This is a thing about being autistic. NeuroClastic had an article about 50 ways society gaslights autistics. I experienced a different one yesterday, but it's happened to me a lot. This is informational for allies and an #AskingAutistics and #NeuroLurkers to see if others relate.
I was doing something internal, and it was glorious. I mean, I doubt most people's brains work this way, but I really don't know. I was totally in my mind, oblivious to the world around me, rearranging all these moving parts visually in my head. I see my thoughts. (cont)
I can explain it best by saying that it's like dreaming in that I'm not seeing it with my eyes, and the things I "see" are like a coded language. I can use this "system" to bring thousands of disconnected things to working memory and arrange them to make sense of them. (cont)
And it's like... rhapsodic when it happens. It clears out and makes sense of all the thousands of pages of information I've consumed in some monotropic rabbit hole. I was making a case in my head that was just... my peak. I rarely can get there. Then, I felt the air shift. (cont)
I felt this stifling derision, this condescending disappointment that shattered this beautiful thing I was building in my head. Then, the tired sign. I looked up and a loved one was just staring at me. To them, I was just sitting there staring. They shook their head (cont)
Me: what?
Them: it's like, you're just so lost. Vacant.
I can't tell you how much that hurts. I can't tell you how much it hurts to be thought of as something so much less than what I am. I wish there was even a way to communicate how much I miss because I am performing. (cont)
Them: it's like, you're just so lost. Vacant.
I can't tell you how much that hurts. I can't tell you how much it hurts to be thought of as something so much less than what I am. I wish there was even a way to communicate how much I miss because I am performing. (cont)
I'm not lost, I'm not vacant. I'm composing a symphony in a language that is innate to me, and I'm happy to be doing it. I feel that disappointment to my marrow. It makes me want to be alone in a cave so that I can be myself without monitoring how socially acceptable my face is.
I WANT to socialize, but I can't. I can't make anyone believe how my mind works without seeming like I have special snowflake syndrome. People just don't believe it. If you're a parent to an autistic child, though, please know that we are aware of your disappointment. It kills.
