I once wrote about how it was not unrealistic, to think that there was no such thing as an un-traumatised autistic. About how so many of us have known bullying and persecution simply for being different. Not even always for what we may have said or done, but often for simply standing out; in all the ways that we didn't even know we were. How just simply being, was so often an excuse to be attacked or punished. That our very existence, even as hard as we tried to mask, whether we knew that was what we were doing or not, was the cause of so much pain.
All the scars we carry from misreading situations. Or from believing in something, or someone, and being burnt as a consequence. All the times we've tried to stand up for ourselves, or as often as not for others, and been dismissed and ridiculed. All the misjudgements and disbelieve and times when our intent and purpose have been seen in the ways that were never, ever, meant. The sheer inability for others to see us as we are, or to judge us accordingly. But, always to seem to want to see the worst and to base everything else on that.
But the more I learn and understand about being autistic. The more I realise that so much of my trauma and the scars that were left, came not just from this overt pain, but from the covert well-meaning of others as well. From my parents and relatives, from friends and teachers. From all the advice and instruction I have received over the years that was meant to shape me in the right way. As a child, to teach me how to grow up, how to behave and act. What was expected and what wasn't. And then, as an adult, how I was supposed to be and how a successful life, with me in it, was supposed to look. All the rules I was supposed to learn, all the codes I was supposed to follow. How to act, how to speak, what to feel, when to feel it. What I was supposed to do and how I was supposed to be.
Not in any unusual way. Not in any way that you weren't supposed to raise a child, well a normal child anyway. That's what makes this so covert. If you were trying to do this to a child knowing that they were autistic, then it's overt abuse. It is ABA, it is infantilising and punishing a child for always failing to become something, that they had no more chance of becoming than a cat has of becoming a dog. But for those of us who didn't know we were autistic. It was simply the constant hammering of the world trying, without even realising it, to fit a round peg into a square hole and all the pain and disappointment that came from their failure to come even close.
For me, what made this worse, was that it wasn't as if I didn't know that I was different, not in my heart, but that I thought that I shouldn't be. That I should be able to learn what I was being taught, that I should be able to follow the guidance. That I wasn't any different really from anyone else and so if I failed to act in the right way, or react the way I should, for that matter, then it was my fault. All the patient sighs and familiar looks, simply became just another reinforcement of my failure. Even being told off for the simplest things, became a reminder that something that I should have been able to do, was beyond me and always for the only reason that ever made any sense; that I was broken, that it was my fault somehow.
Is it any wonder that so much of my life has been about trying to justify myself in the light of this, of trying to become that "good dog". Of judging myself against an impossible standard. A constant lurching from one bad to choice to another, and always because I thought they were the right ones. And for each new failure and inability to even come close, another scar, another reminder of what I wasn't. Further proof that my self-esteem was right to be so low. Of how I was such a failure and a bad person. That I was never going to be a proper son or brother or friend. Because I couldn't even be what I was supposed to be, let alone what I should become.
Looking back, I can't help thinking about how much of my life I spent living this way; of trying not to repeat the sins of my past. Of not repeating the actions or behaviour that led to those past failures and trauma. Of, in fact, all the effort I put in to not being myself. Because that, I realise now, was what I was trying to do. I was that round peg and trying to hammer myself into the square hole. Because everything I had learnt had taught me to think that this was how I had to be. That this was how you grew. And in so many ways, I can't help feeling angry about this. About the wasted years, about the scars I carry that were never my fault. About the way I was brought up, even though none of it was ever meant, but only ever well-meant.
The big disadvantage of being AuDHD is that some of the traits conflict with each other, the classic example being desiring more structure and order in your life but being completely incapable of creating and keeping that order.
This is probably a weird thing to crowdsource for because I'm sure it's personal and dependent on a lot of factors, but.... wondering about autistic and AuDHD experiences with psychiatric meds.
I took anti-depressants in high school and felt like they did nothing but rob me of my memory and after my ADHD diagnosis in my early 20s stimulants which worked well, but I couldn't handle when they wore off without meltdowns.
I have been very resistant to the idea of medication as an intervention ever since. Even after I had my breakdown and landed in the hospital, I stubbornly haggled with my doctor to be on the least medication possible and we arrived on something that struck me as relatively low risk. (I can't remember the name now, but it was an ADHD med that has another use as a blood pressure med but it's mostly prescribed for ADHD). I didn't stay on it after the hospital visit because it got stuck in preauthorization hell with my insurance and... I didn't want to be on meds anyway.
When I met my new PCP after that, I wasn't terribly impressed with her because at the two appointments I had with her when I was asking OTHER medical related questions... she immediately started trying to attribute physical symptoms to mental illness and push anti-depressants on me and when I refused and set the boundary that the decision for meds would be made with the guidance of my therapist, and if we needed her to prescribe I'd ask her.... I could tell I was getting the stare that conveyed she thought I was being defiant.
Mostly in my life, I've just coped with cannabis and been just fine...
But, my brain has been a little bit extra spicy in the past week or so.... and I find myself wondering if my adamant "no meds, please" stance is the right one to take or if I'm just paranoid because of past negative experiences when I was too young to really advocate for myself effectively.
I haven't posted in awhile. I'm feeling so sad these days. My brother died, my last original family member. My parents died when I was in my 20s. I feel a strange aloneness.
I look at my life... what have I accomplished? And why does that matter?
I have no friends offline. I'm so disillusioned.
Empty. I want to find peace. I've not felt consistently a feeling of peace ever in my life.
No one would ever guess how hard it has been.
I haven't even understood how hard it has been for me.
Always struggling for emotional regulation, but outwardly seeming calm and in control (usually). Inwardly I'm always struggling. Always. What a paradox.
I'm tired of trying to understand why my life has gone as it has... why I was so misunderstood by mt family, why it has been such a struggle.
I'm weary of it all. I want to rest.
Why does this song speak for me so much? I want to sail "into the west"... off to a distant shore. I want to find some comfort somewhere... just some peace.
Into the West - from Lord of the Rings
Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
The night is falling
You have come to journey's end
Sleep now
And dream of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across the distant shore
Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
All Souls pass
Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time
Don't say
We have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again
And you'll be here in my arms