Feeling Autistic.

I found this on Quora by Angela Bingham. It tells perfectly what it feels like having autism.We care, we have feelings and emotions,too.

I care. I care very much sometimes.

I want people to like me, think positively of me. I try to be as nice to others as I wish they would be to me.

But, if I don’t understand or see passive aggressive unspoken ‘cues’ and hints, I can’t do a darn thing about it.

I can spend time with someone, think it went just fine, have fun, then wonder why they have’t gotten back to me, asked me to do anything, and ignore anything I send them. I excuse it as ‘they are busy’, and try not to be hurt by it, until it’s just clear they are mad at me and I have no clear idea why, embarrassed by me, and flat out don’t like me.

Then… I cry. Quietly. Soundlessly. And not in front of anyone, I hate people seeing that. But, it hurts. Over and over. And wonder why I am here, what good is it, how can I be so stupid, so bad at understanding when I am trying so hard.

On the other side, apparently I’ve missed cues guys were somewhat interested in me, thought they were teasing and making fun of me. My husband was direct, and I understood. But I miss good and bad impressions.

So, yeah, I care. I feel embarrassed realizing the me that is me is not what people seem to see. They seem to have some straw-man version of me, a projection of their ideas of people and personal motivations that do not match me or my actions, bit that cannot be fought. Perception, initial ideas, all cannot be easily fought, especially if I don’t know where the battle is, or over what.

But as I get older, the amount of time and energy I can spend worrying about it, or taking steps to meet unspoken expectations dwindles. But, I think this is common with age, not autism. I’m tired. Physically, mentally. Knowing you’re being misunderstood all the time and seen through some mystery lens no one shares is, well, defeating. So, I am tired.

I guess I kind of give up. I've tried to be a friend in 5 states, to a myriad of people, for almost 50 years. I feel like a ghost, furniture, a tool people like when useful, but otherwise, other people are more fun and cooler to go see or invite places. I always get traded up for better, and can’t fight it anymore. I’m just me. I can’t be anyone else.