Syndromes.

I never knew cooked carrots could be this delicious. A buttery, salt-laden nub burst between my teeth, these weren’t the carrots I grew up eating. My mom didn’t cook, and when she did, it was alright. I sensed this was not the “Joy of Cooking”, as she never seemed thrilled when she had to whip something up.  It was a painstaking task, and it was either for her coworkers, or if we were lucky, us.  

I never thought much of my childhood, and when I did, I would get into the rotten parts only (thanks depression!) but I knew, I had a pretty interesting upbringing. 

My brother was born mute – didn’t cry, which scared them into thinking he was born deaf. Autism wasn’t a big thing at the time, (No Jenny McCarthy) because of this there wasn’t much of an umbrella to branch out and explain different spectrums. Mental health wasn’t thought much of, and they simplified to such an extent that most people were misdiagnosed. Some were medicated to the point of drooling. 

Which is pretty fucked up. 

Joseph was diagnosed with tourettes syndrome, a mental syndrome that is not at all what he has. He definitely was on the autism spectrum, but since the only way you could have that is if you were the severely retarded (think: drooling and yelling). As a result, he was not counted.

Unfortunately for his sanity, my brother is a psychosomatic personality. He meticulously read and researched every morsel of information he could squelch about his mental state. He became an ambassador of the handicapped- well, TouretteSIcapped, which meant that he informed everyone he met about the reality of the "syndrome". How it wasn’t all cuss words, and such. He would have these “ticks”. There would be so many “fuck yous”, and middle fingers, I think my pops was thinking they were at him - inner guilt?  I would always silently chuckle, because I never really knew what else to do. Any one in his company would get so flustered and helpless, as to help cease the cuss. I would try to relax him by saying our favorite silly words, but mostly, I would follow the sleepwalker rule.

Unfortunately, once they correctly diagnosed him, he still had the tics. I’m assuming this was due to my mother not allowing him to read any information about his new disorder. Smart move. I can't say that this is the case now, as he has switched sides, and has ambassador-ed up for Team Aspergers. Instead of blaming his tics on Tourettes, he now blames his nude night walking on being an Aspie, after he was busted on camera gallivanting in the buff by a retail store in the middle of the night.  

They should consider themselves fortunate to have such an open minded spokesman.