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I go back in my family history and there are quite a few people who were obviously autistic, to the point of not talking to anyone and avoiding all social interactions, just as there were some who were homosexual. Most everything like that was hidden away in the closet, not to be talked about.
My four grandparents were somewhat functional in normal society, they were "respectable people" but at home their lives were a horrible mess of autism, OCD, depression, anxiety disorders, and alcohol addiction. All four had had relatives who were entirely nonfunctional and living in their own little worlds, often supported by those members of the family who were functional. One of my grandmothers became a hoarder, just like those you see on the TLC freak shows.
My grandparent's generation didn't have an understanding of what was going on, or modern drugs to keep them stable, but that's not what ruined so many of them. The deadliest thing for them was the fear and the shame.
Most people my age never got a diagnosis. I was simply a weird shy clumsy kid with a speech disorder. I could read when I entered kindergarten, so when the rest of the class was learning their ABC's I'd go to see the speech therapist or go to the special class for weird kids where we would practice our "posture" and "motions" and play games like "Simon Says."
To this day I still hate Simon Says, especially if it has anything to do with direction. Simon says turn left, Simon says turn right, DAMN!, it still takes me a good second or two to process commands like that and come up with an appropriate response that's not sitting down on the floor, turning away from the teacher, and banging my fists against something.
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