Today I thought I’m going to chronicle a little were I’m coming from, where I am right now and where I am going to. Of course all this deeply influences my point of view so I find it only fair you can take it in consideration when you read my words. Also while this story is of course my own many of these threads interwoven to be the fabric of my life are not very unusual. I read about my struggles frequently in accounts of other people who are substantially different. The more their differences overlap with mine the more it feels as if our lives have been eerily similar. So where do I come from? I’m afraid I don’t remember much about this. You see like many emotionally abused people I disassociated from myself most of the time. I have not recovered much from my memories. So this is one of many aspect of why I am without roots. I have to extrapolate from who I am today and how I feel to uncover my own past. Some facts I know like I’d know them if it was someone elses life. I know I have apparently been a low maintenance newborn sleeping through the night and a favourite of the nurses. That abruptly changed when my parents took me home. I’m pretty sure this change of environment was upsetting me and I can vividly imagining my parents gaslighting my emotions from day one. So I didn’t sleep through the night any more, I didn’t drink properly to the point that my mother had to stop breastfeeding me and even had to undergo medical treatment for all the unconsumed milk. I was apparently a constant whiner which reportedly abruptly stopped at the age of three. From around this time I have one of my few actual memories. Like most of them it’s more an intense moment of emotion rather than an actual story. I have been sitting on the kitchen table and my ever absent father was absent while sitting at the same table. A skill I have inherited. I think before my brief moment of remembrance I must have told him something. Maybe a story from kindergarten or what I thought about a story. I only remember his laughter and my reaction to it. My father uses this laughter often when it comes to what is important to me. All kinds of invalidation destilled in one laughter. So much condescension, so much ignorance and so much distance. I was deeply hurt but apparently I already knew better than to show my pain. That was the moment I decided not to treat him as a father but a hostile stranger I decided I did not want to hear this laughter any more so I’d do what I could to not share anything of notice with him. So that was the end of the relationship with my father. Continue reading
short post to pat myself on the back for having managed to unlock the high science of using tags, editing share buttons and truncating posts for the home page. yay, go me 🙂 unfortunately one headline has left me in protest but im happy overall. hopefully more time to post in the future. there is an idea in my mind an one half baked post waiting to be shared with the world. 🙂
I very much agree it should not be shamefull to be yourself. Its very sad that apparently we have the choice between being loved for who we are not or being shunned by many people for who we are.
I can understand. Being a parent isn’t easy, especially being a parent to a special needs child. You put in a lot of effort and you feel you deserve a little credit. So what’s wrong with posting something innocent like this?
I had a very interesting conversation not long ago with a fellow autistic adult. I observed (with some envy, I might add) that she seems very fluid in social interactions and doesn’t appear to have the difficulties I do. She told me that she puts forth a great effort to maintain that appearance and that it is truly exhausting, but then she told me the worst of it. She told me she feels no one loves her for who she is because no one actually knows the real person she is hiding inside. Then she observed that I seem to have close relationships in which people truly do know…
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