This Is My Reality

It’s midnight and I’ve been thinking.  I’ve been feeling.  I’ve been remembering.  And forgive me if this all sounds harsh, but this has been building up inside me for far too long and it needs to be said.  Whether it’s pounded on a keyboard in the middle of the night or scrawled in my journal as the sun streams in, I have to let this out before this swallows me whole.

I do not have a warped sense of reality.

The notion of it has been instilled in me for almost twenty years.  “You’re in your own little world,” people say.  “It’s not really too [this] or too [that.]”  “It’s all in your head.”

The thing is though, what you’re judging is my reaction to reality.  I have working eyes and working ears and working hands and a working mind.  I can tell you exactly what’s going on and I’m not a liar.  Just because I come to you shaking or with tears in my eyes doesn’t mean what I experience is any less legitimate (related – How Autistic People Experience Pain.)

Yes, I daydream sometimes.  Doesn’t mean I can’t focus on what’s important.

Yes, I’m oversensitive to certain stimuli.  Doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Yes, I get anxious about what could be.  Doesn’t mean I don’t know what is.

Throughout my life I’ve learned that people will give any excuse to bring you down, to make you feel belittled, to make you feel deserving of every ounce of their cruelty.  I’m stepping away from younger me now and I’m seeing that the vast majority of stuff she went through was completely unwarranted.  No one should be taught that they should suffer because their happiness, sadness, and fears are unique.  No one should be taught that love is being locked in a room while you cry only to return to the confiner for comfort.  No one should be taught that rejecting someone leads to isolation and hell.  And no one should be taught that harassment, gaslighting, and bullying from anyone is okay, ever.

I wake up some days and I’m angry.  I’m angry that the way that people treat me has led to so much pain.  It makes me so mad that I have to choose between doing the things I love and my mental and physical safety.  I can’t stand that even practicing my hobbies has been stained by the burden of always feeling less than.

I’m angry because I’m always having to prove myself to people – yes, I have mental illnesses.  Yes, I went through trauma.  Yes, I’m a Christian.  And a million other little things I just have to show all the time and put at the mercy of other people’s judgment.  It’s so hard to be yourself when everyone else thinks they have the authority to decide who you are and what you’ve been through (related – Helpful vs Harmful Ways to Respond When Someone Has Autism.) It’s even harder when what you want to do is blocked by past and present events.

I’m realizing that I’m the only person who’s ever going to truly look out for myself.  I’m the only one who knows everything I go through and how it affects me.  I don’t have to listen to the opinions of those who only know me on a surface level.  Their assumptions are ridiculous and often manipulative and I’m not going to take it anymore.

I know my reality.