With my not so (new thoughts) of being autistic. I know that this affects almost all aspects of my life. No diagnose for thirty years for myself and my siblings, have almost hit an unbearable conundrum. In my self-diagnosis I try to reevaluate my surroundings, which I do quite a bit. Documenting my real life experiences and what is like is the only way I might be able to break-through the idiocy of my life. Maybe find normalcy. (Most likely doubtful) Slight trigger warning for anyone that is sensitive.
As a child and even a baby, I realized I cried a lot more than a neuro-typical child. I would throw ‘tantrums’ and intentionally try to hurt myself when everything felt like too much. The whole world feels like the sensation of knives jabbing into my skin. When someone embraces me for a hug. Well…hugs were basically my kryptonite. The sensation on my skin of not being able to get away, is unbearable. I would scream and kick and push away when someone tried to hug me. I would even do it to my own mom. This is not socially acceptable. Why is everyone giving them all the time when it feels so hurtful to me? Why am I forced to hug people that I don’t want to? Why is the sensation on the top of my skin unbearable?
In my attempts of trying to function in this world, I would feel parts of me breaking. Because, that is how this world runs. As a child, I did my best to observe what was going on around me. In that way, I succeeded too much. Even I don’t know who I am anymore. Desensitized to the whole world. Trapped inside my mind. I fooled everyone, and even myself. I was afraid the world knew who I truly was, they would hate me. Because I would see it all the time as a child. When I would be forced to do something that physically would cause me harm. It would still happen continually, and repeatedly. Even when I would either non-verbally or verbally communicate it hurts me. Over time when I would try to communicate it hurts me, and no one listens. It ultimately results in a meltdown.
My meltdowns have been less and less over time. But I think I just have masked it all so much that I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t think I ever did. My meltdowns are uncontrollable. They almost feel like a seizure. When someone has a seizure you have to wait it out until its down. My hands aren’t mind, and I don’t know what they are doing anymore. I’m screaming, I am hitting myself in the head. I am not a harm to anyone but myself. I feel alone, and no one understand me. The weight feels so unbearable. It honestly feels like if the big bang was a sensation, it is happening in my mind.
Yet again, here I am. I am misdiagnosed. I am over dramatic. I am making things up. I am fake. Yet everyone around me acts like everything is normal. It is not normal. It will never be normal to me. Meltdowns leave me exhausted, and even more desensitized than before. As a teenager began to self-harm to cope. Because if I am feeling pain continually, and I finally come down. I have to feel something again.