Table of Contents
I'm not like other humans; I never have been. I thrive in isolation and can go long periods of time without human interaction. I don't seek attention, preferring to be invisible most of the time, although in recent years I have been trying to branch out and change my ways with mixed results.
The typical human things that bother others never bothered me. Being called nasty names, being made fun of, and mocked didn't really bother me. I didn't like being berated and shouted down from the rafters, but it didn't get on my nerves. I was indifferent to it.
Born Different
Mine is a life that was altered before I ever left the womb, before I was even fully developed in utero, for that matter. You see, I was born with a genetic aneuploidy, which is a fancy medical term for an extra chromosome.
This one little deviation in my genetic code almost got me aborted. Thankfully, though, my parents didn't give up on me like so many others did on their children when faced with a similar diagnosis.
On the outside, I look just like any other male, although there are some subtle differences. Typically, only those with training would know what to look for and how to spot me and my unique difference. On the upside, I have no discernible abnormality that sticks out, so that helps me pass for "Normal."
Even though I'm classified as "Rare," my aneuploidy occurs in 1 in 1,000 live births. Despite a significant reduction in my lifespan (10 years), I am without any major complications so far in my life cycle. As with other types of aneuploidy's, I am at a higher risk for Autism, Anxiety, and OCD, for which I have been formally diagnosed with the latter two.
First Broken Bone
My mother says I was a quiet baby. I rarely fussed and was crawling and walking way before my siblings ever did. At least I was, until my pothead babysitter neglected me, and I rolled off her couch and broke my left leg. I was only 6 months old at the time.
My very first Christmas that year, I was in a leg cast, but it didn't stop me from cruising around in my mobile dinner chair. One thing I have always been very good at is adapting to my situation. That ability to adapt has served me well in my life.
My second babysitter wasn't much better; she could have given Cruella DeVille a run for her money. She inflicted years of abuse upon me and tried to crush my spirit, but she didn't succeed.
Numbers Obsessed
I was not like everyone else. I didn't care to interact with other children, instead preferring to be off in my own little world obsessing over numbers—always the same ones initially—and I saw them everywhere I went. I dreamed about them and saw them when I closed my eyes.
When I was older, I discovered the numbers I obsessed over were the fine-structure constant. Unfortunately, in the decades since, I haven't learned why these numbers were so important to me as a child, and nobody else seemed to care about this significance either.
Eye For Detail
I have always had an excellent eye for detail, super observant even, and this has allowed me to really shine in certain job fields. There's detail-oriented, then there's me. I take it to a whole other level.
Dream World
A lot of stuff transpired when I was a toddler, especially when I turned 5. For example, I began to have very odd dreams—sometimes they were standalone, others were recurring over months or even many years—and they seemed to progress instead of simply repeating.
Many of these were what I considered nightmares, but instead of a boogeyman chasing me down, I appeared to be the boogeyman—only it wasn't me. I would be different people each time—some old, some young, and occasionally different skin colors.
I remember one vivid dream where I was a middle-aged man. He was standing in a living room that featured personal photos on an end table with a lamp on it. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out a knife, stabbing a woman repeatedly. As with most of these dreams, I would wake up sweating and my heart racing.
I never had any control over what I dreamed—not initially. It was like I was merely a spectator, along for the ride. No matter how much I wanted to get off that ride, it just kept going and going until I woke up.
Different Kind Of Dream
Other dreams included classic UFO experiences, even abduction elements. These types of dreams progressed, although I didn't really remember them in the moment—just fragments. It wasn't until later that I would be doing something, and memories would creep back in.
I refer to these experiences as dreams. As a man of science, I have no proof beyond memories and some old dream journals of this happening. However, I still remember them vividly. In every dream, there was always the same girl, and as I grew up, so did she—and we were always together in that place. It felt so real—the smells, the sounds, the G-forces in an upward motion. Her. She was nothing like I had known in my wake state.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
Also, when I was 5, I began to exhibit symptoms of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. This started right after my UFO dreams. My OCD still lingers to this very day—decades later. OCD is something I'm always going to have; at least, that's how it was explained to me early on when I was officially diagnosed as moderate to severe.
UFOBoy
In elementary school, while my peers all played at recess, I was routinely chalking my obsession on the blacktop. In later grades, I spent most of my free time in the school library, perusing every possible book I could find on UFOs—sometimes even using math to estimate distances as described in books to see how accurate alleged sightings were.
Saying that I was obsessed would be quite the understatement. One of my classmates in sixth grade, named Maria, coined the nickname "UFOBoy," and it followed me well into high school.
Could Have Been Worse
In the grand scheme of things, it was the least offensive thing my classmates ever called me. Creep and freak were common; monster was another. Pet killer and rapist were pretty popular too.
I never made the connection as to why my peers were so brutally mean toward me until I learned that I was born different. Subsequently, I learned that my parents gave my information to my school years earlier—possibly leaked.
Haunted By Ghosts
All of a sudden, the "My daddy says you're a pet killer," or "My mommy says you're a rapist," started to make sense.
You see, there was a very biased study done on my aneuploidy in the 1960s, where they studied violent males incarcerated in prison for murder and other heinous crimes.
It didn't matter that subsequent studies ruled out the earlier one. Back in those days, the internet was not readily available, and most people got their information from an expert or the library. It didn't really matter—the damage was done.
Bullied Constantly
Bullying was a frequent, everyday thing for me in elementary school. Eventually, even physical violence towards me ensued. It got even worse in junior high. If I had fought back in elementary school, the bully would scamper off.
However, in junior high, bullies invited their friends to join in the melee. One thing that never changed was that nobody ever fought me one on one.
My Own Person
Junior high is also when I started to find myself and my voice. I was sick and tired of the fakery, the status quo bullshit, and how everyone pretended like they cared but didn't. I picked up fairly early that the public education system was less about education and more about indoctrination.
Once I finally left school, all my problems seemed to go away. I quickly learned that random adults didn't give two shits about me as an individual. They were too busy in their own lives to care about mine—and in a way, this was quite freeing.
Once I became old enough, I joined a temp agency, got work in a warehouse-type environment at a company that manufactured ATM machines. Later, I had various jobs in the electronics, logistics, and production industries. My earlier experiences helped prepare me for life in such environments.
While I faced hardships and a lot of negativity growing up, I adapted. I persevered. And most importantly, I marched on—always moving forward. Yeah, I may be a weirdo. I might creep some people out just by existing. But I'm still here—chugging along and refusing to back down.
Nelsons Note
There's so much more that transpired throughout my life. I could probably spend hours, if not days, typing it all up—and it would be well over 3,000 words. Instead, I leave it here. I can always explain certain things in more detail at later dates in dedicated posts.
Final Thought
I no longer care how I am perceived. I live my truth. Despite the challenges—being born different, societal misconceptions, social rejection—I’ve learned resilience. My past shaped me into who I am today: someone who refuses to be defined by others’ judgments.
I embrace my differences as strengths. My ability to observe, analyze, and adapt has helped me carve a space where I can thrive. Today, I stand proud of my journey. Every obstacle was a stepping stone. I’ve learned that hope, perseverance, and resilience can overcome even the darkest circumstances.
Because I am proof that even the most unlikely “weirdo” can rise, overcome, and leave a mark. I am that little weirdo that could—because no matter how strange or different I am, I refuse to give up.