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Autism, Cerebral Palsy and being an Adult Baby...#1

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I believe in my previous Weblog Posting here, that I myself have an extreme amount of difficulty in making and maintaining friendships.

Not all that unusual for one such as myself who is on the Autism Developmental Disability Spectrum.

There are only a few other Autistic adults I know, who also know that I am an "Adult Baby", and that by being an "Adult Baby" is not in any way sexual in nature.

I lived a childhood of severe emotional, physical, and occasional sexual abuse at the hands of my late Mother, who was mentally ill and psychotic for decades.

What really hurts for me, is that in childhood, I was forced to "be an adult", and I was ruthlessly "forced" by my Mother to "pass for normal" - "at any cost".

She never wanted anything to do with having a "visible" handicapped child.

In my own mind, even in childhood, I knew that there was something "not quite right" about me, both cognitively and physically.

Although I could "walk", and at age 7 I learned to ride a bicycle and then no longer need "training wheels", my fastest ever running on the playground in school was less than 50% of the speed of other boys of my own age.

I also noticed that although I was a "walking encyclopedia", I could never cognitively understand anything with respect to socializing with others my own age.

It was just brushed off as "Tommy Being Tommy...".

My earliest interest in "being a baby again" was in my preteen years.

Mother was so psychotic, that she was always yelling at me over everything I ever did, day in and day out.

I remember one time, when my Father, Mother, and my youngest brother were "out for the afternoon", leaving me "all alone by myself" at home. While they were out, I went into my Father's and Mother's bedroom and I opened up Mother's Cedar Chest.

In it, I found my "deceased" older younger brother's "Baby Clothes".

The older of my two younger brothers was born a year after me, and he was born with a congenital cardiac defect, which at the time in 1959 when he was born, the World Famous Children's Hospital in Boston, Massachusetts did not have the surgical knowledge to repair, nor the "highly advanced" specialized life-support surgical equipment to even attempt to treat my older younger brother.

I vividly remember the day my older younger brother "died", held in my Mother's arms at home in the House Trailer we lived in, in Derry, New Hampshire.

I was 3 years old.

I remember the sight of his "lifeless" body, cradled in Mother's arms, and all my Mother was doing was "screaming in anguish".

It was a next-door neighbor who called the Police.

I did not know what was fully going on.

All I remember was several police cruisers in front of our house trailer, and an ambulance.

Many "blue uniforms" and grown up men with "real" guns, interrogating Mother, and Father (when he returned home in an emergency from work).

Anyway, back to my finding my deceased older younger brother's "Baby Clothes".

I picked up one of his "flannel" onsies, which was lined from the waist-down with plastic. It was like the snap-crotch plastic pant was made into an integral part of the onsie baby garment.

I pressed it to my face and felt its softness, and I sniffed the fabric and the pee-pee proof plastic part, and a "flood" of memories came to me, of me and my deceased brother sitting on the floor and playing with our toys.

I remembered the happiness, and the "love" I had for my constantly "sick and frail" older younger brother.

I remember wishing "so hard", about wanting to be a "baby" again, and for my Mother to "stop" all the psychotic yelling and the lashing out and "beating the living daylights out of me".

I thought, that if I were a baby again, "Mother" would love me and make me feel good about myself.

But, looking back on it now, from my 55 year-old's perspective, my "wish never came true".

All there was, was the psychotic rages of my Mother, and the constant struggle to "physically survive" to "become an adult".

I was not the only target of my Mother's psychotic "rage".

My youngest brother who was born a year after my older younger brother died was used as a punching bag by her for decades.

I apologize for writing about "difficult" memories for me as an older "Adult Baby" with the lifelong developmental disabilities of Mild Autism and Mild Cerebral Palsy.
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Comments

  1. oleman72's Avatar
    Woody I like the story your telling about your childhood. I can understand where your coming from as I had problems in mine but they were from
    a health standpoint. In my teenage years it then became a problem of a broken home.
  2. kennyrallen's Avatar
    First do not be sorry about sharing this. You are like me we are Adult babies for something the has nothing to do with sex. we are babies in many ways. You know some of what happened to me so I will not repost it here.

    When we share we can begin to heal. Some it it will never heal and we know that. But we can be happy has babies that is what helps us .
  3. Strontium's Avatar
    I'm sorry that you have such painful memory's, it can't have been an easy childhood but I'm glad your able to share them with us when you need to.
  4. LilCoyote's Avatar
    I am sorry that you had to go through what you went through. Talking is the best therapy so no need to apologize.

    I was nine when I lost my grandmother, so I know how it is to lose someone close. I still miss her.

    Take care of yourself.
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