by getting the public intrigued with the content on my website.

 

Diary entry written a month after I fell into a deep depressive state:

 

December 6^th 2006:

 

November 6^th 2006 will always haunt me. It was the day that I lost everything when I was truly happy for the first time ever in my life. I am going through a grieving process. I hope that in a few years time it will be bearable. If it isn’t then maybe I’ll end up getting overwhelmed and end it all. I feel suicidal regularly at the moment but too chicken to do it. I remember the times that I was truly happy with tears streaming down my face. I don’t even try to cry it’s just an automatic reaction. I knew that if I got kicked out of that college I’d end up back in Leicestershire where I’d be doomed because it’s such a dead ended place. Maybe I tried too hard not to do things. Maybe if I hadn’t of tried I’d still be there. I felt that there was too much pressure which just sent me the other way. The shock of getting kicked out of a college for people with Aspergers Syndrome that I absolutely loved sent me into a spiral of depression almost straight away. My anti-depressants didn’t set in for a long while; they’ve just started working this week. They seem to mask the deep depression that I feel when I’m on my monthly torture. I wish that I’d been on these tablets while I was at residential college. I always used to get really odd and irritable on my monthly torture. Maybe if I’d got put on those tablets in the summer of 2006 I’d still be at that college. I miss the college and everyone so muchL. In this case, the statement better late than never is useless. I was asking for medication for a long time before that but no one ever listened to me. I miss (head of cares name) so much; I really want to see her again. I hope that one day I can see her again.  I’ll change if I’m promised that.

 

This diary entry shows the pain I was feeling at that time. I can’t explain how horrible I felt emotionally at this point. I felt like my life had fallen to pieces. It seemed that it was impossible for my life to become the way I wanted. I hoped for much more than what I had got so far in life.