"I Don't Have A Routine"

Although my autism diagnosis is a big relief, I feel sad for myself. For all the years being mistreated and misunderstood and expected to do more than I was able to. For all that time I spent hating myself for not being independent or for hitting developmental milestones slower than my peers. For all the times I tried to push myself to do things that drained the life and joy out of me. My autism diagnosis is a great thing. But i can't help but feel sad for that guy. I cant help but mourn the childhood I could have had.

Telling me that being upset by my intrusive thoughts is proof I'm a good person did jackshit to help me, ngl. In fact, all it did was make me feel like I HAD to go down a spiral of horror and self-hatred any time I had those thoughts in order to prove those thoughts didn't make me a monster. I still feel like that.

But the most helpful advice I got about them was genuinely just to treat them gently. Laugh. Roll my eyes. Go "not my brain acting up again 🙄" or "Bro, I do no want to do that, shut up 😩".

Like...Telling people their suffering is proof they're good people isn't really helpful, in the long run. Or at all, for plenty of us. We need to be working WITH our brains, instead of constantly fighting against them. I have this tiny section in my journal, where when I was feeling okay, I wrote myself a note on intrusive thoughts and hallucinations and there's a line I keep in mind:

"Having thoughts-it's like an ocean; shit washes up sometimes. And then, if you let it, it gets washed away."

You have to let it wash away. You can't pick up every piece of crap that washes up and study it, keep it in your little backroom, trying to determine why it's here and what its purpose is. Babe, you're not a marine biologist. Sometimes bullshit is just bullshit and you've gotta train yourself to recognize that. You don't have to be disgusted every time you run across it. You can just keep moving.

i hate casual ableism cause if i try to defend myself i just sound like jughead

them: "omg stop [insert nd trait], just act normal"

me: "bitch i cant, im literally not normal. the synapses in my brain are physically different. im weird ok?? im a weirdo. have you ever seen me make eye contact? no, you fucking havent. THATS WEIRD."

chiho saitou’s revolutionary girl utena || さいとうちほの『少女革命ウテナ』

🖥️ 🖥️ 🖥️ | 🖥️ 🖱️ 🖥️ | 🖥️ 🖥️ 🖥️

Self-indulged Serial Experiments Lain Stimboard

Kin/id/me tags allowed

No f/o tags

Tagging @wallysharko

When I listen to my mother talk about me as a child, I feel such an overwhelming confusion and disconnect. With the way she remembers me, it would seem as if I had no clear personality of my own. I hardly cried or laughed as a baby, I never got into trouble to the point that I'd never even been disciplined, I followed all the rules, I excelled at all my schoolwork but never boasted, I had vague interests but nothing intense, I was kind and friendly but I didn't push for friends, etc.

The perfect child. Perfectly average traits.

I read "The Divided Self" by R.D. Laing recently.

One of the things that gave me the greatest feelings of validation and relief from that book are the childhoods of the patients he talks about- before this, I've never seen such a clear example of my own childhood painted in a light that resonates with me.

None of the patients he provided had explicitly abusive childhoods, and none of them remembered their childhoods as particularly traumatic. Of course, most recalled their parents as some mixture of distant and unpredictable, and in some cases there was definitely emotional neglect and verbal abuse, but it was passing and not incredibly eventful. (I am not making light of anyone's experiences, I'm speaking only about the example patients' own accounts).

Many of the patients and the patients' families tell tales that mirror my own: "Julie was never a demanding baby. She was weaned without difficulty. Her mother had no bother with her from the day she took off nappies completely when she was fifteen months old. She was never 'a trouble'. She always did what she was told. These are the mother's basic generalizations in support of the view that Julie was always a 'good' child."

Most interestingly, the author hears these accounts both from the patients and the patients' family, and he sees them as negative. In contrast to literally everyone else I've opened up to, he says, "I have come to regard such an account of the earliest origins of behaviour as especially ominous, when the parents sense nothing amiss in it all, but on the contrary mention it with evident pride.”

The author goes on referring to the patient Julie, "This is the description of a child who has in some way never come alive: for a really alive baby is demanding, is a trouble, and by no means always does what she is told. [...] The crucial thing seems to me to be that [Julie's mother] evidently takes just those things which I take to be expressions of an inner deadness in the child as expressions of the utmost goodness, health, normality."

Complete and total compliance and obedience is NOT normal from a child (nor from anyone, I would argue but that's not the point). Children have to make mistakes and cause problems and stand up for themselves in order to learn how to live and be their own person! If a child doesn't do that and is only ever praised for their lack of autonomy, they're not going to grow into a secure personhood.

It is very important to me to hear this for the first time, especially from a credited psychologist. For years I've felt I was crazy for thinking that my childhood was so dreadfully abnormal and concerning whilst everyone assured me I was as healthy as could be (and side-eyed me as if I was exaggerating for attention).

I've always considered myself to be afflicted by "gifted kid burnout", which I am going to assume my small audience is familiar with, but the concept of "ontological insecurity" Laing discusses in this book fits even better, which I didn't think was possible.

It's rare that I feel someone completely understands even a small part of myself, so I am very glad I read this book and I would recommend it to anyone else interested.

To end this post, here's three additional quotes from the book, each referring to a different patients' childhood, yet all I can relate to:

“There was no open neglect or hostility in her family. She felt, however, that her parents were always too engrossed in each other for either of them ever to take notice of her. She grew up wanting to fill this hole in her life but never succeeded in becoming self-sufficient. [...] [H]er abiding memory of herself as a child that she did not really matter to her parents, that they neither loved nor hated, admired nor were ashamed of her very much.” pg54

“What she called 'unreliability' was a feeling of bafflement and bewilderment which she related to the fact that nothing she did had ever seemed to please her parents. If she did one thing and was told it was wrong, she would do another thing and would find that they still said that that was wrong. She was unable to discover, as she put it, 'what they wanted me to be'.” pg59

“His father's account of him was very meagre. He had always been perfectly normal, and he thought his present eccentricities were simply an adolescent phase. He had always been a very good child, who did everything he was told and never caused any trouble. His mother had been devoted to him.” pg70

Knowing two autistics with such vastly different needs is a real mind trip.

One works full-time, can make small talk (although she really struggles), can shop and go out (she hates it though and needs lots of notice), talks "normal", interacts and understands people with only limited troubles.

Then, the other one has to use AAC at times, makes no facial expressions, and if they do talk it's monotone, can't hold a conversation without extreme exhaustion, has frequent shutdowns and loathes her difficulties. She stims and self-harms.

The fact that they're both me, is what people don't realise.

Don't assume autistic needs based on the brief mask they present you.

"Why do you like hamsters if you have ASPD?"

What else am I supposed to like? Murder? Blood? Guns? Robbing elderly women?

I really hate hearing this comment because the people who say bullshit like that always seem to think that someone liking casual or sweet things automatically disproves that they have an "evil" PD like ASPD or NPD.

Can we all please agree that hobbies and likes/dislikes have nothing to do with a personality disorder? I love my hamster, this tiny little creature, to the point that I am obsessively watching her and overanalyse her behaviour to figure out if she likes me or not. I also had a period in which I tried to learn knitting, I love to play Final Fantasy XIV and take my time to pet any lalafell player I come across because those tiny characters are just too cute.

I know someone with NPD who obsessively collects those funky pride flags and microlabels because that makes them happy. My boyfriend has NPD and he loves warrior cats.

Not everyone who has ASPD or NPD loves gore, horror, blood, shooter games or have any other "edgy" interest (obviously people with ASPD and NPD who love those kind of things are lovely too <3). People are versatile. Stop assuming that everyone with ASPD or NPD just likes edgy things because teenagers think that this is the thing which makes them a psychopath.