It was late one Christmas eve, and I was still young and full of wonder, and as young people who are expecting Santa to arrive with presents, I was wide awake – ready to experience the joys which Christmas brings.
Finally, I went to bed. I lay awake for many hours listening to the occassional muffled sounds of my parents talking through my closed bedroom door. My step dad came in and talked with me. He pointed outside my bedroom window directing my attention to the rooftops of our neighbouring houses. He told me that Santa was on another rooftop, and that he wouldn’t be coming to my house, if I were awake.
He left my room and closed the door behind himself. I looked outside to the rooftops for a short while afterward. I was thinking about the wonders of Santa Claus before finally turning to my pillow for sleep. I think I got to sleep pretty quickly.
The next morning, I woke up to some large presents under the Christmas tree. I tore open Santas gift to me, first. It was the entire collection of Ninja Turtles figurines. Crang was the only character missing from it. I was over the moon with my present(s). There was also a Lego pirate ship which I set to building immmediately after opening the Ninja Turtles. There was also a Nintendo Entertainment System, but I couldn’t play it, as there weren’t any games to play at that point.
Mum interceded on my behalf, over the pirate ship, saying that it would be too difficult for me to build on my own. So I played outside all day with various toys, such as my matchbox cars, while she and my step dad built the pirate ship for me. It was very late before I was able to see the completed ship (they’d spent the entire day putting it together). I was a little disappointed that I wasn’t able to build it myself (or with help), but I enjoyed about an hour or so playing with it, until mum told me it was well past my bedtime.
I had to go to bed. The next day we went to the video shop to rent out a game. I think we got Mario Brothers, and The Ninja Turtles. I played it non-stop, and I developed a bit of an addiction to video games through it. For many years, I enjoyed playing the NES games which were sometimes borrowed, and others bought second hand (mostly, some were bought new and original), and found it a great lot of fun.
Our neighbours had children around my age, who went to the same school as I did. One of which I was good friends with, Margarette. Leading up to New Year’s eve, I decided to lend the console, and the one game in my possession, Mario Brother’s 1 to her, and her family to play “for a while.”
I quickly changed my mind about lending it out, as I wanted to play it myself, and mum told me it was too late at night to go there to play it. I was in a terribly angry mood, but was allowed to go there to ask for it back – which I did. Margarette’s mother answered the door, and was disappointed that they didn’t have it very long, but I wasn’t the greatest communicators back then, as I was only starting primary school that following year.
I started disliking school over staying at home with my Mother. One of her “rules” to my staying home was that there would be no Nintendo all day but I didn’t care. I didn’t like school, and I missed my mother who I knew would be home all day, where I was used to belonging. Afterall, I still enjoyed my toys (which upset my Mum, who was frustrated with my distaste for the school environment), and would tell me that I shouldn’t be playing with my toys either, if I were having the day off school.
It was only prep, afterall. I felt different to the other kids, who as they interacted with one another, would appear as like a scene from a movie, or tv. I would just zone out and think about how they were all talking to one another. I ended up in a conversation with mum about my being different, on a number of occassions.
Mum eventually offered me a solution to my questions, that of going to see a psychologist. I was adament about doing so, and so one day not long after, I found us trudging into a psychologists office, complete with a foreign step just inside the door.
I vaguely remember one of the psychologists telling me that I might have Asperger’s, but mum wasn’t pleased with this outcome and insisted that there was nothing wrong with me. It took me many years, and an earnest interest in psychology, to discover that I might be on the spectrum. I was convinced of it, and so I went to see a psychiatrist who is qualified to diagnose ASD’s, and was finally diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome.
This was a massive relief to me at the time. But then came the crippling depression, and flat out refusal to accept my condition, or myself. I felt inferior, and wanted more than ever to be normal, and lead a normal life. My special interests changed from passions, to an outward sign of my condition, and I left my usually happy place of thoughts for a series of complicated introspections on the condition I have, and the manifestation of Asperger’s, in the way one no longer appreciates the beauty in things, and starts to question the nature of such appreciation.
I suppose I’m longing to regain that appreciation, and in finding Jesus as my saviour, I’m hoping that He can make my life whole and complete again. And even help me with my other issues. Lord Jesus increase my faith! Amen. I haven’t always believed in the supernatural, but from a young age, I had a great amount of belief in it. I suppose there were some influences on me.
One influence was my step-father, Robert. I had a Skeletor action figure which came with a replica of his staff which had a skull atop it. I put it in the kitchen sink which Robert told me was a bad omen, and then my mum cut herself while doing the dishes. He made a point of confirming his previous comment on it.
Then was a witch at school, following her own mother’s beliefs, who used to talk about interesting topics which I was forbidden to learn about by my mother. One day, Chantelle, and our mutual friend, Sheree were sitting under a tree in the playground on one of our breaks. Another friend of mine, Simon was running through the sand pit where other young children were building things, as he would race through, kicking them all down.
We watched him do this again, while we spoke about Chantelle’s beliefs. I personally was upset with Simon’s actions but none of us spoke about it. When Chantelle admitted that she, and Sheree were both witches, I decided to put them to a test. I meant to say: “Make Simon stop it,” but as I was transfixed on Simon running across the oval, the words came out: “Make Simon fall over.”
I’m not sure, but I think Simon began to trip over as I was starting my sentence but then changed the completed sentence to “fall over” as he was tripping over. Chantelle gave me an excited hug, saying “Well done! You used your intuition!” That stuck with me for many years, and for many years after moving away from that area I was fixated on learning more about witchcraft. I believed in it.