I Can’t Take It

Author’s Note: Sometimes I like to take ideas from the present and see what they would have for the future. This problem that I have to deal with every day (as I have aspergers syndrome, aka high functioning autism) and the problem isn’t well known to the world. The problem is that there is a near two and a half year wait for people who don’t make the requirements for immediate testing (in where I live at least). That is only going to get worse, as the list keeps growing on a monthly basis. The problems I discuss are actually the bare minimum to get tested for autism immediately after consultation, again as of where I live. There is other requirements, but those were too hard to add to the story. The situation is not seen by the world as much as I hope. This isn’t a story taken seriously (honestly) but this is to raise awareness. Thank you.


“Jordan! Why would you do this?” my mom yells at me, with tears rolling down both of our faces. She kept yelling at me for leaving the house for “days upon days” in her words. In mine, if I stay, it hurts me and drives me to suicide.

“You’re a fifteen year old girl, and you are mine. That’s one of the best things in my life for that. But I can’t take it anymore!” She slapped my face in as much force as she could. I started to shake, knowing that I would be expelled from school, or at least suspended. I would have to be shut up in my room, or the basement to make sure I don’t leave again.

“You tortured the mice that made their way into the house,” my mom said, struggling to get the words out without bursting into tears. “You don’t come back home, and I caught you buying a hunting knife without you telling me! Just tell me why you do this!”

“Because no one understands me!” I screamed at her. “They always assume OK? I-I just want to be normal.” I wept and just hoped mom would let me be.

“Normal doesn’t exist!” she instead yelled at me. I knew she hated that word. She wanted a “normal” child. Instead she got an autistic one, that we learned the past summer trying to find an explanation to why I am the way I am. “You just want to be normal!” my mom continued to yell at me. “Everything you are is not normal! You’re unique, and just please… please just find the beauty in that.” Mom collapsed on my bed that we were arguing on for the past hour. I feeling of pride and pain rushed my body as I lied down. My mom got up and hobbled her way to the door.

“Find the beauty in yourself,” she said as she slammed the door. She openly cried as I heard her go what I believed to be her room. I cried and screamed into my pillow as well, knowing that I was a failure. I was a bad kid growing up. What beauty did I have? All the kids at school kept saying that I was awful, and they never played with me in elementary. Now in high school, I wanted that to change. It was just that my games that I liked, they didn’t. They made fun of me, so I was left alone. No, I did that to myself, because of what they said. They never saw beauty, I can’t see beauty, but mom does. I walked out of my room, still crying violently and made my way to the kitchen. I kept sobbing as I grabbed an orange and ate it. I looked at the knives by the stove and had an urge to grab one and plunge it into my throat. I decided against it, and I collapsed onto the couch and kept sobbing.

The next day after I came home from school, my mom was waiting by the door. I knew she had something to say, by she couldn’t. She asked me about my day, what I did, and what she did which was the usual. It was clear that mom wanted to avoid talking about yesterday as much as she could. Soon, I talked my way out of being with my mom as I made my way to the basement. I went into the closet and grabbed a rope, tucked it under my sweater, and went back upstairs. I had enough of people not wanting to talk about the issues I had. I know what they are thinking now. They think that I am a lost cause, not able to be helped and will eventually hurt other people. I threw the rope into my closet, knowing that if the situation rises again, I can just end it there. I tied a noose, and left it in the closet if I ever needed to use it. My mom called me down for dinner. I was afraid about this.

“I wanted to tell you that last night was a fiasco on my part,” my mom said as I made my way down the stairs. She was pulling the apology and the “forgive and forget” card again. It’s lost the touch it had over the years of her using it.

“Yes, it’s OK,” I say, hugging her. I know that manipulation like this (the kind of acting like you let go) is rather difficult, but practice makes perfect, and now she can’t tell anymore. I won’t let go of what she did, or what she already did. At that moment, I hoped I looked vulnerable. Inside, I was like hellfire, burning eternally but always inside.

“I’m glad that you could let go so easily,” Mom said in my ear. Jackpot. She’s fooled. “Nothing in the world will separate me from you. Never. Never ever.” She held me tighter.

“Except death,” I said jokingly. Mom tightened her grip more. “Air,” I said as she started to choke me.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as she lets go and let me take in air. There was a knock at the door about three minutes later and mom took it for me. Must’ve been about treatment for autism or funding. When they left, mom looked shaken.

“What was it?” I said in curiosity. I wish I never did.

“They… they cut your funding Jordan,” she said in a mix of shock and horror. The funding was the thing that kept me in programs to help with everything. The suicidal thoughts, the learning counsellors, everything in my learning profile was funded by that. Nothing was more important than that in my life. I ran upstairs, hoping that it was all a dream and finding myself in bed.

I wasn’t there. I pinched myself, again to test if I was dreaming. Failure. This is reality. I went back downstairs, into my mother’s arms. We had dinner, talked about what we should do now, and had the occasional awkward silence. When we finished, I went to finish my homework with mom. I know that this is it. I must be getting desperate already. I would have to scramble everything up in my learning. There was so much that needed to be done within two days.

Two weeks passed, and everything has fallen apart. My mom is overworked, I have no idea what the teachers want anymore, and the programs immediately stopped. When I went to open the closet, I found the noose I tied the day after the argument me and mom had. I decided that nothing would let up. I hooked it up, and got ready to step off my bed to kill myself.

My mom entered my room right when I was going to jump. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Please,” she pleaded. “Please no… you’re all I have…”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. Tears welled up in my own eyes staring at her. “I can’t take it anymore.” I stepped off my bed.

  • Ess.Tennant

    I hope you get the help you deserve and need, as soon as you can. If that’s legit and not part of the story at least

    • Kane

      I believe it is legit because I have high functioning autism and am suicidal