Provisional Humanity
My whole life, everything has been conditional. One minor slip will ruin everything. Just so long as I’m good, as long as I can correctly guess what people want from me even as that seems to change with the wind, as long as I do nothing, express no emotion, show nothing of who I am, maybe a person will accept me. Provisionally. Until they don’t.
The rejection is there from the start, always, it seems. This untempered disgust. But I try to play along. I make mistakes. Eventually I get tired and the mistakes increase. It adds up, and becomes this track record of failure at being anything but me. And it’s all my fault.
I just… am tired of using my every bit of energy to erase myself, so as to protect another person’s sense of normality. To avoid shaming others by association with the person I actually am.
I can’t deal with conditions. I never could. I’ve always been bad at it, and I don’t feel like anyone should have to be good. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t stand the rage and disgust and contempt, always at my heel. I can’t hold the dragon at bay. I’m too tired. I’m done.
I just need to get a grip on who I am, and… stop placating. I can be kind and earnest and interested, and I can have empathy for others without playing that game. I shouldn’t be expected to. Nobody should. It’s cruel. It’s dehumanizing. And it’s hateful. And it’s wrong.
I know my autism is all swirled up in my gender and sexuality issues as well. It’s hard to unpick, but there’s a lot of stuff to reject in there. A lot of conditions to have to meet, to avoid being broken and wrong and therefore undeserving of basic compassion or acceptance.
And it’s so hard to get around to the other side of that. For every epiphany and every good day, there’s a backpedal. All the memories are so visceral, the emotions so physical. And most aren’t even mine. They beat me down. Maybe they were right, I should have, should have…
When the spray is off, I can make such progress. And yes, I am carving some handholds so I don’t get swept away entirely. I’m making some small progress, lately. But, Christ, man. It’s a whole lot. And it’s so exhausting. And I have to ignore practically every perspective but one
I’m… I think there’s still something in here, in me, that I can do, to give back to the world. It’s not a total waste. But it may be a while yet.
I just need to keep working on this relationship with myself. Be the friend I need. It all starts there.
Also I want to loop back and stress and affirm that I do have several people out there who do accept and care about me. Who have all been so much help lately. I couldn’t have made it this far without them. I don’t mean to blot them out in all this. I’m just writhing here.
I guess I kind of just wish they weren’t all on the other side of a screen somewhere.