"No Sunglasses in Class!"- An Autistic Story of Systemic Gaslighting
They Called It 'Being Good.' I Now Know It Was Self-Abandonment. I Was Trained to Ignore My Needs From a Young Age. Here's How I Stopped the Cycle of Self-Abandonment and Abuse.
Throughout my life, I struggled with self-abandonment, which impacted my ability to hear and listen to my own inner compass.
In childhood, I was trained to ignore my own inner voice (including my own wants, dreams, hopes, and desires).
Often, I would push my own needs aside, because growing up, when I tried to explain and advocate for those needs, the people around me would often tell me I was "too sensitive," "making things up," or flat out "wrong" about what I said I needed or wanted (and what was good for me).
Surrounded by people who claimed to know "what was best for me," while simultaneously insisting that I, myself, "didn't know" what was best for me, led me to believe my own judgment was faulty (and not to be trusted).
Due to the social equivalent of (often unintentional) gaslighting (by people in power who may have had the best intentions and claimed to "only want what was best for me"), I learned to gaslight myself, doubting and frequently dismissing my own reality.
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I learned to disconnect from my body and its needs.
Because I was always pushing my own feelings aside, I taught myself that "my intuition was unreliable," something to ignore, and eventually stopped hearing it entirely.
When I would get that sinking feeling in my stomach, or a strong desire not to go along with something that I was being encouraged to do, I would tune out those feelings, choosing instead to accept what other people thought I should do or needed (instead of asking myself what I truly wanted in life).
Being indoctrinated into self-denial at an early age made it easier for me to be misled by the people around me, as I was systematically trained to ignore my own needs and feelings, and that giving away my power to others made me "a good person."
Central Texas Public Schools Were a BIG Part of The Problem
In my case, the push for self-abandonment (something our society's systems often encourage people to do) really got started when I entered the public school system in Central Texas, where simple things (like listening to my body when it sent me signals that I needed to move around, eat, drink, or go to the bathroom were labeled "disruptive to the learning environment" and I was punished, shamed, mocked, and scolded for speaking about or acting on those needs).
I was berated and belittled (in front of my peers and used as an example of "how not to act") for being unable to sit still (and needing to move), getting hungry and thirsty when it wasn't lunch time yet, expressing discomfort when my sensory needs weren't met, and needing to go to the bathroom “an unacceptable amount of times" during the school day (a cruel thing considering I had tummy troubles starting at a young age and couldn't help that I needed to go to the bathroom more often than the other kids).
Nobody Knew I Was Autistic
Being Autistic and undiagnosed added to the troubles I had in school, because my Autism + Package comes with intense sensory issues, specifically heightened sensitivity to fluorescent lighting and cold temperatures (anything below 75F) - which the classroom triggered horribly.
In response to the physical pain I experienced from the lighting my my classroom, I, trying to care for myself, brought sunglasses to class one day, only to have them immediately confiscated by my teacher who declared at the front of the room when I tried to defend myself for wearing sunglasses indoors, that "nobody else was complaining about the lights" and "sunglasses aren't allowed at school."
I also tried hiding under my desk (where it was dark and quiet), but my teacher also took issue with this, finding it "disrespectful" that I wasn't sitting "properly" in my chair.
She had a thing for "properness," also taking issue with me sitting cross-legged in my seat (a pose I still sit in as an adult, and how I sit as I write this piece), insisting I only sit "lady-like" with my ankles crossed or both feet still and on the floor.
My teacher was also convinced that to listen, I needed to be looking at her when she was talking, have "good posture," and "sit up straight," not leaning over (even though sitting this way was not and still is not comfortable for me). This taught me that my own comfort didn't matter, only how I appeared to those around me.
In school, I also learned (a lie) that the most important thing I could do to "be good" was to not inconvenience people around me with my needs.
Medical Gaslighting in Elementary School
Sitting in my chair, without sensory protection, caused me to start experiencing regular sensory overloads, which presented as heightened energy levels and hyper-vigelance (that appeared as hyperactivity due to my body sending me ignored flight/fight signals that I needed to move/get out of there), and eventually migraines and stomach distress (after repeated exposure and ignoring what my body perceived to be a sensory threat).
When I went to the nurse, because I was feeling "unwell" and my head and stomach were spinning and aching, I was told that, because I “didn't have a fever” (and therefore was not contagious), I “needed to stop asking to go to the nurse and stay in class," despite the stomach and headaches that were plaguing me.
The lesson here was "if my sickness wasn't going to spread to the other kids, it didn't matter how I felt"... so I learned to ignore these signals too, accepting regular headaches and stomach distress as "just part of my daily life" (until I was diagnosed Autistic at the age of 29, and my sensory differences and distress were validated, so I started speaking up about what I needed once again).
It was clear to me from a young age that my body's needs were "bad," something that needed to be ignored, because if I didn't ignore them, I would get in trouble with my teacher (who would shame me for having basic human needs in front of my peers, call home to tell my guardians that I "was acting up in class," or take away my recess time as punishment for my inability to deny myself and my body's needs).
All of this primed me for abuse, teaching me to ignore red flags in relationships.
How Developmental Trauma Normalized Red Flags
I was taught to ignore my own feelings. My gut tried to tell me when things were wrong, but I was taught that my feelings and needs were something to be tuned out.
I believed I deserved poor treatment. My teacher told me I was "bad," and I believed her. Eventually, my self-worth fell so low, and I thought I was to blame for the poor treatment I received from the people around me (because I was taught in school that it was my fault due to "my behavior" that people reacted to me poorly).
I developed a high physical and emotional pain tolerance. I learned to endure poor treatment and abuse because it was expected of me (and praised) as a child.
I struggled to trust my own judgment. I was gaslit as a child and encouraged to ignore my inner compass, so I learned to doubt my ability to see things clearly.
My main goal was to avoid conflict. I tried my best to be invisible and not make waves, so eventually, as I grew up, I ignored abuse and red flags to keep the peace and try to feel safe, which became second nature.
Abuse began to feel familiar. My brain started to mistake intense, chaotic, and abusive relationships (with friends or partners that punished or rewarded me) as "normal" (because I had gotten used to them at a young age).
In short, my "normal meter" was damaged. What felt safe and familiar was often what was harmful, making true red flags very nearly impossible for me to see.
Learning About My Autistic Brain Saved Me
A significant change began when I was diagnosed Autistic at the age of 29 (nearly 9 years ago now). Upon this awakening, I realized how much of myself I'd shelved off to make people around me comfortable (at my own expense).
After my Autism diagnosis, I started listening to myself and stopped ignoring my sensory needs for the first time since elementary school.
Refusing to expose myself to environments that were hostile to my senses more than absolutely necessary, or without sensory protection, my headaches and sensory pain, for the most part, stopped because I started to pay attention when they came on (taking the signals as something I needed to listen to and not tune out) for the first time since childhood.
I had endured years of unnecessary and totally preventable pain, thanks to a school system that taught me to ignore my own needs and discomfort because they wanted compliant youngsters with "butts in chairs", pushing self-denial on kids like me (who struggled to assimilate into the existing systems).
When I abandoned myself, I silenced my own inner voices.
That gut feeling, which is supposed to tell us when something is wrong, got ignored and pushed down because I learned to prioritize others' feelings over my own comfort and safety. This left me vulnerable in many ways due to being disconnected from my internal warning systems (that are supposed to tell us when things are bad for us or dangerous).
Without an internal compass, I had no boundaries.
I was unsure how to say "no" to things I didn't want to do (or didn't feel safe and comfortable doing).
I also could not recognize when someone was overstepping my boundaries, because I had been taught that my needs didn't matter and had frequently been praised for self-denial (and punished for attempting to advocate for myself).
Ultimately, I learned through repeated cycles of punishment for "undesirable behaviors" (such as standing up for myself) and rewards for ignoring my own needs.
I was groomed to believe that external validation, approval, kindness, and love could only be earned by "giving up myself" and "putting my own needs last," which became my greatest weakness.
I became so afraid of being abandoned or rejected that I would tolerate poor treatment and literal mental and physical abuse, just to feel a fleeting sense of connection (with people whose affections were entirely conditional and often exploitive and destructive).
Growing up, and even in adulthood, this (my weak boundaries) made me an easy target for manipulative people, who were attracted to my self-abandonment and inability to stand up for myself.
Learning the truth about my brain changed everything.
