Do you ever think maybe the thing that makes you different is the thing people will label you by? It was hard for me as a child, meeting new people and being in a crowd setting. Even now, at 20 years old, I’ve never been to a concert or had a real boyfriend. It was obvious from a young age, I would not experience everything that may fellow classmates could.

You see, I was diagnosed with a moderate case of autism at three years old. And if you think that wasn’t enough, a month later my mom left me and my dad.

“I can’t deal with a messed up child Andrew,” she said, “I just can’t.”

So she packed her stuff up and left on a Saturday afternoon while Dad and I were at the park. When we got back and I saw that all of her things were gone, Dad just looked at me and said, “it’s for the best”. The next few weeks were the hardest on him as he had to deal with me all on his own. Five days later I had to go to court with him, but I wasn’t told why. I did get a peek at a vanilla colored file that read “divorce”, a word I had not yet learned.

As life went on my sensory processing got worse. I remember being in the local ice cream parlor with my father when I was little. He had gotten out of work late that day so we hadn’t beaten rush hour. As more and more customers filled into the little shop, I started screaming and tearing my hair out. My father wrapped his strong arms around me and gently rocked me back and forth. Even though I couldn’t stand being touched, him holding me was different, I felt safe. I remember gripping his shirt so tightly as I tried to comprehend the situation in my head, while my outer self was expressing her confusion and overwhelming feelings through this outburst. He ended up carrying me out the door to the car where he buckled me in and just sat next to me Rubbing my hair in an effort to calm me down. Those kinds of situations are what my mother wanted to avoid. She wanted to get out, before my autism became too much of a burden for her.
* * * *

“Well, that’s the last of your stuff. You sure you’ll be okay?” My dad frowned as he realized his daughter was all grown up.

“Hellz yeah! Thanks again for helping,” I say through a huge grin as I try to contain my happiness.

“Jenz, did you really think I was going to let my only daughter move into her new college all alone?!”

I smiled, there was that nickname of mine that I would miss hearing so much. When I was little, as a joke, my dad would say Jenz and hold onto the last letter until he was out of breath. Soon the name stuck and it was shortened down to just Jenz.

I knew that the real reason why he took the day off was to make sure my new surroundings weren’t too overwhelming for me. Don’t get me wrong, it was completely terrifying but mostly I was excited. It was just so unbelievable I had made it here.

I still remember that day like it was yesterday. I was sitting across the kitchen table as my dad sat on the other side holding a pearly white envelope. This was it, I had worked so hard to get here, and in that letter, was the results of all my effort.

“Now Jenz I want you to know that no matter what, I am so proud of you.”

“Thanks Dad,” I rolled my eyes, he could be so cheesy sometimes.

“Here we go…”

The time he took to open the letter seemed like a decade. I could hear the familiar buzz of the fridge, the same one I would listen to in the middle of the night, wondering why my mom had left us. I snapped back to reality when my father pulled out the letter and started reading it.

“Dear Jenny B. Marcus we regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you…..”

A huge lump seemed to drop into my chest and I could feel tears pushing their way to the surface. I hadn’t been able to apply right after graduating from high school, so I had taken a year off. But when it came time to apply, I worked my ass off in hopes of getting in.

“PSYCHE! Gotcha Jenz, you got in!”

My sadness turned to happiness which turned to anger real fast.

“I can’t believe you did that, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

Dad had this huge smile on his face like he had just won the prize for biggest jokester. But my red hot cheeks cooled down as the moment hit me.

I would be attending college next fall.

Studying hard and working on my social interactions had finally paid off. Now I had the opportunity to go for my dream job. Ever since Dad brought me to the Boston Aquarium for my 8th birthday, I’d dreamt of being a Marine Biologist. These animals were other living creatures that didn’t make me cringe when they came close. I could look into their eyes and see a story, even if it wasn’t actually true.
* * * *

A month had already flown by and besides the occasional need to be excused for a walk after a classroom full of people got to be too much, everything was going great. Of course Dad called me everyday and asked if I missed him. I responded, “yes, duhhhh”, and would reassure him I was fine and doing well. My teachers were all extremely respectful of my needs, which was a nice difference from my old school. I remember this one teacher I had that didn’t particularly understand what me having Autism meant. She didn’t get that I needed more time than others, and she would pull me aside and tell me I wasn’t trying hard enough. That lasted 2 months until one day I told my dad and I was switched to another class.

So far I’ve somewhat been able to keep up with the other students, but there’s always that feeling like everyone else knows that I don’t belong here. This girl, her name was Allison, offered to be my partner on a class assignment. But she ended up talking down to me the entire time and wouldn’t let me help. I think maybe she was made to ask me to be her partner.

It wasn’t until that night that anything memorable, more like unforgettable, happened.

She came bursting through my dorm room at 10:00 pm that night. I could already tell she was drunk by the way she walked. Swaying her hips dramatically so that the hem of her dress swished in the air. She wore too much makeup and her hair was put up in this awful side bun. But I had to give it to her, even though it looked like she had woken up in a graveyard, she did look 5 years younger which was probably what she was hoping for. She laughed as though my room was filled with people that she had to compete with to be heard over.

Her head then snapped in my direction and she said, slurring her lines, “Come join the party Jenny, don’t be such an outcast.”
I had no clue what party she was referring to, if it was the imaginary one in her head or an actual party in some stingy bar. But all I could manage to say after not seeing this women for over 17 years was, “Leave.”

“That is no way to treat your mother,” she staggered across the room, almost tripping over her own two feet. As she came closer to me, all I wanted was to be at home in the protection of my father.

“I gave birth to you, then 20 years later you don’t even have the kindness to give me a hug?” she hummed through alcoholic drenched breath.

Reluctantly I get up and wrap my arms around this hollow body that I’m supposed to call ‘mother’ when really I’m surprised I even remember what she looks like. She smells completely like liquor and cigarette smoke. As I’ve mentioned, over the past several years I’ve gotten better with physical contact with others. And even though my mother is the last person I want to be hugging right now, I’m able to stay calm.

As I pull away from her, she takes out a small pill and pops it into her mouth. Why does it not surprise me that she’s on drugs as well?

“Wooo! I feel great, let’s go get drunk!”

I just roll my eyes and think about what I’m going to do with her. But before I can organize my thoughts, she is running out my door and down the hallway. I was thinking of just closing my door, locking it this time, and going back to schoolwork. But that’s when I realized her dress, all clumped up on the floor.

“Oh no.”

I found myself running fast down the hall, after a mother who is best at running away from me. I shouldn’t have left my room, now there’s a chance of me getting caught with a naked mom running around campus. It takes me a second to realize I am already outside the building, which also means I didn’t catch her in time. I hear some hoots and hollers from a bunch of guys as they watch my mother skip around wearing nothing but a lace bra and matching panties.

“This can’t be happening,” I think to myself. This public attention is too much and I feel like screaming. I haven’t gotten this feeling in such a long time, it’s no shock that its back along with my mother.
I start to shout and cry at the top of my lungs, I gasp for air as my throat swells up. I don’t even notice the campus security putting my mom in the car and then coming over to me. He tries to help me up and calm me down, but the touch of this strangers skin is enough to set me off and I punch him in the gut. Behind the blur of tears rushing down my face, I see him fall to the ground. I head straight for my dorm room and lock the door behind me.

Immediately, I know what I did was wrong and I call my dad. He doesn’t answer. I knew he wouldn’t, he works late shifts on Fridays. But when I was younger, no matter what he would always wake up early the next morning to make me breakfast and spend time with me. That’s what a good parent does, and if this is what happens to me when I see my mom, I can live without ever laying my eyes on her again. I put in my earbuds and fall asleep with tears dripping down the side of my face and landing on my pillow.
* * * *

It wasn’t surprising that the next day I was called into the Dean’s office. My mother probably ratted me out when she was questioned for streaking on our campus. I could not believe I was about to get expelled. My first year at college, struggling with both my autism and my grades, and here I am waiting to see the Dean. This is only one person’s fault, and to make it clear that person is NOT me.
She just had to show up last night. She’s been completely fine with staying away for 17 years so far, but I guess now she just needed to see me. It took me and my father 6 years to get over the gap in our lives that was because of her. For me to go to school and see everyone else have a mom that drops them off and kisses them goodbye was so painful. Where was she when I was having that breakdown in the ice cream parlor?

She was long gone.

She was who knows where, doing who knows what. I couldn’t believe she thought she could just show up one drunken night, and believe that everything would be fine.

As I come out of this inner conversation, I realized I have completely torn my nail off of my right thumb. The blood starts to run down the side of my hand and I lick it off. I get up and walk over to the secretary’s desk.

“May I have a band-aid please?”

“Of course dear, here you go,” she smiles pleasantly as she hands me one.

I go back to my seat and tear open the wrapping. As I start to place the band-aid on my finger I hear my name called.

“Jenny, the Dean will see you now.” The sweet secretary is pointing her boney fingers toward the large oak doors to my left.

I inhale slowly as I lift myself up and start to walk through the doors. I will either be expelled, or maybe just kindly warned? Personally I’m hoping for the latter. I really wish my father was here to hold my hand and hug me tight, but I know I need to do this alone. I came here for me, for my dad, and to prove that autism may slow me down but it doesn’t stop me. I’m sure as hell not going to give up now. I walk in with my head held high and try to portray the confidence I want to be seen as having.

I take a seat in the large wooden chair across from the Dean’s desk. I’m here and there’s no way to get out of what happened, whatever comes next is for the best.

“Hello Jenny, let’s just get right down to business shall we?”

I smile pleasantly, but my hands are sweating buckets as they rest calmly in my lap.

“Can I just say that I apologize for everything and I would really like to continue attending this school.”

“Jenny, I am aware of your family’s situation and I fully understand that last night was very much not your fault. You do not need to worry about expulsion whatsoever. But the school board met this morning and we feel that the right decision for you would be to get a restraining order against Ms. Lacey Johnson, your mother.” He pauses to wipe his glasses off and place them back onto his face, then he continues, “Obviously we can not force you to do this. But I think it would be safe for the other students on this campus and for you, if she was not able to come around here ever again. I hope you do not find this thought offensive and that you will consider it.”
Back in my dorm room, my head was clouded with thought. I know earlier I said I would be fine never seeing her again, but did I really mean it? Last night didn’t end well but when I saw her standing in my doorway, a part of me was kind of happy to see her. But for one thing, I knew that I never wanted to repeat what happened in the schoolyard. This wasn’t an easy decision to make, but was it logical? There were too many questions spinning around in my head. Tomorrow I would call my dad and talk it through with him.
Whatever choice I make, it’ll be for the best.
* * * *

I can’t believe it’s graduation.

It’s been four years full of pain in the ass schoolwork and conquering my autism. My fellow students have learned that autism is not a reason to treat me differently. I’m pleased to say that student who was forced to ask me to be partners, Allison, we are now good friends. I’m not graduating valedictorian, but I am in the top 10 which is still a huge accomplishment for me. 

Now I’m sitting in my cap and gown, waiting for my name to be called. Dad is in the crowd, trying to hold back tears as his only daughter takes one step closer to independence. Little does he know that I will forever and always need him.

I look two rows behind me, and there’s my boyfriend, he gives me that signature wink that I love so much. After graduation the two of us are moving to a small apartment just outside of Boston. Close enough so I can commute to my new internship at the Boston Aquarium. When they reached out to me, I couldn’t contain my happiness. Of course the first person that I called was my dad. 
As for my mother, well I haven’t seen her since that one night during Freshman year. I do hope she can get her life together. At least enough to have a more sophisticated conversation with me. But you can never tell with that woman, I guess only time can help her out of the hole she’s dug for herself. But she is not my responsibility, and as long as she respects my wishes, I welcome her to contact me again.

Despite what the Dean and the school board wanted, I decided to not get a restraining order. But I did have our lawyer reach out to her and give her some outlines of our situation. We would not take this to court and file a restraint order, if she stayed away from me and my college campus. But I made it clear that I would be interested in reconnecting if she could pull herself together and clean up her act. It’s weird, I felt like a parent telling their immature child that they are heading down a bad path.

But really, that’s exactly what I was doing.

I finally realized that Lacey Johnson had been nowhere near prepared to be a mother of any kind. And though she broke up our family, my dad and I were better off without her. Now all I can do is to make sure my autism never stops me, but pushes me forward, and proves her wrong.