By Julie Hornok
Being extremely independent has always been one of my best traits, and yet at the same time, one of my worst traits. In my childhood, I tried every type of activity imaginable, but I never found a team that was worth staying on.
I tried soccer, but the thought of getting kicked in the shin wasn’t worth the lack of thrill I felt when someone else kicked a ball through a goal. I tried softball, but somehow standing in the outfield and ending up covered in fire ants took away any joy away from the fact that one of my teammates could slide into home plate. Acting was worth a try, but it turned out to be quite annoying when I said my one line, “I like porridge too,” and then had to sit around watching others talk for another hour and a half. Of course, drill team was sometimes fun, but even being with my friends at something they were good at wasn’t worth listening to the screechy voice of the drill team instructor.
Even with all my childhood lack of interest, I somehow grew up with a strong “can do” attitude. I was a firm believer that with enough will power and hard work, I could overcome anything. The power of positive thinking could and would beat the odds of whatever was put in front of me. And then I met Autism.