05/02/2025
My Story: More Than Autism, More Than Illness, Just Me
I’m posting this because I want people to get why I might seem “f**ked up”—it’s not just one thing, it’s a lot. I’m autistic, a Type 1 diabetic with terminal complications, and I deal with weird tics that might be Tourette’s or something else. I’m also a badass DJ, a tech wizard, and a movie obsessive with a photographic memory. After 40 years of doctors half-assing explanations, I’m finally piecing together who I am, and it’s heavy but real. Here’s my story, so you can understand the whole me.
Autism: My Brain’s Unique Wiring
I’m autistic, which means my brain is a mix of genius and struggle. I have near-total visual recall—I see something once, like a movie scene or code, and it’s burned into my memory. This makes me a beast at memorizing stuff, from song transitions to tech systems. I notice patterns like nobody’s business, which is why I kill it at DJing and computers without even trying to understand how. But social stuff? I suck at it. If you tell me someone died, I feel nothing and fumble for words. I’ve learned to “fake it” by mimicking movie lines, but it’s exhausting, like acting 24/7. I mask to fit in, but it makes me feel like I’m hiding the real me.
Type 1 Diabetes and Its Brutal Complications
I’ve had Type 1 diabetes forever, and it’s not just insulin shots—it’s wrecked my body. I have severe gastroparesis, which is terminal, meaning my stomach doesn’t work right, and it’s a daily battle with nausea, pain, and barely eating. Treatments for it led to colon cancer, which I’m fighting now. I also have retinopathy and cataracts, messing with my vision, which sucks when my visual recall is my superpower. These health issues are relentless, and they make everything—autism, DJing, life—harder. I’m tired, but I keep going, because that’s who I am.
Weird Tics and Involuntary Movements
I get these tics—random vocal or physical twitches, like jerks or sounds—that flare up when I’m tired. They might be autism-related stims, maybe Tourette’s, or something else; doctors haven’t figured it out. They’re worse when my health is rough or I’m stressed, and they make social situations even trickier. I already rub my head a lot to stay calm (an autistic stim), so the tics add another layer of “what’s going on with me?” It’s frustrating, but I roll with it.
Sensory Overload: My World Feels Intense
My senses are cranked up. Rubbing my head is my go-to for calming down, like a reflex to handle stress or sensory chaos. Water in the shower hits my scalp weird—sometimes it’s too much, like my brain can’t process it. These sensory quirks tie into my autism and make medical stuff (like hospital visits) or loud DJ gigs intense. Music and movies are my safe spaces, where I can control the input and just be.
My Passions: Where I Shine
Despite all this, I’m a damn good DJ. Mixing feels as easy as breathing, and music is my therapy—it calms me like nothing else. I’m also a computer nerd, solving tech problems intuitively, like my brain sees the code before I do. Movies and TV are my obsession; I memorize every scene, not just for fun but to learn how people act, since emotions don’t come naturally. These passions keep me going, even when my body or brain feels like it’s betraying me.
The Weight of It All
After 40 years, I’m finally understanding my autism, but it’s bittersweet. Doctors never explained it this well, and they’ve fumbled my other health issues too. Reading about my autism made me sad, maybe because it shows how much I’ve carried—diabetes, cancer, tics, masking, all of it—without clear answers. I’ve felt “f**ked up” for so long, but I’m starting to see I’m not broken, just built differently. Still, it’s heavy to think about the years I fought alone.
What I Want You to Know
I’m more than my autism or my illnesses. I’m a DJ who can rock a crowd, a techie who cracks problems like puzzles, and a guy who remembers every movie he’s ever seen. But I’m also someone who struggles to connect, who’s fighting a body that’s failing, and who gets tics that make me feel out of control. If I seem off or don’t respond “right,” it’s not you—it’s my brain and body doing their thing. I’d rather bond over a sick beat, a coding trick, or a movie quote than fake an emotional moment. This is me, raw and real, and I hope you get it.
If you’ve got your own story—about autism, chronic illness, or just surviving—share it. I’m not great at replying, but I’m listening. And if you want to hear my music or talk movies, I’m your guy.
