Let’s talk more about my brain. In the last post, I talked about how a friend helped me realize that maybe my brain wasn’t broken–rather, that I had autism. When she suggested it to me, it was as if a fog cleared up in my head. I have mentioned that I was the one who clued my brother in about his autism a few months before I ended up in the hospital.
About eigt months ago, I was talking to a friend of mine. She’s very frank about herself, so I knew she was autistic. What’s more, she has no problem with talking about it. She will answer any questions I have about it, just as I will answer any questions she has about anything about me. We met in a Discord for a content creator we both watch, but oun friendship quickly progressed past that.
We’re both queer (bisexual for lack of a better term), genderqueer, poly/ENM, and, apparently, autistic. She’s also ADHD, which I may have as well. Neither of us are religious, either. She’s a math person whereas I am not, but that’s probably the biggest difference between us. I like math and I’m good at it, but it’s not a passion for me as it is for her.
We bonded over the fact that we were both magicks-based in Elden Ring (FromSoft), though she was a sorceress, andI was into faith-based magicks. We laughed over having 18 Vigor for the first 100 hours of the game (which means getting one-shot). To put it in perspective, it’s suggested that you have 60 Vigor as soon as you can. I had 38 by the end of the game.
We quickly took our friendship offline (as it were. We took it to DMs), and we sent long messages back and forth. It has been a delight getting to know her, and I would call her a true friend now. I really appreciate that she brought up the possibility that I might have autism because I never would have thought of it myself.
I took an online test, and it was borderline. My friend told me to try to take off the mask, as it were, as I took the test. In other words, she wanted me to ansnwer on impulse rather than think about it at all. Because if I thought about it, then I got trapped. Why? Because I have been heavily masking since I was a young kid. My mother made me her emotional support person when I was eleven, but she had trained me for the job for several years prior.
One question I remember from the test was, “I can make small talk at a party.” Well, yes, I can. I am really good at small talk. I can draw out other people and make them talk endlessly about themselves. It’s second nature by now, and I don’t even have to think about it. So can I make small talk at a party? Yes. Easily. Though I’m out of practice so maybe not as easily as before.
My friend kept encouraging to unmask as much as possible. What I realized was that I just can’t. It’s one reason I prefer being alone–only then can I truly take off the mask. And even then, I struggle. It’s been such second nature for me to slap on that mask as soon as I wake up. I took the test again and really tried to do it without masking, and I found it incredibly difficult. Which made me really sad.
I don’t want to always mask; I really don’t. It’s so damn tiring. And I’m sure it adds to my sleep issues. I know all that, and yet, I cannot stop doing it. A part of me says I should just…not accept it exactly, but maybe not fight so hard against it. Or rather, not to be so hard on myself that it’s automatic for me. It’s been been mentally beaten into me, and at this point, I’m just resigned. I know that I need to work on it, but it’s just…so hard.
One difficulty is that I can’t split cleanly my issues that relate to my neurospiciness versus, say, my training to be an emotional support person. That’s not to say there isn’t overlap because of course there is. I just wonder if it would be easier to deal with my mental health issues if I tackled them one at a time.
Then again, I’m not sure I want to fix the autistic parts of myself if am, indeed, autistic. I like that I can look at things from a very different point of view. I think I would be bored if I thougrht ‘normally’. Then again, I would probably be more at peace if I weren’t such a fucking weirdo. I wouldn’t have to constantly question if my brain was broken.
I have mentioned before that I once complained to K that life would be so much easier if I was ‘normal’. If I did the whole marriage, two kids, office job thing. I could have the yard, go to the gym three days a week, and have people over for hotdish every Saturday night.
She sighed and said, “You would hate it.” She was not wrong. That’s so not me, and I cannot imagine how it would ever be me. However, that didn’t mean tthat I didn’t long for it now and again because I was tired of being a freak. When I am in polite society, even if it’s online, I feel so restricted and constrained. I am constantly monitoring what I’m saying to make sure that I’m not coloring too far out of the lines (there’s no way I can stay completely within the boundaries. That is just not the way I roll).
When I say I want to be normal, it’s my way of throwing my hands in the air and wishing to just not stick out all the damn fucking time. It’s not something I want, really, but it’s more that I’m tired of hiding. I know it’s a large part something I just have to deal with (either by becoming more OK with keeping my real self hidden or just letting my freak flag fly), or I have to deliberately find a way to actually be more ‘normal’.
Well, we all know I’m not going to do the last because it would take too much effort. So it’s a question of if I just say fuck it and let it all out. I’m tired. I’m sick. I’m sick and tired of this life (why does that sound like a song?), and I’m just done. I’m fucking done.