Why We Chose Not to Diagnose Our Son With Asperger’s Syndrome

Why we chose not to diagnose our son with asperger's syndrome


  My middle son (we’ll call him A) slid into the world effortlessly two days past his due date.  A is my rainbow baby–the first baby born after a miscarriage.  My previous pregnancy ended at 13 weeks with no warning.  As you might imagine, I was on pins and needles during the first trimester of my pregnancy with A.  I was afraid to get too attached.  Additionally, I experienced all-day nausea for most of the pregnancy.  It was my most difficult pregnancy by far.  By contrast, my labor with him was easy and his birth became a healing experience for me after a difficult labor with his older brother and the miscarriage of my second pregnancy.



A was born in the morning and that evening my husband returned home to care for our oldest son, leaving me and A alone for the first time.  My darling newborn had been pretty quiet so far and was the picture of health.  However, that night in the hospital would mark the first time of many that I would say to myself about A, “Something is different.  Something is not quite right.”

Within minutes of my husband’s departure, A began to cry.  As a nursing mother who knew full well the natural remedy for a sad baby, I attempted to breastfeed him.  He struggled to latch and my futile tries to help him only seemed to make him more upset. His cries were piercing and I was quickly becoming agitated by the sound and by my inability to soothe him.  Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, after a night of no sleep and a sickening feeling of helplessness and inability, I called the nurse to take my son to the nursery.  

Now you have to understand that I practice attachment parenting.  Sending my baby to the nursery to be cared for by a stranger was a heartbreaking choice for me.  Here I was, a strong earth mother with more than two years of parenting experience and I couldn’t soothe my brand new baby.  His older brother had been a high needs, fussy baby, so crying was no problem!  But this time something was . . . different.

After two days in the hospital, I brought my newest bundle home and we began our lives as a family of four.  A, who is named after two of his great-grandfathers, reintroduced us to the world of sleepless nights, diaper changes and baby smiles.  For A, nursing was not the big deal it had been for his brother.  He was able to learn to latch sooner and he rarely nursed for comfort.  While big brother D had nursed for 45 minutes at a time every two hours, A nursed only when hungry and would not accept the breast as a pacifier.  In addition, when he nursed, he would stiffen his legs and his body was oddly rigid.  It was as if nursing made him anxious.

 Because D had been a comfort nurser, I really only had one tool in my box to soothe an upset baby.  I was able to use a baby swing with some success and practice baby-wearing with a simple ring sling for longer periods, but eventually A would become frustrated in the sling and the crying would resume.  My husband, on the other hand, seemed to have a magical touch with A.  When he’d come home from work in the evenings or on the weekends, A would lay peacefully on his chest.  It was a much needed break for me and the two of them developed a special bond that had been a struggle for my husband to maintain with my oldest, who was a hopeless mama’s boy in his first few years. 

 father and son

As A moved through his first year of life, hitting his physical and cognitive milestones right on target, he was a quiet, but curious baby.  Somewhere around 20 months of age, I began to see A become calmer at home.  While his older brother followed me around the house practically all day, there were numerous times each day that I would have to go find A.  Usually he was playing quietly with his trains.  Often, he was sorting them by color or size.  Sometimes he was lining them up. One family friend noted, “He’s so aware and serious.  He looks so wise.”  Indeed, as he grew into a toddler and preschooler we would jokingly call him, “the boy who knows things.”  And he did.  He would state answers instead of asking questions.  His vocabulary astounded us time and again.  

But while A could carry on a perfectly logical adult conversation about paleontology or astronomy by the age of 3.5, his schooling wasn’t going so well.  When A was 2.5 years old, I worked as a preschool teacher and was able to bring him with me each day.  While he was technically too young to be in my class, he screamed uncontrollably when left in his own class, so I simply brought him with me.  He wouldn’t let me out of his sight and when I took over a bible-study childcare class on an additional day, he wouldn’t even let me put him down.  He cried in my arms for the entire two hours. This behavior away from home was in stark contrast to how calm and quiet he was at home.  

Although I felt his behavior was extreme compared to the behavior of other children his age, I didn’t know exactly what to tell my pediatrician.  In the back of my mind, I wondered if A might have sensory issues that made it difficult to function in a room with brightly colored walls, loud children, constant movement and too much touching.  In addition, the fact that he hadn’t eaten solid food regularly until he was ten months old and that he spent a great deal of time each day fighting a bowel movement made me painfully aware that something was off.  Eventually, fellow preschool teacher and mom saw my struggles and told me that A’s issues looked nearly identical to her son’s.  Her son had sensory issues and when she told me her story, I knew that I was dealing with much more than a fussy toddler.

Partly because of A’s struggles in the preschool setting that year, I chose not to teach preschool again and instead focus on keeping him closer to home.  (And his younger brother was born around that time, as well.) However, when he was old enough to be enrolled in the 3 year old preschool program, he did surprisingly well.  He attended three days per week and never once protested!  He loved his teacher and, having a September birthday, he was one of the oldest children in the class. His adult-like manner of conversing was attributed to his being older than the other children and for a year I was able to see him as more similar to other children than as different.

The next year, when we enrolled him in the four-year-old preschool program, the wheels began to come off a little.  My sweet boy, who had been so happy to attend preschool three times a week the year before, now balked at the four-day-a-week program.  He begged me not to make him go, though he could not provide a reason for not wanting to be there.  He loved his teacher, he enjoyed most of his classmates–all except those who were overly talkative or touched him too much.  After a few weeks, I stopped trying to cajole him into attending preschool, made a plan with the preschool director and his preschool teacher to send him only 2-3 days per week and the rest of the year went smoothly.  


I felt quite opposed to sending him to public for Kindergarten the next year, however.  I knew that it would not be a good fit.  I knew that there was something different about my child.  But, I knew that in order to get him into the environment that was best for him  he’d need a diagnosis.  But what on earth could he be diagnosed with?  He wasn’t autistic.  His ability to communicate was far too advanced for that.  He didn’t have ADHD.  He, in fact, had a calm demeanor and intense focus and was too young for that diagnosis anyway.  I simply couldn’t put my finger on what was not quite right about my sweet little boy.

I took my concerns to my pediatrician who made sure that A was on target cognitively and physically.  He acknowledged that A was struggling with sensory issues and encopresis, but there was nothing that he could tell me about my concerns that A might not fit well into a traditional classroom setting.  Because of A’s late September birthday, he would be nearly 6 years old when entering Kindergarten, so holding him back a year wasn’t an option either.  That summer my husband and I made the decision to begin homeschooling our children.  To this day, A is the only one of our children who has never attended public school.


That same summer, I began my studies in Marriage and Family Therapy.  Not long into my course of study, I began to learn more about childhood diagnoses–autism spectrum disorders in particular–and it opened my eyes to a spectrum disorder called Asperger’s Syndrome.  Although I had read about Asperger’s before, A wasn’t old enough for an official diagnosis, so I had passed over mentioning it to his pediatrician.  The more I read about Asperger’s the clearer it became to me that my dear son was indeed on the mild end of the autism spectrum and that he fit the criteria for Asperger’s syndrome quite well.

Here are the the DSM IV Diagnostic Criteria for 299.80 Asperger’s Disorder (source)

(I) Qualitative impairment in social interaction, as manifested by at least two of the following:

      (A) marked impairments in the use of multiple nonverbal behaviors such as eye-to-eye gaze, facial expression, body posture, and gestures to regulate social interaction
      (B) failure to develop peer relationships appropriate to developmental level
      (C) a lack of spontaneous seeking to share enjoyment, interest or achievements with other people, (e.g.. by a lack of showing, bringing, or pointing out objects of interest to other people)
      (D) lack of social or emotional reciprocity

(II) Restricted repetitive & stereotyped patterns of behavior, interests and activities, as manifested by at least one of the following:

      (A) encompassing preoccupation with one or more stereotyped and restricted patterns of interest that is abnormal either in intensity or focus
      (B) apparently inflexible adherence to specific, nonfunctional routines or rituals
      (C) stereotyped and repetitive motor mannerisms (e.g. hand or finger flapping or twisting, or complex whole-body movements)
      (D) persistent preoccupation with parts of objects

(III) The disturbance causes clinically significant impairments in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.

(IV) There is no clinically significant general delay in language (E.G. single words used by age 2 years, communicative phrases used by age 3 years)

(V) There is no clinically significant delay in cognitive development or in the development of age-appropriate self help skills, adaptive behavior (other than in social interaction) and curiosity about the environment in childhood.

(VI) Criteria are not met for another specific Pervasive Developmental Disorder or Schizophrenia.

When I began my clinical training in marriage and family therapy and had the opportunity to work directly with (and even diagnose a few) children with Asperger’s syndrome, I knew for certain that A was one of them.  It was then that all of the struggles we faced when he was a baby and a toddler started to make sense.  His quirkiness, his mannerism, his intense focus, his need for things to be a certain way, his obliviousness to social cues and so much more all started to make sense!  I felt relief and a deep sadness all at once.

I took my concerns to my pediatrician who agreed with my assessment of A.  However, at that time, the latest Diagnostic and Statistical Manual was being formed and there was talk of Asperger’s syndrome being removed for the next version!  My pediatrician and I agreed that since A wasn’t attending school and didn’t need an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) that it was unnecessary to diagnose him with Asperger’s syndrome.

It sounds so simple, right?  The DSM-5 says Asperger’s isn’t a diagnosis, so we don’t diagnosis him.  Done!  But it wasn’t that simple.  The decision to forego a diagnosis was a heart-wrenching one.  After years of loving this child who had forced me to think outside of the box to parent him and had stretched me to nearly breaking so many times, I finally had validation that my intuition and observations had been right.  Something was different about my son!  His unique way of being in the world wasn’t as unique as I had felt it was.  We weren’t alone in parenting a child like him.  He wasn’t alone in his way of being.  

Part of me wanted a diagnosis.  I wanted to be able to easily explain why A sometimes (seemingly) rudely ignored adults when they were talking to him.  I wanted to be able to explain the odd tantrums that he still had at 7 years old.  I wanted to be able to explain his tics and his narrow interests and his pedantic speech patterns.  I wanted an excuse for his bluntly honest comments.

See, I needed that diagnosis for him way more than he did!  He didn’t need an excuse to be himself.  I needed an excuse to explain him to a world that didn’t understand him.  He didn’t need a diagnosis to grow into who he was meant to be!  I needed a diagnosis so that I could feel sorry for him and for myself.  And so, I decided not to pursue the diagnosis.  

I still fight the urge (and sometimes fail to resist it) to tell people, “Oh, you know, he has Asperger’s” when he says or does something that unsettles others.  I still want people to know that he’s perfect despite his quirks and that he can’t help the way his brain is wired.  I can’t stomach the thought of people  writing him off as weird and not taking the time to get to know this incredibly smart and interesting kid!

Instead of making excuses for him, though, I’m teaching him.  I’m showing him, gently, in real life social situations, how to respond to others.  When he meets someone for the first time, even at 10 years old, I help him know what to do.  I teach him the expected script.  I give him the words to respond when he freezes.  I stand beside him while he pays for his own purchases and I remind him to tell the cashier thank you.  My husband shows him how to break down a menu into parts and disregard the unnecessary sections  to make deciding on his order less overwhelming. We give him a script to kindly tell his little brother that he wants to stop playing and be alone for a while without rudely blurting out that he’s done and wandering off abruptly.  He doesn’t need a diagnosis to learn how to live in the world.  

I know that removing Asperger’s from the DSM-5 has caused heartache for many parents of Asperger’s children.  It’s as if the special needs of our beautiful Aspies’ have been forgotten.  (For the children with more severe Asperger’s, an “autism spectrum” diagnosis still exists and they will be covered by that.)  But we haven’t forgotten!  We can still help them, we just have to be more diligent and more creative now that Asperger’s isn’t a diagnosis anymore.

And, I’m here to tell you that it can be done.  If you have a child who is dealing with mild Asperger’s but who might not be covered under the new DSM-5 autism diagnosis, you may have to work a little harder to get your child help.  If your child isn’t doing well in a school setting, discuss it with his or her teacher and pediatrician.  There may be special services available for your child in his or her school or through your community.  Never stop teaching your child how interaction among neurotypical people works.  I’ve found that my son is pretty good at parroting the scripts that he knows are expected by most people, whether or not he actually understands the necessity of them.  (Look, sometimes I don’t either!  I can’t blame him!)

It’s possible to be an amazing Aspie without carrying around a diagnosis as a life-long crutch to explain away socially awkward behavior.  My son is doing it and he’s growing nicely into the person that he was put on this earth to be.  I’m proud of him and I’m proud of myself and my husband for accepting him for who he is and for finding ways to help him navigate in a world that sometimes seems to him to be “quirky”!

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23 thoughts on “Why We Chose Not to Diagnose Our Son With Asperger’s Syndrome

  1. If I were going through the school system now, I have little doubt that I would be diagnosed with Aspergers. I fit nearly all the “textbook” markers. I am now a functioning adult, with a job, and a small, but great circle of friends. My closest friends get to see the “weird” parts of me that I have managed to camouflage in ordinary social interactions, and appreciate me all the more for letting them see that side of me. I have even managed to maintain a relationship for more than half my life at this point. It is more than possible to go through life without a diagnosis, especially now that he is getting to an age where he will be able to advocate for himself. As long as you continue to teach and guide him, he will be more than fine, he will thrive. Good for you and him.

  2. Hi Allison, my son was diagnosed as having Aspergers like traits at three. Mainly because he toe walked, had a really high IQ and did not give much eye contact. We worked with him on social skills continuously. By the time he finished 2nd grade they decided he was not on the spectrum anymore. He stopped toe walking and gives eye contact now. He is still a super sweet, affectionate, smart, and quirky 11 year old boy. Don’t worry, your son will keep improving over time. All the kids I’ve seen have. They are different but that makes them beautiful to me!

  3. I believe I am an Aspie, too :) I didn’t realize it until I searched for a dx of my son’s condition. He appears to be Aspie, as well, and we may start OT. He’s just got his quirks, as do I… and amazingly; call it “assortative mating”, his father does, as well. We’re a happy spectrum family that hasn’t sought official diagnosis. I do feel it may just be easier to be like ‘We’re Aspies, ignore us’ Hahah. I have few friends but I have what I need. The key is finding what you love and rolling with it. Makes job placement easier, friends with similar interests, etc. Someone you can talk endlessly ‘to’ (not with :P) about your interests. People stare at my anxiety ‘tics’ when I get really nervous and stressed. And I feel their eyes on me. Sometimes I wanna just go full-on hand flapping, pacing, and tell them all I am autistic. But I don’t. I just get through it, and the urge goes away, and the fear subsides and we roll on. :) GL to your son! There are many of us out there, we can and will learn how to relate to others. I scripted myself at work after a couple years and people really took well to it! I wasn’t being fake, just relating how they like to communicate. #1 I say is, ask people about themselves. They like that. Smile. And say ‘have a good day’, or ‘was great to see you’. End of. It gave me a lot of confidence to play the part. I will continue to teach my son what I’ve picked up on. Our high intelligence allows us to do so. My son’s father has not had quite as good of an experience in the work force, but I firmly believe he could be taught to relate if he HAD to. That’s another story, though 😉

  4. Thank you for sharing this. My son, too, is a little off, and we are avoiding any formal diagnosis. You articulated so well what/who the diagnosis would be for. Love to find others who are avoiding this medicalization of our children. Grateful to be able to homeschool and let him be the person he is.

  5. My daughter has an Aspergers diagnosis and was diagnosed at the age of 12. I knew there were some social issues but thank God she was has always been in regular classes and is doing well. As far as social skill she was bit late and we taught her many things. I have to tell you that our school district has worked with her and continues to help when needed. I have come to the conclusion that if a child seems like they are ignoring me or don’t speak I don’t pass judgement because that was my child and many people thought she was “weird.” Our pediatrician that my girl was shy and if they are shy they don’t like to talk. I use to used that term shy to explain it.
    I’m glad I found this post because I can relate and will tell you that A is going to be fine! He has a fabulous family that is teaching him and supporting him and that’s the best medicine.

  6. I am so glad I found and read this, great article! My son is 4 and I could describe his first couple years exactly like you described your son’s. I always felt there was a tiny bit something “off” but he speaks exceptionally well and was developing typically, despite showing some signs of autism as a baby (arm flapping, delayed smiling, extra sensitive to noise). It was only when I started working with people with developmental disabilities that I started thinking my son fit into that category as well. Just his mannerisms and what he says and how he interacts with people are SO similar to the people I met with mild or moderate autism. I started researching Aspergers more and talking more to coworkers who had more experience with it. I definitely think that if I was not in this field I would not have been able to recognize it. I am completely sure he has Aspergers but was also struggling with whether or not there was a need to have him officially diagnosed-honestly I’d rather he doesn’t know he is “labeled”. Everything you wrote has really helped me, thank you!

  7. Thank you, thank you. I’ve just come to the same realization and identified myself at age 48 (seems to be pretty common for many of us late in life identifiers) and my son. Different is just that…different. Without us, the world would be pretty boring. Though the often illogical “rules” can be frustrating, I give a response of “Peachy” and other non-descript replies when confronted with questions such as, “How are you?” and I’m helping my homeschooling son to do the same.

    I think you chose wisely. We’re not asking for anything. We just want to be ourselves.

  8. Thank you so much for commenting, Lisa! I agree that I want my son to be allowed to be himself without “fixing”. He may have a natural inclination to be less socially polished than a neurotypical person, but he learns quickly and mimics well. He’ll do just fine and live happily without the label.

  9. I also have a son very similar to yours. He benefits greatly from the support he receives in school. He wouldn’t qualify for any support/funding in public school without a diagnosis.
    We don’t feel there is any reason not to address or hide his diagnosis. I honestly believe it adds to the stigma and creates shame.
    You are very fortunate to have the necessary tools to help your son. Most parents don’t.

  10. So here I am crying and I could t even finish it yet. This is so my life. My son. My problem. Now I know what’s different. People have pointed things out but I just said he’s perfect the way he is. But I want to explain to people why he’s different. On his good days I want some credit for how hard he’s worked to not show he’s autistic.

  11. My son carries many diagnoses and labels. Not one of them has changed who he is, he is still the same kid. Having some labels has just opened some doors for him as far as services. “Different, not less” is a common mantra in the special needs community. The fact that you think a label is a “crutch” is disturbing to me. It perpetuates stereotypes, that “if we just try really hard, we can overcome autism/adhd/whatever” and while I’m happy your household can, not all can. I can’t help but wonder if you are doing some harm–at some point, your child is going to realize he is different and perhaps wonder why he denied the opportunity to acknowledge who he truly is. And, despite the fact that you have clinical training that is different from what most parents get, you have assumed (perhaps incorrectly) what your child’s diagnosis is. While autism, adhd and Aspergers are among some of the more common diagnoses, there are still 1000s of other diagnoses to consider–have you? Lots of different things manifest themselves in the same way, yet have subtleties that only a neurologist or psychiatrist may pick up. He’s young. As educational and social demands change, other things can surface. I hope that you are not cemented in your opinions in case he begins to struggle. My son’s labels are neither a crutch nor a flag that we wave around each day to announce to others who he is. They are merely words on paper. All children are amazing, no matter what their educational or medical records say.

  12. “My son carries many diagnoses and labels. Not one of them has changed who he is, he is still the same kid. Having some labels has just opened some doors for him as far as services. “Different, not less” is a common mantra in the special needs community.”

    Correct. I appreciate you sharing your thoughts and your experience.

    “The fact that you think a label is a “crutch” is disturbing to me. It perpetuates stereotypes, that “if we just try really hard, we can overcome autism/adhd/whatever” and while I’m happy your household can, not all can.”

    It would have been a crutch for my son and my family because of the reasons I wanted the diagnosis. That doesn’t mean that it would serve as a crutch for everyone. Remember I wanted the diagnosis until I analyzed my reasons for wanting it.

    When I worked as a therapist I diagnosed children and have no regrets nor do I feel as if I handed them a crutch. The children who were being educated in the school system especially benefited from the diagnosis.

    “I can’t help but wonder if you are doing some harm–at some point, your child is going to realize he is different and perhaps wonder why he denied the opportunity to acknowledge who he truly is.”

    I appreciate your concern. My child has never been nor will ever be denied the opportunity to acknowledge who he truly is.

    “And, despite the fact that you have clinical training that is different from what most parents get, you have assumed (perhaps incorrectly) what your child’s diagnosis is. While autism, adhd and Aspergers are among some of the more common diagnoses, there are still 1000s of other diagnoses to consider–have you? Lots of different things manifest themselves in the same way, yet have subtleties that only a neurologist or psychiatrist may pick up.”

    I have not assumed a diagnosis, I have considered other possibilities (I talked about that in the post) and discussed everything with my son’s pediatrician who agreed with my choice not to diagnose based on our family’s unique situation. Again, I appreciate your concern. I can tell that this is an issue very close your heart.

    “He’s young. As educational and social demands change, other things can surface. I hope that you are not cemented in your opinions in case he begins to struggle.”

    Thank you for your concern. I would never continue a course that was harming my child. He’s 12 now and doing great. We’ve work with him in the areas where he once struggled and will continue to work if and when new struggles arise — for the rest of our lives.

    “My son’s labels are neither a crutch nor a flag that we wave around each day to announce to others who he is. They are merely words on paper.”

    It sounds like you’re on the right course for your family. You’re a great mom and are setting a wonderful example for other parents. Don’t lose your passion and keep up the (very important) good work!

    “All children are amazing, no matter what their educational or medical records say.”

    This is my favorite part of your comment! <3 I absolutely agree.

    Thank you so much for taking the time to comment today.

    To other readers: Check out Lisa’s website at http://adayinourshoes.com/. She’s got a great resource going there for parents of spectrum children. Also check out her page on Facebook — https://www.facebook.com/dayinourshoes?_rdr=p

  13. Hi !! OMG!!! I just read ur article and I’m with you in every thing.
    My son is almost 5 and the neurologist mentioned Asperger just 3 wks ago, so ur article just fell from the sky right now. He’s our only son.
    What u are saying about who want diagnosis, really made me think, i always feel the urge to excuse him, and WIISSHH people stopped for 1 min and look the great guy he is And how hard he tries to fit in!!
    He’s adapting and without really knowing any diagnosis, we have been reading and learning how to help him, and he’s now struggling to fit in the system but he tries and is doing ok.
    Me and my husband always try to give him cues on how to react without exploding, or how to start a conversation with other kids, and he picks up really fast.
    I’m so happy to read ur son is 10 and doing so great!! They are really a jewel if u let youself see for a minute.
    Just need to give them tools all the way so they can learn an go on their own someday ??❤️
    Very happy to read your article and all the comments here!!
    Big hugs to all of you !! ??

  14. We chose not to seek diagnosis as well. When I finally realized our daughter probably had Asperger’s, I did as much research as I could (there is a great little homeschooling with Asperger’s book I literally devoured when she was about 9). It has been difficult, but I never wanted her to have a crutch. It doesn’t matter what her label might have been (I probably would have been labeled the same!), she still has to learn to navigate the real world with courage and passion and all the things that make her unique.

  15. For so many of us that did seek a diagnosis it’s not about our children bearing a crutch. It is about our children understanding the differences and it is up to us as parents to make sure they embrace those difference. I wish it were that easy to not seek diagnosis but when your child begs for an explanation of why he’s different and your clever responses no longer are enough, what else are you left with? We chose to tell our son because of his heartbreak over not knowing why things were the way they were. My son has aggression and anxiety issues. He has changed a lot over the past few years and is no longer getting in trouble for hitting other children but I worry every single day and jump every time my phone rings. If I hadn’t put a diagnosis on paper for school, then he wouldn’t have the resources he needs. Part of the reason why I choose to tell those that matter his diagnosis is so that they change their perspective regarding his behavior… I have to teach the world about my son, that’s how it will always be, and without a diagnosis, I’m not sure I could in a way that would protect him…

  16. Thank you for sharing you story, Cris! I agree that in a traditional school setting a child needs a diagnosis to get the resources he or she needs. Both my pediatrician and I agreed that if my son were in a traditional school setting, we’d make the diagnosis official on paper.

  17. I was just diagnosed with aspergers at 45. My life is easier now. I realize I have to prime myself every single day to get my brain functioning for social interactions. I found all the right techniques during the last 5 to 7 years and started practicing them. But then I would stop and I would return to a higher level of struggling through life. Now, my wife knows and she actually is accepting my previous advice in what ways help I need from her. This makes marriage easier. I have to stay aware and not let the defensiveness take over. I have to realize that I don’t read intensity of my wife emotions very well. When I thought she was really mad (she was just being passionate) I responded in a hurt way and my anger was unjustified (but I always thought it was all her fault). I am telling my son he has it so he understands it. I’m going to help him decrease his sensory overload by practicing techniques that quiet the amygdala (fear center). I made so many mistakes socially and felt like I was never good enough. Now that I know it is liberating. I don’t have to be so harsh on myself and I can target the source of my problems better (meditation, EFT, nutrition, diet). I understand not wanting to have a label but it is what it is…

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