everything is fine

Illustration by Ron Evans

BY VERUCA SALTY

CW: childhood trauma, abuse.

Iknow I need to get my thoughts down on paper so I don’t lose my mind or introspect myself to death. I’ve always journaled because I’ve always felt REALLY big feelings. I recently started audio journaling because I had too many thoughts and didn’t always have paper or the ability to sit down and write it out. They turned into solo therapy sessions and I realized I was coming out of them with a better understanding of what was going on in my life and more compassion for myself.

When Ron Evans asked me to share some of my introspective insights, my immediate response was “great! I’d love to!” But now that I’m here, showing up and trying to get my thoughts on paper... well, I’m feeling a bit terrified. I’m bad at relating to people. Honestly, I’d bet good money that I’m not of this world. I’m a trainwreck of a human, flailing through space trying to make sense of what I’m seeing and doing and feeling. This is probably a good time to tell you guys that I was recently diagnosed as autistic (Autism Spectrum Disorder, level 1, formerly known as Asperger’s) at the age of 35.

That checks out.

My life has been a series of unfortunate events. Being undiagnosed autistic for my whole life (as well as undiagnosed adhd, ptsd, agoraphobia, dysthymia (fancy for super depressed a lot), general anxiety disorder, somatic symptom disorder (fancy for everything hurts all the time but apparently it’s all in my head), avoidant personality disorder, social anxiety disorder and panic disorder), had a pretty major impact. On top of all the mental health diagnoses, I was blessed with an above average IQ (all the better to overthink and drive myself mad with).

I grew up in the 80’s-90’s and autism wasn’t even really a thing. I was just a whiny, picky, overly sensitive little kid that needed to be beaten into submission. And I guess it worked. I’m real good at masking and pretending like everything is fine while simultaneously internal screaming and dying on the inside. My parents set me up to ignore my feelings and intuition by gaslighting me whenever I had a big emotional response. So that’s fun. Even now when I have a big feeling, my gut reaction is shame and selfcriticism. That helped set me up for major trust issues.

You see, I had one mentally/emotionally/physically abusive parent and one neglectful and aloof parent. I learned really early on that my feelings didn’t matter. Everything I felt was either ignored or gaslit and I was left feeling invalidated and ashamed for simply existing. Eventually I decided that my feelings were wrong (and unimportant) because they were never properly acknowledged. I stopped trusting myself as a child. Only now, as a middle aged person, am I starting to do the work to undo all the dysfunction. But I can tell you this, it’s real hard to trust anyone else when you can’t even trust your own feelings, intuition or gut instincts. So I basically trust no one. Super healthy defense mechanism I picked up.

With the help of decades of therapy and good friends, I’m slowly learning to like myself and dare I say, even love myself. Easy does it, let’s not get carried away. I hate myself a lot less; I can say that honestly. I often find myself amazed at people living out their dreams or even just generally enjoying their life. I can’t relate to that very much. Don’t get me wrong, there has been joy and beauty in my life. Maybe even more than most. That’s the trade off of having such low lows, you get to reach those high highs too. The problem is that my trauma prevents me from fully enjoying the beauty. I’m way too busy being hypervigilant to keep myself safe against any further threats to enjoy the moment. And yet, I still create art, I sing, I’m a parent raising two of the coolest kids I know, I do hard and scary things all the time.

I suppose I’m so used to feeling terrible that the threat of failing or looking like a fool doesn’t seem so bad. Either way, whether I fail or succeed, there’s a 99% chance I’ll be crying myself to sleep with my heating pad that I named Greg (who I also coincidentally call my boyfriend). It’s fine, I’m fine, everything is fine. Life is a cruel and tricky mistress. But I’ve found enough reasons to keep waking up everyday. Even if it’s just to share my bleak story with you. Maybe you’ll relate? Maybe you’ll think I’m a pathetic loser and that will help you feel better about your own life. Maybe you’ll feel compelled to share how you’re really feeling, leaving the facade of perfection behind and showing up in a genuine and real way. Whatever you do, I’ll be here, just a sad little aspie trying to find their way in the world. C