Finklestein
Member
I'm different. Always have been. My brain just works differently, not in any immediately obvious way (read: I am not in fact on the spectrum), but I react, think, and feel differently to most people; and when your mind ticks a different tock people react to you differently, rarely ever positively. So pretty much everywhere I go, I don't fit, even when I wanted to.
After coming out of a long-term relationship that was going nowhere (something I was only staying in because the alternative was loneliness), I fell into a relationship with a friend, and after two years I discovered that I was the other man, and that was just the tip of the insanity iceberg. She was a pathalogical liar, she had invented every detail of the life she had told me about, and for the entire five years we had known each other she had lied to me every single day.
After I walked away, I decided to take some time for myself, and I stepped back and looked at everything and I realised that I've never had a relationship that didn't end up either one-sided or turn out to be exploitative in some way. The overwhelming majority of my friendships haven't been much different. I don't want it to be true, but I feel like the most charitable thing I can say is that people tolerate me, they don't necessarily like me. Certainly feels that way when I start so much of the conversations and the get-togethers. People don't often remember me. I'm not the sort of person people invite over on a whim. Even the majority of my immediate family deal with me as a matter of courtesy rather than any kind of fondness. I am well aware that I am imperfect, but that doesn't mean I don't try, and what I get back in turn. . .
People don't call up out of the blue with offers of fun times. I have a hard enough time with social stuff when I'm the one organising. I want to be the sort of person who others want around, because they're fun or funny and make them feel good about themselves, but clearly I'm not.
So maybe it's my fault. But what do I do? People talk about social skills like they're obvious things, but they aren't really. We like to think that it's simple: "Don't pull down your pants and crap on your host's dining table." We fill volumes over broad strokes but live and die by the tiniest details. Details that we take for granted, as though if you understand the obvious things everything else just comes naturally. It quickly becomes patronising, and I get to feeling like if I ever just relax and be myself then sooner or later I'm going to ruin everything. One word, one pause, a raised eyebrow, something and that's it.
I know this isn't entirely rational, and yet, I wouldn't call myself depressed. I am well aware that depression isn't all crying in bed and moping around in the same clothes for days on end. But it's more like the time I realised that my migraines weren't random they were due to the things I was eating. Maybe part of my brain is blowing things all out of proportion, doesn't mean I'm not a freak, doesn't mean it's not my fault, just means there has to be something I can do about it and I don't have to spend the rest of my life being alone. The two are not mutually exclusive, and even if I am willing to seek professional help, being counselled or medicated into being happy with how things are is not what I am after.
This all came crashing down a few weeks back when I was discussing some health problems in a group I had thought of as a safe space, the reaction I got made it clear that what I had been saying was not being explicitly understood, more parsed for keywords to respond to. Something that reminds me of too many other similar scenarios: people looking for what they want to see and then making up the details that reinforce their biases. Story of my life.
This is my third attempt to get this off my chest. Elsewhere, the previous two times I was perfunctorily banned in minutes, which has me starting to entertain the notion that I am in some way cursed. Not something I'm used to thinking, but if the shoe fits.
After coming out of a long-term relationship that was going nowhere (something I was only staying in because the alternative was loneliness), I fell into a relationship with a friend, and after two years I discovered that I was the other man, and that was just the tip of the insanity iceberg. She was a pathalogical liar, she had invented every detail of the life she had told me about, and for the entire five years we had known each other she had lied to me every single day.
After I walked away, I decided to take some time for myself, and I stepped back and looked at everything and I realised that I've never had a relationship that didn't end up either one-sided or turn out to be exploitative in some way. The overwhelming majority of my friendships haven't been much different. I don't want it to be true, but I feel like the most charitable thing I can say is that people tolerate me, they don't necessarily like me. Certainly feels that way when I start so much of the conversations and the get-togethers. People don't often remember me. I'm not the sort of person people invite over on a whim. Even the majority of my immediate family deal with me as a matter of courtesy rather than any kind of fondness. I am well aware that I am imperfect, but that doesn't mean I don't try, and what I get back in turn. . .
People don't call up out of the blue with offers of fun times. I have a hard enough time with social stuff when I'm the one organising. I want to be the sort of person who others want around, because they're fun or funny and make them feel good about themselves, but clearly I'm not.
So maybe it's my fault. But what do I do? People talk about social skills like they're obvious things, but they aren't really. We like to think that it's simple: "Don't pull down your pants and crap on your host's dining table." We fill volumes over broad strokes but live and die by the tiniest details. Details that we take for granted, as though if you understand the obvious things everything else just comes naturally. It quickly becomes patronising, and I get to feeling like if I ever just relax and be myself then sooner or later I'm going to ruin everything. One word, one pause, a raised eyebrow, something and that's it.
I know this isn't entirely rational, and yet, I wouldn't call myself depressed. I am well aware that depression isn't all crying in bed and moping around in the same clothes for days on end. But it's more like the time I realised that my migraines weren't random they were due to the things I was eating. Maybe part of my brain is blowing things all out of proportion, doesn't mean I'm not a freak, doesn't mean it's not my fault, just means there has to be something I can do about it and I don't have to spend the rest of my life being alone. The two are not mutually exclusive, and even if I am willing to seek professional help, being counselled or medicated into being happy with how things are is not what I am after.
This all came crashing down a few weeks back when I was discussing some health problems in a group I had thought of as a safe space, the reaction I got made it clear that what I had been saying was not being explicitly understood, more parsed for keywords to respond to. Something that reminds me of too many other similar scenarios: people looking for what they want to see and then making up the details that reinforce their biases. Story of my life.
This is my third attempt to get this off my chest. Elsewhere, the previous two times I was perfunctorily banned in minutes, which has me starting to entertain the notion that I am in some way cursed. Not something I'm used to thinking, but if the shoe fits.