Imagine not being able to talk to your friends when you wanted to or needed to.
Imagine not being able to recognize if someone is friendly or bored or rude or hostile.
Imagine not being able to cry out if you were hurt or ask for help when you needed it.
Imagine not being able to say anything, not because you had nothing to say, but because you physically could not move your lips.
Most of these things are fairly common feelings, but as someone with autism, these are daily realities. I’m sure that at some point, most people have felt like they couldn’t talk to their friends for whatever reason. I’m sure most people have probably droned on about a topic that others in the room find relatively boring. I’m sure most people have resisted asking for help because they don’t want to seem needy or they want to be independent. And I’m sure most people have been unable to find the words to express themselves in times of grief or intense emotion.
Some people say that everyone has autism to an extent. This statement is true in the sense that everyone has a little bit of experience with almost anything. For example, you may experience some pain or discomfort in your back from lifting a heavy box, but that discomfort is on a small scale compared to someone who fractured a vertebrae. I guess my point is that if you don’t have autism, you can understand to some degree what it feels like, but the extent of it is not something I can adequately explain to someone without autism.
How could I possibly explain the paralytic feeling that creates a wall between my need to communicate and my ability to do so? How could I help you understand the tangible density of thought that prevents the formation of vocal expression? How could I express the reality of emotions cascading through my body without physically reacting to them?
I don’t know if there is a good way to explain autism. I don’t know if I could paint a picture of it or draw a diagram or even make a video of how it feels. And my autism may or may not be the same as someone else’s autism. My experiences may or may not be applicable to how someone else feels in the exact same situation. I do know that when you look normal, everyone expects you to act normal- to act like they do. When you have depression or autism or dyslexia or some other unseeable condition, everyone questions when you cannot do what they feel you should be able to do.
I call this blog autism thoughts, not because all of my thoughts are autistic, but because autism is real. It’s not something that goes away because I have learned how to cope or blend in or appear to be “cured”. I talk about autism and depression and suicide and gender identity and anxiety because I need people to understand that it is real. I need someone to understand that it doesn’t just go away with positive thinking or effective therapy or religious convictions.
Yes, it gets better. You learn and you grow and you cope and you live, but it doesn’t go away. I still have and will always have autism thoughts and suicide thoughts and depression thoughts and gender identity thoughts. That doesn’t mean it is hopeless or I shouldn’t keep trying to live better with these thoughts. It just means that it is okay to not be okay sometimes. It is okay to struggle. It’s okay to be autistic and depressed and anything else. And most of all, it’s okay to be me.
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