Whatever this is in Diaryesque Stuff

I don’t know why I’m writing this. I’m not comfortable saying this to anyone, so I guess a computer screen is better than nothing.

Next year I’ll be turning 20 in March. It’s actually 6 months away, so I suppose it’s still half a year, but we’re getting closer and closer to 2019 and I still don’t know what to do. I’m looking at courses for I.T. and that’s where I hit my first roadblock. I did VCAL, instead of VCE. With VCAL, you don’t get an ATAR, which is your school grade and universities required an ATAR. I can jump through a lot of hoops with the possibility of getting in university without one, but it’d just be easier to get my VCE by that point, which brings me to the second roadblock.

There’s only 13 places in Victoria that have courses for adults completing their VCE. They seem to be in Melbourne, Geelong, and for some reason Warrnambool. Melbourne’s 5 hours away, Geelong is like 3-4 hours, and Warrnambool is 1 hour away but that’s not an option. My dad’s side of the family lives in Warrnambool, and the whole situation is a clusterfuck better left alone.

I decided to ask /r/australia about whether university or TAFE would be the better option for I.T. I evidently made the mistake of saying “people aren’t really my thing” because the majority of responses were to that comment, tearing me down about how I.T. isn’t some refugee for an edgy teen who doesn’t like people. Only two people gave a fucking shit after I said I was autistic, out of the dozen or two people that replied. Thankfully, I did get an actual answer. University is generally better regarded.

So that leads me back to square one, where I can’t do university without my VCE, and I can’t do my VCE, because they’re hours away and moving there isn’t an option. On the other hand, if I do a diploma through TAFE I’ll get a year off my bachelors, and it’s possible to transition between university and TAFE. I’m not too sure on the details on that.

I was chatting to my dad yesterday about it. He doesn’t think I’d be able to do university or my VCE because I “don’t have it in me”. The older I get, the more I realise I’m not the son my father wanted. He wanted to go fishing. We did that a lot when I was young. I’m not too fond of it. I don’t eat fish, so it seems kind of pointless unless I enjoyed the activity, which I don’t. I’m not sporty, I don’t follow football, and I don’t drink beer. We’re two very different people. He cares, but I know I’m a disappointment.

When we were discussing TAFE and uni yesterday, I’m pretty sure he realised he fucked up after saying I didn’t have it in me for uni. I just went silent and stared at the wall trying not to cry. I’m sick of having extremes. I either cry too easily, or I can’t cry at all.

To top it off, my mood has been up and down faster than a pornstar on crack trying to make her next paycheck. I thought I was better, to be honest. It’s been a while since an episode has lasted more than a few days. My dad thinks I should go to my doctor and get back on my antidepressants just before this. He mentioned I seemed down and I said it was about stressing about this TAFE shit and just broke down. If this episode keeps going, then yeah, it’ll be back on the meds for a bit.

I haven’t spoken to my mum in a long time. I want to, but I don’t. She’s draining to talk to. She likes to pry and know every detail about stuff. I like my privacy. She’s not a bad person, just a bit nosy at times. I’m going to have to talk to her about moving back up there for TAFE, though. A chat is long overdue. But my sisters live with my mum, and one of them has a boyfriend so the house gets quite full and loud and then my mums yelling at Destiny for forgetting something and it’s just an environment I don’t handle too well.

Fuck I hate my brain. I feel like half a person. Why couldn’t I be born neurotypical?

My oldest sister, Destiny, is becoming a social worker who’s studying stuff with autism and depression. I’m worried she’ll be able to read me. I keep the worst stuff from my family. I don’t want to worry them, or have them pry into my life more. But then again, even professionals don’t notice stuff in their own household. Tony Attwood didn’t know his son was autistic until he was 30, and he’s a leading professional in all things Aspergers.

Some times I just want to curl up underneath my blanket and cry until it all goes away. I just don’t know what to do.