I Am Autistic—Say The Word

One afternoon in April, i was upset, so i wrote a series of Vaguebook posts, and because i write when i am upset……and i mainly write to educate the general public about what it is like to be a middle aged adult who is Autistic so people will understand, get us, and accept us, i want to compile my vaguebooks all into a blog post.

What is it that helps flowers to blossom and bloom to all their glory? It is not yelling at them to grow already, and standing over them and forcing their peddles to unfold when they aren’t ready to unfold. And to be callous and cold with them. They need patience, actual warmth and affection, to be slowly and lovingly cultivated, and they need water, sunshine, and food.

For me, it is not being harsh and critical of me. And cold and callous. For me, i grow when i know i am truly accepted and when i am okay to be me. When it is okay for me to say “I am Autistic.” When i know my feelings, both happy and sad, and the ones that are painful too, are truly validated.

I don’t write to be mean and covert. I write whenever i cannot verbally say how i am feeling. Post One. “Trigger warning for the word stupid and the R word—and for also graphic depictions of child abuse There is a valid reason why i have a chip on my shoulder as an adult. It comes from growing up being told and made to feel like i was all wrong all the time, every day, 24/7 that i didn’t have a right to my opinions or to to say what i felt that how i felt, and i, was just too weird everything i ever did or said was wrong, stupid and not good enough being called the R word all the fucking time, not just by the schoolkids but even by my own siblings being silenced, muzzled, and having my feelings, and me, always dismissed, invalidated and erased being treated like my autism was/is a behavior or that i use my autism as a shield, crutch, etc. being told wrongly so that i was just a lazy, spoiled, and selfish rotten brat, when so many things were and still are difficult for me to do being told also wrongly so that i never appreciated what people did for me, when i did, but just did not know how the fuck to show it knowing my own father actually hated my guts for the way i was even though i could not help the way i was because i was BORN Autistic imagine if you will what it is like to go to school and have no safe zone there where you can be you and you cannot get away from all of the scary sensory stimuli and you cannot be you or get away from all of the unwanted scary sensory stimuli at home either because your you is too wrong, too weird, to matter you are expected to, forced to act a certain way, and if you don’t, you are yelled down, scolded, and BELITTLED
all you can do is just go to your room all the time because that is at least a little bit of a safe zone for you always being talked over and interrupted when i try to talk and express myself yes, they did that too and then they would interrupt to finish all of my sentences for me, not knowing what i was REALLY going to say close spaces, having to be forced to endure being kissed, or having to stand too close to others in a line being beaten on my legs and buttocks growing up beaten so hard it left welts that would raise up and bleed having my hair and ears pulled so hard my head hurt loud men yelling especially when angry and my music–when i can’t even listen to my rock music because the family music is country, so i have to listen to that or i get in trouble for that too a fear so bad i used to have to always memorize the station my dad had the car and family radio on, so he wouldn’t find out i was listening to the rock stations my dad, brothers and sisters always pissed, always irritated with me i have bad flashbacks to all of this all the time so that today, when anyone can present to me as angry,

even if  they aren’t, i am hypersensitive to it

i still take what people say and do wrong all the time because of all of the hurts of my childhood because i think i am being chastised and muzzled yet again I have Complex PTSD thanks to what i went through then losing my independence again, losing my ability to drive and do for myself after having my independence for 25 years, where, 22 of them i was able to drive has brought me back to how i felt as a child, and that is how i feel now, like i am that child again who had no rights and now i feel as if don’t have any rights again anymore…… “ Post Two “I am not abnormal. I am Autistic. There is nothing wrong with me or the word Autistic. I say the word. People need to say the word. AUTISTIC. PLEASE ACCEPT ME. “ Post Three “My special interests are not obsessions or addictions. They are my coping mechanisms and there is nothing wrong with me having these special interests.” Post Four “I write and tell my story so that people will understand.” Post Five “When i yell because of the noise outside it is because that noise is actually causing me pain. People yell when in pain. People yell and cry when they hurt.” Post Six “When i say that i cannot do something it is because i truly do not have the ability or the spoons to be able to do that thing. It is not that i don’t want to do whatever, it is that some things i lack the ability to do. Sometimes i have the spoons to do some things. Other things i never have the spoons for. Please understand and accept that.” In closing, my Autism is not used as a shield, crutch, nor do i mean to use it as a means to throw it in people’s faces. I often do not have the words available to me to be able to articulate what it is that i want to say, especially when i can sense i am not being heard. So, out comes the word Autistic. And i cannot hide my Autism, or take it on and off like it’s a coat. I don’t write to bad mouth people. I do not write about my family to bad mouth them either. I write because the family abuse happened. Because i want to let others know they aren’t alone, and how to spot the signs of abuse, and i want my family to finally read what i write and say “OMG, i did do those awful things!” Because i have no family to turn to, and my mom and one nice sister are both financially unable to help me more than they can, i am in a vulnerable situation where if i do not have my caregiver to help me, i am literally left to fend for myself—-and i have been left without caregivers in the past—–and that was so terrifying for me that it has caused me to become even more hypervigilant about making sure the people i love and who matter to me, always understand and get me—-so they won’t throw me away too,like so many, many others have done. I live in constant fear of this, and when i have any disagreement with my friends, i instantly go into a panic mode so severe, thinking they’re angry, and hate me, and it often makes things even worse. I wrote this into a blog because sometimes i can put things better into words by talking, but other times, like now, i can do it better by writing it. That has nothing to do with anyone but my own spoon level at the moment. I have not had very many spoons ever since the election, to be honest. Yes, i am extremely scared about the current state of our government now, too. Advertisements Share this:
Like this:Like Loading... Related