I guess I’m upset, because I know I’m different, and I know that difference makes me defective in roles I’m supposed to fulfill and excel at. I can’t handle the burdens other people handle. I can’t handle the pain other people can. I can’t handle the stress, the noise, the bright lights, the constant voices, the fear of being a stranger. I feel so defective. It’s not coming from early childhood or the like. This is the remnants of what I experienced being thrown into an environment I wasn’t equipped to handle yet I was told that I should. Everybody else handled it. But I couldn’t. As my suffering got worse, I realized the extent of my pain indicated the level of my defectiveness. I was an alien to aliens. I was an actor to actors. I was insufficient to people whose insufficiency constituted the bar. And because of this -- because of my sensitivities, my differences, my deficiencies, my disposition -- I could not do what other people had and were able to do to survive. Since I couldn’t survive, I might as well not survive, I might as well not try.
I can handle a certain type of suffering. But the pain of this psychological warfare against the rest of humanity, is not something I can handle. I don’t think I can. I don’t know if I ever will.
I just wish I was normal like everyone else. I wish I was able to do all the things they could. I’m sad. I wish I wasn’t so incapable. I wish I didn’t have to suffer just to survive. I wish I didn’t have to suffer to appear normal. I wish trying to seem normal didn't make me suffer so much.
I got diagnosed with autism in the midst of depression. I didn’t consider myself to be autistic until depression and the isolation started to truly hit me. Autism became the scapegoat to blame for my differences, and thus to blame for my deficiencies, and thus ultimately, for my suffering.
Because of my experiences at HTeaO and my struggles socializing when I was younger, I internalized the belief that my differences made me fundamentally incapable of living in this society. Frankly, I’m not sure if anything I’ve experienced since March 2024 has changed that belief.
Granted, I suppose it doesn't help that my antidepressants ran out, and I don't know when I'll be able to refill them.