Published on 12, July, 2020
Four decades of trying to get on. Fourteen years of school. Two courses of CBT. Surely, an abundance of clues given off by me… and nothing. *I* had to be the one to suggest autism. But not before all those decades of tacitly assuming and resolving that all the stress and anxiety were things I just had to be clever enough and strong enough to push through. Desperately trying to obtain and cling on to a shred of credibility, despite my weirdness. Being failed over and over again by a lazy, vacuous, uncaring, one-size-fits-all system. Having such a low opinion of myself for thinking I was a pathetic failure. And feeling so humiliated at being alienated by the ‘normal’ majority that this precious society is designed for. Trying so very hard to get on and succeed… denigrating and trying to push past my weirdness and difficulties. And internalising such nasty, cruel thoughts. Hating myself for being weak, stupid, gormless, needy… and projecting that onto strangers, because they represent the normal majority who seem to have it so easy by comparison and are so unguarded and homogenous in each other’s company. Is it any wonder I felt “f*** you, then” and kept them at arm’s length? And that was before covid AND the cladding scandal came along to terrorise me simultaneously, as I lived alone in this flat. You’ve really done it this time… you expect me to be like you? Shrug a shoulder and casually go wading back into social mixing despite the risk that remains? Like I cannot possibly do without you? After what you’ve done to me? Go f*** yourselves. That’s how I feel. I’ve had enough of the arrogant, flippant, lazy, casual, offhand, uncaring, vacuous, one-size-fits-all attitude. It got very old a very long time ago. And now, with this toxic, non chalant “we have to learn to live with it” attitude… they just expect me to swallow that? They expect me to need THEM so much that I’m prepared to risk getting long covid for the ‘privilege’ of their company in this shallow consumer culture that we cannot possibly do without? Either that or they expect me to be so flippant, casual or in denial about it (LIKE THEM) that when BORIS (that well-known philanthropist and teller of truths) comes on TV and says “you don’t have to wear a mask any more!” I’m supposed to be like them and say “oh, OK, great, let’s all get down bar and ‘ave a f***in’ brew!”? Er, no. You’ve really done it this time. How dare you expect me to come gormlessly sauntering back to your society after everything you’ve done to me. Shove it. I’m out.
Your words resonate with me strongly too.
Arx said:Four decades of trying to get on. Fourteen years of school. Two courses of CBT. Surely, an abundance of clues given off by me… and nothing. *I* had to be the one to suggest autism.
That was something that really got to me post diagnosis. Looking back it was so obvious! There was a huge sense of loss for how different things could have been if only someone had picked it up earlier in my life.
Arx said:But not before all those decades of tacitly assuming and resolving that all the stress and anxiety were things I just had to be clever enough and strong enough to push through.
Decades of trying to push myself through my anxiety resulted in massive burnout. Yet that attitude prevails from some even post diagnosis. When the issues are sensory due to autism no amount of pushing through that is going to help. It will just lead to increasingly frequent meltdowns, shutdowns and ultimately complete burnout.
Arx said:Being failed over and over again by a lazy, vacuous, uncaring, one-size-fits-all system. Having such a low opinion of myself for thinking I was a pathetic failure.
No longer feeling like a failure is one huge positive that comes from being diagnosed, whatever stage in life. If is just a pity that self esteem is often totally destroyed before that finally happens.
Autonomistic said:There was a huge sense of loss for how different things could have been if only someone had picked it up earlier in my life.
I can very much relate to this feeling. Although it's impossible to know exactly how one's life would have turned out, it's as though one ends up going through a grieving process for the life one might have had if it had been picked up at an early age.