#trecherous waters

[emrayfo]

[noonessharperthanharper-blog]

Check it out, MERMAIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#StillStuckInThisCreepyCave  #MyPhoneWillDieSoon  #TheseLadiesWereKiller  #NoSeriouslyTheyKilled2People  #IUseHumorToMaskMyHorror  #SeriouslyGetMeOutOfHere  #IfThisIsArcheologyImSwithchingMajors

[pastelbrachypelma]

Two days ago, my mom told me that I have always been a mean person who lacks compassion.

As an empath, who in fact feels everything, sometimes to an extreme degree, this hurt my feelings a lot.

We were arguing about a misplaced credit card. (She says she asked for it back and never received it from me, I say that I returned the card to her as soon as she asked for it.) To be fair, I knew immediately that the wrong thing to say was “You were accusing me of stealing,” because she never said anything like that, but that’s what I heard like always, because I understand things as very black and white. (I’m not sure if it’s related to autism, or if I’m just fucking dumb, but that’s how it’s always been.)

But I still don’t think it was fair of her to go off at me, accusing me of never being nice to her, of lacking compassion.

Because I have come to think that I was not, in fact, a mean child, as my mother so likes to “fondly” remember me. I have come to believe that I was an autistic empath child, struggling along without guidance from anyone because my mother didn’t want me labeled.

It’s hard to say if I would have benefitted from help, because my mother acts one way in public and another when we are alone. (And regardless of what she is told by a professional, if it clashes with her reality, she will not listen to it.) But maybe I would’ve known myself better, and learned not to necessarily blame myself for saying weird things or acting strangely.

I’m starting to think that my mother is simply parenting me the way she was parented. Her mother must have told her that she was cruel and evil and lacked compassion in an effort to silence her arguments, just as she tried to do with me.

I’m glad I continued to try and explain, and I’m glad I got a little sassy and brushed her off. If I hadn’t, I would’ve never gotten to tell my side of the story, and gotten her to explain to me, in simpler terms, what she was trying to say. (I still don’t understand; she claims it doesn’t matter, yet if it didn’t matter, why are you a: remembering it at all or b: calling me names just because you think you’re right.)(