I tried out and made the team. The excitement propelled me into the season, but it did not last very long. There were variables such as bullying and lack of team focus that did not change and were out of my control. The environment was unsettling for me, but I played each game to the best of my ability. I wanted to give up yet chose to finish what I started. It was at this time that I had concerns and discussions with my parents that resulted in them telling me that I have Aspergers. Diagnosed with autism when I was 20 months old, I did not exhibit verbal skills and struggled with sensory overload. Thus, my parents enrolled me in an early intervention program when I was 2 years old through 2nd grade. I remember an aide being in my classrooms (I did not know they were supposed to be there for just me) but apparently, since I was “high-functioning”, they became more of a “teacher’s helper.” Proud of overcoming my diagnosis, I still felt a sense of betrayal for not knowing sooner, as that would have explained why I have questioned myself through the years; but, I have come to comprehend why this was not an earlier discussion. My parents’ reasons were out of love and what they thought would be best. I do not agree, but I may think differently, someday, when I am a parent. Yet, it was now up to me to use that knowledge to help me run through - and not around - each of my finish lines in life and make better