Hello, everyone. First off, I want to say that I met with my case worker today and I’m still not 100% sure what the fuck we do together. I also met with Charon, as per usual on Mondays. I’ve been thinking more and more about getting a service dog. I would like a nice golden with the long coat. I would name it Charles. Or Bothersome. One of the two. Anyway, I sort of typed out the following rant without writing my nifty little news update first, so it won’t flow as well from here on out as it normally does. My apologies. It also started as a response to ToadieOdie’s comment on one of my previous posts but once the word count hit 500, I figured it deserved a post of its own. Without further ado, here is today’s random rant.
I always say that I am awesome. I try my best to be kind and honest to everyone. I like to help when I can. I like to make people happy.
I used to have a deep festering hatred of myself. I blamed myself for a lot of things and tried to busy myself with things that didn’t fill the empty place I felt in my heart. When I do stuff that doesn’t require much except brain power, such as maths or reading, I find myself getting lost in it. I can do hours of reading or hours of maths work that go by with no real body awareness on my part. I do the work and get it done. When I do that, I am nothing more than a machine.
But when I take time each day, no matter what I do, to sit down without electronics or busy work, books or puzzles, or when I do manual labor or exercise where the only thing left to occupy my time is my thoughts, I fall into that abyss of nothingness and darkness. Who am I? Everyone has a question that they ask themselves over and over again throughout their lifetime. Who am I? What am I? How am I? Why am I? Where am I? These questions haunt me anytime I find a spare moment.
I have a lot of problems communicating with people. I find it hard to put words to what I’m feeling or what I’m thinking. Even when I do find a way to describe it, it’s often lost in translation. After a while, I just kind of give up trying to convey what I mean and I stay alone with my thoughts.
So, because of my tendency to either go to the extremes of checking out completely or winding up deep in self-isolation, I try and do these checks throughout the day. “Do I like me today? How am I feeling? What am I feeling? Am I hurt? Do I have to pee?” These random checks and random questions help keep me current in the moment and prevent me from shutting the outside world off.
Honestly, I’m afraid that I’ll stay quiet and to myself for too long and be unable to come back and communicate at all with people beyond typing. I’m so afraid of retreating deep into my psyche that I’ll never return that I’ll often throw myself into activities that I hate in order to stay on the look out for the next exciting thing that will force me to interact with others.
One day, I’ll be the only one left that I can communicate with and I damn well want to be able to like me when I do. Looking at myself now and working to improve, digging deep within myself to bring all that grossness that I feel, all that hidden away shame and the little diamonds of hope that glitter amongst the fear and self-loathing… These things are what I need to work on now, in order to like me. So I can look at what’s left and see the good instead of the bad or just take me as I am.
I have a random bruise on my knee that I have no idea how I got it. I almost wet myself because I wanted to read a book instead of toileting on schedule. I hit my head with my fist because I felt stupid about something. I wanted to talk to Charon about a thing but I don’t know how to explain it with words or pictures and I can’t find the right music.
I don’t know why I do a lot of the things I do or how I can change to get myself to a spot where I don’t feel like such a useless waffle. At the end of the day, I don’t know if I even care enough to try. I don’t know if it’s worth it to keep going or if things are going to get better. I know people say it will. Realistically, it can’t always get better. Sometimes, it’s going to get worse.
I can blame being Autistic on a lot of my problems. Having issues knowing when I have to pee, not being aware if something is wet or not by touch, not always controlling the tone or volume of my voice, my random twitches and body movements that I can’t really control, even thought processes can be blamed on me just being an Autistic person.
But that won’t get me anywhere. I can’t just shift blame for everything wrong with me on Autism, no matter how easy it would be to do so. I could give up right now and hardly a soul would blame me for living with Okaasan for the rest of my life and remaining on disability because Autism.
I can’t do that. I can’t use Autism as an excuse. I can use it as a reason. I’m Autistic, so I have difficulties being able to know when I have to pee and keeping that pee in if I don’t have immediate access to a toilet. I’m Autistic, so I have sensory issues that make it harder for me to process different sensations. I’m Autistic, so I have a problem controlling the vocal tones of my voice.
Being Autistic makes it harder for me to do a lot of things. It means that I won’t learn as well by using non-autistic learning methods. I won’t be able to function like someone who isn’t Autistic would be able to. And that’s fine. That’s just how I am.
There’s nothing wrong with being angry at how I was made sometimes either. I can be mad and sad and ashamed. I just can’t let that sort of thing rule my life. I have to eventually be okay with being just me and liking that.
Otherwise, I’ll never have a Life More Worth Living.
-The Sarcastic Autist