In July of 2023, I posted an entry called My Journey of Self-Discovery. At the time, I was in the early stages of exploring the intersection of neurodivergence and trauma. In that post, I was using the term "neurodivergent" to refer to myself because it is an umbrella term encompassing many different conditions. Since then, however, I have seen many people use this term to avoid identifying with more stigmatized conditions, or even to advocate for the removal of certain labels. I do not agree with this at all and this wasn't even on my radar at the time, so it definitely wasn't my intention. At that point in my journey, I was simply avoiding claiming any labels until I was certain they were accurate. The funny thing about that, however, is that was already an accurate term, since I was aware of the trauma and anxiety-related diagnoses I received as an adult. Still, I believe the post does a good job of reflecting where I was on my journey when it was written.
In the original post, I also wrote about being an 11-year-old child at a new school and having a negative reaction to learning there was mushrooms on pizza. When I wrote that story, I did not include all the necessary information. This is because pieces have fallen into place as more and more childhood memories have resurfaced. I thought my reaction was because I wanted to be friends with the older girls and wanted to go with them to the dining hall instead of eating pizza. This wasn't, in fact, the case. As a young child, I struggled with food. If I forced myself to eat something with an undesirable texture or taste, I would inevitably throw up all over everything without warning. One time this happened with pepperoni pizza and I literally refused to even try it again until I was an adult. When the mushroom incident happened at school, the only pizza I'd eat (sausage) also had an unknown topping with an unknown texture on it. My reaction had nothing to do with making friends, and everything to do with avoiding food I wasn't sure about/was afraid would make me sick.
At this point, if you haven't read My Journey of Self-Discovery, I recommend doing so before finishing this post. It goes back to childhood, and illustrates my development of self-awareness and concepts I used to understand the world, step by step. We will pick up in 2022, just before I started learning about neurodivergence.
In 2022, occasionally TikTok's about ADHD would show up on my For You Page. Even though I have several family members with ADHD, I didn't think anything of it and I did not relate to most of the videos. However, I would watch them because they were interesting and I love to learn. The ADHD content slowly increased over time, and in the fall of 2022, I started getting occasional posts relating to Autism, specifically lived experience videos primarily from lower support needs feminine presenting individuals. I thought they were interesting, but these videos showing up on my For You Page did not concern me at all. It made sense given that I am disabled and watch disability-related content; I also used TikTok to learn instead of for the dance trends and other entertainment content it was known for. In September of 2022, I saw a video claiming that HSP (Highly Sensitive Person) is really Autism. I identified as HSP, but completely disregarded the video and kept scrolling. In early 2023, however, another video saying the same thing and including more information popped up. This time it caught my attention, because the first time, maybe it's just someone's opinion. The second time, however, maybe there is a reason they're saying that? Since I knew a little more this time around, I didn't immediately reject it. Instead, I sent it to a few friends. Their response was interesting. "You're not Autistic," they said. Hmmm, I didn't say I was. This is what made me want to learn more. How could they be so sure? I know we're supposed to think disability is this tragic thing, but I'm already disabled and I've never felt that way. I was very neutral about the whole thing. I continued watching videos about lived experience and gathering information. I also took several online assessments. I still wasn't claiming anything. It was just information, completely separate from me. That is, until life knocked me on my ass.
To accurately describe this journey, I have to include details about what I mean by "life knocked me on my ass." This is difficult to relive through writing, because it was such a challenging time. Additionally, I want to be as respectful as possible to others involved. I need to include details about other people's behavior and actions, but it is important to know before reading further that none of this is meant to be judgmental or to talk negatively about anyone.
In March of 2023, I met someone and started spending time with him and his friend group. I believe he came into my life to be a mirror, to show me who I really am and what I really need. As painful as our relationship was, I am incredibly grateful for the growth and self-awareness that developed as a result. I thought he fully accepted me even before I knew what that really meant. Here's why. We met on Mastodon, and we communicated primarily through text. We spent time together on TeamTalk, but there were almost always other people in the channel with us. Although he seemed interested in me, he never requested to spend time with me alone. Looking back on that situation, I now know that was a red flag. However, at the time it made me feel safe. I find it easier to communicate via text most of the time, and his communication style in our conversations seemed to mirror mine. It felt like a good match. Another thing that happened early on is he imitated me in front of his friends. I've been bullied in this way, even by previous romantic partners, so at first it was upsetting. Once I realized he wasn't mocking me, it served the purpose of making me feel even more safe. Additionally, we talked about my trauma, because I felt he should be aware of it before we met in case I didn't respond the way he expected. He did not shy away from the topic, and he did not pull away after I shared very personal information with him. However, it is notable now that while I was sharing my deep thoughts and feelings with him, he was not doing the same with me. I believe these conversations were based on scripted responses, and that he didn't actually have the capacity for the topics being discussed. We also talked about Astrology. I felt drawn to him, because we have the same rising sign and moon sign, also moon conjunct IC. It seemed like our chart synastry indicated we were meant to be, but with several oppositions (confrontational, difficult energy), our charts were like a mirror, reflecting back to each other what each of us needed to work on. When we met in person, he was very affectionate, but I could tell he didn't expect sex from me. If this was a red flag, it looked green at the time. While I was visiting him, there was an incident in which I was trapped in the bathroom with an ear piercing and panic inducing smoke detector I'd accidentally set off with water. He handled the situation so well, calming me down without shaming me. Comforting me eventually devolved into laughter, which felt like a necessary tension release for both of us. I thought that meant he could handle what it meant to be with someone with high anxiety. I did not know he was masking. When I told him I loved him, something felt off about his automatic (obviously scripted) "I love you too," response, but I didn't say anything. I wish I hadn't been so afraid to rock the boat. Hard conversations in a relationship are necessary. When I was leaving after spending a week with him, I had this feeling that he was relieved I was going home, like he was ready to have his space back and get back to his normal routine. I tried to push away the feeling that something wasn't right. He was, after all, in crisis. He was unhappy with his living situation and a close friend was moving out of state the same day I was leaving. He was so miserable where he was that I thought I should help him, even though it wasn't what I wanted and I knew it wasn't a good idea. This put our relationship on the fast track straight to hell. But that is the thing about me, if I have the means to help someone, I will sacrifice my comfort, my well-being, my financial stability, my space to do it. It has gotten me into trouble many times before, and this time was no different.
In the weeks, yes weeks, between meeting in person and him coming here, there was an incident in which we clashed about beliefs. When unexplainable things happen, such as a phone magically jumping over items to toss itself on the floor, I love to joke that my brother Jonathan, who passed away in 2012, did it. This happened not once, but twice while on TeamTalk one night. He doesn't believe in the paranormal and didn't want to even hear about it. This was hard for me, because I love to hear about things other people are interested in, and I would say I'm pretty open-minded. I could feel the rejection at the time, and knew that suppressing a lot of who I am and avoiding the urge to talk about things I like for his comfort would be a problem. My friends were surprised I wanted to be with him, because they could tell I was hiding my actual personality to gain acceptance from him and his friend group. This may seem manipulative, but it was completely normal to me and I wasn't aware I was doing it. Still, it was impossible to build an authentic relationship between two people who were both masking so heavily. It is exhausting whether or not you are aware of what you're doing.
A lot of weight was on my shoulders at the time. Not only was I determined to help this person I thought I loved, but someone I considered a close friend moved away after betraying me. Dash was also having a problem with his eye, which meant I had to give him liquid meds by mouth and put cream on his eye multiple times a day. It was a lot all at once, and I did not think I deserved to prioritize my well-being, especially when doing so when mean letting others down and potentially making life harder for them. As for my concerns, I thought it I was the only one who had them. In conversations with friends and a family member, no one told me I was making a mistake or discouraged me from allowing my partner to come here. In addition to taking care of Dash's eye, I was stressed out because my partner brought so much stuff with him. I'd just cleaned out my entire house, getting rid of pretty much everything, only for it to be overflowing with belongings. It felt like living in a storage unit, and it was suffocating. There was barely enough room to walk in some places, which meant there wasn't anywhere for me to work out. I'd completely changed my lifestyle and lost a bunch of weight the previous year, so my workouts, my nutrition, and my sleep were all very important to me. All of these were disrupted. Yet, I didn't say anything. I wanted him to feel at home here, and I knew it was a difficult adjustment for him as well. I wanted to give it some time, and I figured we would find our groove.
We did not find our groove.
As a couple, I expected us to build a life and daily routine together. He, however, expected to continue living his life as he always had. We had completely different sleep schedules, likely due to delayed sleep phase syndrome on his part. Naturally, I go to bed around 2:00 AM and sleep until around 10:00 AM, but as a part of my healthier lifestyle, I was maintaining a bedtime around 11:00 PM and waking up by 8:30 AM. He, on the other hand, wouldn't go to bed until around 3:00 AM and would sleep well into the afternoon. As soon as he woke up, he would grab a drink and immediately head to the computer to get on TeamTalk with his friends, where he would spend the entire day. Even when doing other activities, such as cooking dinner, he would remain on TeamTalk. There were days he would wake up and walk right by me on his way to the computer as if I weren't even there. If I wanted to "spend time with him" it was usually on TeamTalk with his friends, or it was watching something he enjoyed. I tried not to argue with him, but this weighed on me. I could tell he was struggling with adjusting, so as I learned and recognized certain traits, I began making suggestions to help him. A lot of his belongings were in boxes, and I knew he would feel more comfortable if he had the things that brought him the most comfort. A great example, which I mentioned multiple times was his weighted blanket. Before, it was on his bed and he slept with it every night, but as he was adjusting to this unfamiliar place with this clingy woman he wasn't even sure he liked, it was shoved in a box somewhere. Every time I brought it up, he blew me off. How he treated me also completely changed. He began getting more annoyed with me for displaying signs of anxiety or sensory issues, and this reminded me of how my dad and brother treat me. They shame me for not acting right instead of being understanding. This is how I know he was masking when we first met. As soon as he wasn't in his environment, and was under additional stress, the patience went out the window. He also talked about traveling to his parents' house for the holidays and staying for months as if that is what he planned to continue doing. He treated me more like a roommate instead of a girlfriend, and that is not what I signed up for. We just wanted very different things. I tried having several conversations with him about our relationship, and he was like a deer in headlights (very obvious alexithymia) and he depended on advice from his friend group to make decisions about our relationship.
One day, he came out into the living room and asked what I was doing. I have an interest in mental health and trauma, and I have done a lot of auto psychotherapy on myself, so I was reading a book about CPTSD and I just casually told him. He became very concerned and urged me to begin talking to a mutual friend of ours, who encouraged me to find a therapist to address my trauma. Even with everything I'd learned about neurodivergence at the time, trauma was the lens through which I was viewing my life experiences. Yet, therapy has never been successful for me. I have written about this a few times on this blog, actually. I felt as though finding a therapist was required for my partner to continue our relationship. I was open to it, but our mutual friend told me I needed to actually call therapists to figure out which one would be a good fit. On top of everything going on, this was too much pressure for me. I believe my inability to follow through with what was being asked of me was seen as unwillingness and that the entire friend group looked down on me for that as well as behavior that was out of my control.
Shit really hit the fan with us, however, as soon as I mentioned Reiki in a Telegram group. Even though we'd talked about my interests privately, including Reiki, the paranormal, and Astrology, I didn't talk much and never discussed my interests in front of his friends. At this point, he was already completely disengaged from the relationship, so by embarrassing him and discussing topics they didn't like, I gave him the necessary reasoning for pulling away. When we crossed paths in the kitchen at dinner time, I tried to hug him and he backed away like he was afraid or disgusted by me. This hurt and was very confusing. He spent the entire day on TeamTalk discussing the new crisis he found himself in, and probably trying to figure out what to do about me. When he tried to speak to me at bed time as if I wasn't aware what he'd been up to all day, I just burst into tears. And this was the beginning of the end for us.
Trying to connect with him was like banging my head into a brick wall. After weeks of feeling unheard, misunderstood, and unwanted, I was at the end of my rope. I was tired of always being the problem, I didn't understand why he came here just to not even try with me, and I felt like my life had been thrown into chaos for nothing in return. After my friend betrayed me, my partner was my anchor and I needed stability. Through my tears, I tried yet again to reach some understanding with him. When this failed, I snapped and just started screaming. I was in excruciating emotional pain and I just couldn't take it anymore. There was nowhere for that energy to go and I had to let it out. I'd never done that before, so it scared even me. He started sleeping in the living room, and go figure, pulled out his weighted blanket.
Over the next few days, I was a total bitch. I am not proud of it, but I was hurting. I'd cry and cry, and then I'd rant to my friends about him and attempt to make jokes to ease the pain. I didn't care if he heard what I was saying and if I hurt his feelings, because of how much he was hurting me. Looking back, I should have gone to stay with family and asked him to leave. Instead, I wanted to give him time to find somewhere else to go, again prioritizing his needs over my own. I spent the next several weeks crying for hours every day and barely able to meet my basic needs. My friends looked out for me, they bought me low effort foods to keep me fed. Knowing I desperately needed comfort, a friend even sent me a weighted blanket. Unfortunately, it turns out I can't use them. The weight makes me feel like I am being held down. Dash also attempts to get under the blanket and then struggles to breathe. Very scary. It was very much appreciated, though, and made me feel so loved. I really enjoyed how soft the cover on the blanket was, I would lie on it and just run my hands over it over and over again.
On July 18, I posted a blog entry called Finding My People: Healing Through Acceptance. This was mostly based on the acceptance I felt when I met my partner. I knew I needed safe relationships, and I thought he was a safe person. I wrote the post in a way that discretely indicates things were not as they initially seemed, but there was still an impact. On July 22, the day our relationship completely fell apart, I posted My Journey of Self-Discovery, the first part in this series. I wrote about being an INFJ, discovering I had anxiety, learning about PTSD, identifying as an HSP, learning about being an Adult Child of a Dysfunctional Family, being given the label of CPTSD in therapy, and then learning more about Autism and ADHD (and all the conditions associated with them). Around this time, I would have just started reading Unmasking Autism. Although I saw myself in some of the experiences, I still wasn't applying any labels to myself and I wanted to make sure I wasn't creating connections where there were none. Around this time, I had a weird interaction with my mom. We were watching a show, and she asked me, "What do you think is wrong with him?" I said, "I don't know, it might be Autism and I started to explain but she got angry with me, so I stopped. I was very confused as to why she would have such a negative reaction about a fictional character. It reminded me of another conversation with her in the recent past in which I mentioned a relative was using Autism-related hashtags on social media. I was surprised when she went completely silent with me and refused to engage. My mom is usually very judgmental, and quick to dismiss any claims of disability or mental health issue as that person just needs to try harder. She always thought my anxiety when transitioning from my dad's house to my mom's was me intentionally causing problems and when I learned about anxiety on my own as an adult, she immediately attempted to invalidate me. Even now, when she uses a term I've previously used to refer to myself like anxiety, she'll apply it to herself and use a condescending tone, "I am afraid to be at home by myself at night, I have anxiety," drawing out and emphasizing the word anxiety. So, the fact that she refused to engage in conversation with me is very telling.
Thanks for reading this part of my story. In the next part, I will explain how I was forced to confront my internalized ableism.