Not feeling like the “love can conquer all Autistic Lady at the moment”. I shared this on my FB this morning:
“Okay, here it is. I’ve been beating around the bush for too long, hoping that some words would help, wishing for a bit of encouragement that I could hang on to, hoping for words I could believe in, but they just haven’t been there. Instead, I have found so much that has just hurt and discouraged me. So the upshot is that I believe in love, so much. I believe it is – or should be – the strongest force in the universe. Just apparently not for me. I have spent five years now, trying to BE love, trying to give love without asking to everyone, and most especially those who my heart has – and continues to – love most. I believe in love. But I have tried to just love, and give, and care for the people my heart adores, and wishes so much to have as part of my life. And what I have found seems to be only that after my very best efforts, that they are largely unwanted. That the people I want most in my life don’t want me in theirs, some have all along had little to no use for me. Others once seemed to, but some have drifted away, while others have told me they loved me one day, and been inexplicably gone the next. I just can’t do it anymore. I have so little understanding of how the things I am doing are perceived, nor of how the love I give is somehow undesirable.
So I grew up with a mother who told me she hated me. She said that everyone – even God hated me. And admittedly there have been times, even lately, that I wonder of the truth in that. Okay maybe not hated, but in their inability to truly love me. I have never felt loved. I have never had a party, never been celebrated, barely ever been invited to be with people outside of work or “all-inclusive” situations. I have always been the one at the fringes of the crowd looking in. However, I have only been looking in with eyes of love. I love loving how people do the things they do. I love acts of love. I love cuteness in people, more even than cuteness in puppies and kittens. Not cute in looks, but the cute, silly little things they do. Those things are in everyone, but they touch me, often to the point of tears. I enjoy people SO SO much. I love being around the people I love. I love sharing with them, laughing with them… but I can’t. I have grown so full of fear, that every encounter with the people I love most becomes full of dread that I am on the verge of losing them… because largely that seems true. And I have no ability to know when or why. And nothing in this world hurts more than to want only to love, and not have that ability.”
So, what I wouldn’t give for society to have some understanding of autism. I want to be able to be me, with all my bumbling, with all my overflowing enthusiasm, with all my fears and doubts, and wanting reassurance, and wishing people would say what they mean, and wishing I could just ask what they mean when they don’t. I want to be able to love in MY own way, and not be accused of stalking – and not, years later, when it should be obvious it wasn’t true, have some still wonder if it was, and think of me only in that context. I want people to look at who I am, not at the awkward things I do. I want them to look deeper, and to understand what matters, and to realize that all the right things are in me, even if they are accompanied by a bunch of social missteps and misunderstandings. But I don’t know how to get there on my own, and when you ask “them” to help, “they” act like you are imposing on them, like you are being pushy. They don’t understand that the moment or two extra they might spend on understanding you doesn’t begin to come close to the hours of effort – seemingly in vain – that you have put toward trying to understand them.