I get asked by many youngsters how to pump up the volume in the spring to face the last hurdle of their academic year and get a good result. I’ve only ever competed against the person I was yesterday so I give a mixed bag of advice to the people who ask me.
Here’s a couple of answers I’ve written this morning already to questions in quora, that are full of good advice for anyone facing a ‘last mile home’ situation which they know they will find challenging - but - will be oh so worthwhile in the long run if they arrive victorious!
Sounds like you have aspergers syndrome like me. But you’d call it autism as I go by the UN ICD 10:1992 and you go by the APA DSM 5:21013. You have not said anything about wishing yourself dead, which is unusual, but a good thing. You are in college now and bored with it, lonely, unemployed, and dispirited, so you have all the causal symptoms of suicide ideation building up. I suggest you try this Students - if it does you good try its big sister CSSIL DWTD SAAP.
PS - my ‘students’ program is good for high school, college and university students, and also for professional internships and trade apprenticeships - anything that needs a boost - rocket fuel to get to the other side of the cosmos and back before lunchtime.
What you do is this 7 Steps in 98 Days holistic, positive actions program - CSSIL DWTD SAAP - if you don't think you have 98 days to spare do its 7 steps in 7 days taster for Students.
Maybe it’s because you believe that life is pain and death is pleasant but you feel entrapped in having to remain alive as you can’t bring yourself to kill yourself and risk having to spend the rest of eternity in hell for committing suicide as you believe it is a sin. I can promise you it gets easier. You get to learn that everything in life has meaning and purpose and make it all worth your while in the long run to look upon your life as a white knuckle ride on this great theme park we call, Planet Earth.I’m 72 years of age, and have had a brilliant life, despite a bizarre start to it. However, the shear bizarity of that start had a meaning and purpose for you and others like you, as it enabled me to tell you about it and inspire you to battle on rather than give in to thoughts of killing yourself. You’ll see when you know my backstory. I’ve written it here in Quora many times already, but obviously it hasn’t registered with you yet. So I’ll it again, here and now, as you need my inspiration, to keep right on bravely to the end of the road.I know this may sound like a spooky answer, but I died of oxygen starvation in the womb in the course of my birth and have recollections of being taken to heaven by the Angel of Death and handed to God to have and to hold, and walk and talk and play with as the maternity team tried to bring me back to life. I died again, but in a road traffic accident whilst on my way home from maternity with my mum and dad by car and have recollections of the same journey with the Angel of Death and the same company of God. I died again, but of a cot death, in the early hours of the following morning, and have the same recollections of the journey with the Angel of Death and the company of God. All my ancestors were in heaven to greet me on the third occasion. It was as if invitations had been sent to them all by God, and they’d all obeyed as he was God, and he had called them altogether to christen me. That time my mum and dad, and my mum’s maternal grandfather we lived with, died too and were brought one by one heaven by the Angel of Death as it would not have been a proper christening had they not been there.I died a second time that day. It was after lunch. My mother’s maternal grandfather did too, so we were both taken to heaven again by the Angel of Death. My mother’s maternal grandfather sat talking with his deceased wife in heaven and I had tutorials from other ancestors whom I had met earlier that day, about their lives and works on earth. We left at 9:00 pm, and came back to earth, before my parents got home from evening classes after work. That became our normal afternoon and evening routine, six days a week, for the ensuing 3½ years of my life, and ended because my mother enrolled me at our nearest County Nursery School, so her maternal grandfather chucked himself off a bridge into a river, and I did too. We were both rescued by life-guards, but he had complications and was taken to hospital where he died a year later. I never saw him in the flesh after the incident, but did after his death, as he was on his way to heaven.He had home schooled me mornings to university external entrance exam standard, using a loose-leaf edition of a children’s encyclopaedia he had used to teach all his children and their children, to this standards, so for a year, my mother took me to work with her and my little sister, and parked us with her eldest aunt, his eldest daughter. She in turn parked me, day in, day out, in his former library in her house, as it had been his home until his wife had died. And I hated it. Hate is probably too strong a word for how I felt. Resentful, yes, and, sad yes. And whilst I never cried, as such, I could have done very easily, for, weighed in the balance of pleasure versus pain, my life on earth was pain whereas my death in heaven was pleasure.This division between pain and pleasure widened as time went on. By 15½ my habitual dying and coming back to reflected this. At 4½ I was sent to County Nursery School, and on my first day, I found, from the account of the Head Teacher of her research into my father’s family background 35 years earlier, when he had begun attending that school, I had a bloodline which habitually died and came back to life also, and it was my familial duty to perpetuate this idiosyncrasy, as it had a divine dynastic purpose. Perhaps, to me, it gave the biblical expression, ‘vale of tears’ a meaning. Consequently I don't think I began seeking a balance between living and dying until then. The following day, in school, I killed myself stone cold, autopsy ready, clinically dead, but with every intention of returning. The Head Teacher telephoned for an ambulance, and its medic declared me dead and took me on his gurney, with a blanket over my face, through the aisle of children and teachers, that had lined the route to the ambulance waiting outside in the playground.Why I chose that moment to come back to life and sit up did not become obvious to me until I was very much older. It was to announce that my father’s son and heir had arrived back in the village, as we had only just moved into that part of the village from the adjoining town.The ambulance took me home, with the Head Teacher, at her request, to chat with my mother and father about how she should handle the situation, and they agreed for her to lock me in a storeroom, at the school, like my father had been, to let me have my trips to heaven without disrupting the remainder of the school. The same happened on my first attendance at County Infants School, which was in a more densely populated part of the village we had moved to from the town, to vacate the cottage my mum’s maternal grandfather rented, where we had all lived since 2 days after I’d been born.However, my first day at County Junior School, which was immediately next to the Infants School, wasn’t like that at all. The Head Master there was an eugenist in philosophy, and he called me “Witchcraft” in morning assembly and reminded everyone else the Bible advocates, Thou Shalt Not Suffer A Witch To Live. So they tried to kill me four times a day, every day for the five school days of that week. By the fifth day I was beginning to think maybe the Head Teacher was right, so I ran away from home after school as it was a Friday and tried to kill myself, four times, to find out the truth about this.I failed to find an answer the first three times, and just kept coming back to life. But I was dead for 48 hours on the fourth occasion, and my body went into rigor and all my nails shrivelled up, discoloured, and dropped off, and, when I was found, a doctor certified me dead and ordered an autopsy.I was being stripped of clothing and washed down for autopsy when I came back to life. My mother was a nurse and collecting DNA samples from my body in the form of hair, skin and nails, when I sat up. The undertaker was also there, and neither of them turned a hair, as, they said, many die and come back to life like that, when they are being prepared for autopsy. It is a safety mechanism we are programmed with, as our brains are removed to store in formaldehyde for later slicing for examination under a microscope.And it’s a good thing I had that safety mechanism, as, I doubt my parents would have known that I had killed myself, and why, had I not come back to life and told them. They withdrew me from state education after I said I’d been attacked that systematically at school, and had me privately educated and trained until I qualified professionally at age 15½ as an Esquire of the Royal Division of the County Surveyors Society of the United Kingdom and Commonwealth of Nations.It wasn’t the end of the attacks, however. I had to survive another spate of risks of from age 11½ to 12½, and one final one in my childhood on my way home from qualifying at 15½, which left me with severe memory loss and total identity loss, for the ensuing 34½ years. But, I was well out of it, as an obsessive compulsive workaholic officially secret back room boffin zombie on autopilot for God, Queen and Country for that era of my life, and I could not distinguish psychological pleasure from psychological pain even I had wanted to. I was, ‘on another planet’ the entire time but didn’t know it.But it paid off, because it enabled me to improve the public health, wealth, happiness and security of billions of people around the world in professing highways and transportation aspects of town and country planning for my citizens under the crown and save millions of lives as a qualified advocate, activist, and ambassador for autism and aspergers, despite not knowing it. I’m sure that if I had known it, it would have made me self conscious that I would have been totally disabled from doing it. It was necessary for me to save enough of the planet and its inhabitants, for the big push we have on our hands now to save the remainder of the planet and its inhabitants and completion of our journey of survival pending our arrival at our promised land surrounding the legendary great city of gold in the sky.So weep no more. We are winning this battle of good over evil. We shall be the victors. And we will be healthier, wealthier, happier and more secure than we could ever imagine being, even in our wildest dreams!