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notajerusalemcricketd-deactivat

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ceekari

mythirdeyeisgoogly

cosmicdayglow

One thing that bothers the fuck out of me when I tell people I’m autistic, and they say the old “really? I couldn’t tell! You don’t seem autistic,” is that they COULD tell. They could tell that I’m intense and have no volume control because they’ve pointed it out. They could tell that I dont have a great understanding of social cues because they laugh when I miss them. They could tell that I stim because they’ve told me to stop fidgeting. So they COULD tell, because I DO “seem” autistic, but to them, they just saw my autistic traits as personal failures and never as things that I simply couldn’t help.

emotionalwords

stuckinapril

[intentionally self-sabotages to avoid the crushing weight of genuine failure] well maybe luck just wasn’t on my side this time

tiredandlonelymuse

Perhaps it victimizes me to admit that I am expertly betrayed. Easily taken advantage of. I am not a martyr. I am The Devil’s Professional Advocate. I will put myself in your shoes till my flesh melts with the soles. And in these trappings not made for me, my clumsy and stumbling gait walks me into gaping pits of disillusion. Bear traps set in a forest by those who know I will stop to admire the leaves and search for beetles on their backs who need rescuing. I suppose that I owe my survival to a magic trick I learned (earned?) when I was young:

“Leave your body, and go somewhere else.”

I became such a skilled dis-associator that I split in two. Peel myself straight down the middle like the plastic backing of a bandaid. Astral project into a timeline where I haven’t made whatever grave error in character judgement has landed me in my terrible predicament. I have been asked 100 times what the difference is between Halsey and Ashley and I have never answered honestly. The truth is that I built her, as a child, to protect the tender core that lies beneath. In a confusing chain of events, my maladaptive daydream became my full time reality. My armor can walk and talk and they look just like me. But you can’t hurt us anymore,

Because one of us is not real.

marcymaccamish

Autism: If something changes, I will cry.

ADHD: If nothing changes, I will cry.

ADHD/Autism comorbity: I will cry.

musingsofuttermadness

We don’t talk about this Enough

We don’t talk enough about the shame and guilt and disappointment attached to ADHD and other disorders affecting executive function.

The shame of living in messy spaces and not being able to just sweep the fucking floor like everyone else. And not brushing your teeth or hair for days or weeks and eventually having to spend thousands at the dentist and get a buzz cut.

The shame of always running late due to time blindness. And this extending to being late with deadlines at work or school, when in reality you had to take sick days because your brain wouldn’t let you get out of bed.

The shame of having sensory meltdowns because the world is too much, but being seen as having adult temper tantrums.

The guilt of knowing that you have so much you need to do, but you just can’t, no matter how hard you fucking try.

The guilt of knowing you can’t be a typical ‘good friend’ because you’re often inconsistent and even unreliable.

The guilt of knowing the food you’re about to buy is probably going to gather mold at the back of the fridge before getting thrown out; but you have to buy it anyway or you won’t eat.

The disappointment in yourself when you’ve been hyper-sexual for a week and now feel used and dirty and full of regret.

The disappointment you see in the eyes of the people you love when they see you curled up on the couch instead of following through on your plans, or doing the work you need to do, or doing your chores; but not knowing that you’re screaming inside to just do something, anything.

The disappointment of finally feeling like yourself, enjoying new hobbies, and functioning well again; then falling back into executive dysfunction and depression without any warning.

The shame, guilt, and disappointment of being afraid to share this with neurotypical people out of fear they might just say:

“Stop being so lazy” or “stop making excuses” or “but I saw you last week and you were fine”

As a result of silencing these conversations, we continue the vicious cycle and perpetuate our feelings of utter worthlessness; we suffer and we isolate and sometimes we even give up.

We don’t talk about this enough.

I think it’s time we start.

itchyguts-deactivated20240122

that’s the beauty of life i guess. wanting to kill people

recoveryfriend

exhaustedborderline

bug-pasta

listening to travis mcelroy talk about death and the positive side of nihilism and how some things aren't worth worrying about, like weight.

"someday you'll die and nobody will be worried about your weight anymore. they're gonna be worried about how happy you were. they're gonna tell stories about the time that you laughed and the time that you were silly and the time that you made them happy. and they're not gonna be like 'and this one time, she ate a second piece of cake can you fucking believe it'"

i needed to hear someone say that out loud. I wanted to share this with anyone else struggling with thoughts like this.