And so my story begins....

I was getting ready to enter the 6th grade when my mom sat me down one day to talk to me. The topic must beeen  really important because she seemed very serious. I remember being really concerned,  not thinking it was about me. She asked me how I felt about going to see a doctor. I thought she was talking about going to a 

pediatrician or my primary doctor. When we arrived at a 

building I didn't recognize I was confused.

When we walked into the building, we met with my doctor and she said she had a couple of questions and tests she wanted to do with me, by myself. I was really nervous and confused but I agreed to go with her. Following her through the bare walled office, I felt my nerves growing more, filling my head with uneasy thoughts.

When we got into her office she sat me down in a chair and pulled out a few pieces of paper. She started asking me questions that seemed similar to a Math or English test to me. I really enjoyed the English parts but hated the Math portion. I've always struggled with Math and couldn't understand why she was asking these questions. I was visibly less excited about that part. She then asked me questions about 

what I like to do , what I didn't like to do and many questions 

all about me. After she was done she took me back to see 

my mom. We waited for the results to come in and during 

this time I remember my mom, once again, pulling me into

a room to talk with me.

After what seemed like forever to a child my age, the results came back.

When my mom told me I was diagnosed with Autism I was very confused. As someone who had grown up around Autism and learning about it, I had a feeling in my gut that I was different, and I was. I was different from my peers, and at first I was very upset. No one ever wants to feel like they bare different or that they don't fit it.

But as I grew older, I learned to accept my diagnosis.

I learned differently from my peers, social cues were hard for me to understand. I was a very blunt child, which sometimes came off as being rude. Now that I was aware that I needed a little more help with learning than other kids, most of my teachers were able to help me better! Most of them did.

Some of my teachers didn't try to help me learn better. It wasn't that they didn't care, it was simply that they didn't know how to help me. I had something called an IEP (Individualized Education Plan). This meant that I had certain objectives and goals put into place to help me learn.

For example, I was a child who had a hard time staying still. One of my objectives was that I was allowed to take a walk if I felt needed to move. Some of my teachers didn't allow me to take walks when I needed them, so I had a harder time focusing in their class vs the teachers who let me take walks or fidget when I felt I needed to.

However, my hardest part of my diagnosis was my classmates.

My friends, who were my true friends, were understanding. They didn't treat me differently because of a new label on me. They still treated me like Rosie, just as they always had. They treated me like a person. 

But some of my peers bullied me or mocked me. Because they saw that I was different from them they chose to be mean. People who I thought were my friends turned against me.