My Autistic Truth: More than ANYTHING I Deeply Long to be Understood

I (like all people) want to be seen, loved, and appreciated for who I really am, but I don't know if anyone in this world will ever REALLY see me.

Welcome back to another Founding Member Friday!

Every other Friday, a post like this will be brought to you by and for our Founding members.

The first part of this post is FREE to everyone here on Substack, and the ending of the post is ONLY available to our Founding Members (as thanks for the extra support they give to make this blog possible).

We currently have eleven founding members. I won’t put them on the spot today, but you know who you are. I can’t thank you enough for your support.

My readers have told me they think I'm "awesome," but I don't believe that about myself. 

That's because I, like far too many NeuroDivergent People, have been traumatized to the point of being unable to see my own worth. 

I want so much to be helpful, be useful, and make the lives of the people I touch better than when I found them. I want to feel like I am not a burden or an annoyance to the people I care about. 

I (like all people) want to be seen, loved, and appreciated for who I really am, but I don't know if anyone in this world will ever REALLY see me. 

I've done so much work trying to understand people around me because I deeply long to be understood. 

I used to think that if I could decode other people and show them I understood them, they would care enough to get to know and understand me, but lately, this hope has faded. 

Online, where I shine, things seem rosy because I can communicate in text (how I think best), and the people who come to me do so with genuine curiosity. Unfortunately, the real world is more complicated. 

In the face-to-face world, I hesitate to share because I cannot tell who cares to hear what I think (because most people I encounter do not wish to know my feelings - and will react poorly when I share them).

I've been rejected, scolded, and misunderstood so many times I've lost count. 

Each scolding, invalidation, and piece of unsolicited advice adds up to many microscopic wounds that (if they were physical) would cover my entire body from head to toe. Tiny pinpricks, individually nothing to worry about, but in collection, the repeated rejections would be enough to leave me bleeding out on the floor. 

I am wounded. I am broken. 

I believe in others, but I don't believe in myself. I see the worth in others, but I cannot see the value in myself, and because of this wound, I do not treat myself with the same kindness that I give others. 

I DIDN'T KNOW MY VALUE when I started this blog seven years ago. 

Even today, I still struggle to know my worth and speak up for my needs. 

Seven years ago, before I started this blog, I believed so little in my value that I felt the world would be better off without me (a thought that comes to me less often these days).

I've only grown into and learned my skills and value over the past seven years because you've told me that my work has been helpful and valuable to your life. 

This blog has given meaning and purpose to a life that had lost its will. You have saved me (because you see something in me that I do not see in myself), and I am forever grateful. 

I can easily look around and see the values and skills of the people around me, but my perception of self has been tainted by repeated mockings, scoldings, and critiques of all the people who were "just looking out for me."

After years of being repeatedly told that my choices, feelings, and what I want are wrong, it grew more arduous to stand firm in speaking up for what I want and need. 

"You're too sensitive," "Those are your feelings. They're not my problem," and "Keep it to yourself" will forever haunt me, stifling and suffocating me whenever I try to share myself with the world. 

I'm too much for most people. 

I'm too loud. Too hyper. Too direct. Too silly. Too sensitive. Too emotional. Too annoying. - or so I've been told many times.

Because I'm seen as "too much" in many situations, I often have to turn things down, muting myself, keeping my true thoughts and opinions hidden. 

I want to share. I yearn to share. More than anything, I want to speak up and connect, but I don't. 

When someone shares a story I can relate to, I become excited (because I often struggle to relate to people) and want to share, but my way of connecting, "bringing up a relatable story to show understanding," will be seen as making things about me.

Instead, I convince myself that "nobody wants to hear what I have to say." Taking a few breaths, trying to ignore the familiar pain sharply stabbing at the middle of me. 

To avoid crying, I lie to myself, as I often do, that I'm "better off keeping it all in."

Because I don’t believe I’m lovable (or even likable) it is easier and safer to hide myself away, but at what cost? 

Is it worth the work, effort, and risk of putting myself out there?