Wow, it’s really like you have no idea what I’ve actually been through and experienced over the years of trying to do exactly that and persevering even in the face of rejection, ridicule, derision, and scorn.
Alone might be depressing, but at least it’s peaceful, and I’m getting too old to rock the boat, especially now that I’ve attained a modicum of mental stability.
it’s really like you have no idea what I’ve actually been through and experienced over the years
It’s not just like that, it is that. But I also have trouble making friends.
I have one good friend who constantly irritates me and another I have tea with occasionally. I would like to have two or three friends, ideally people I like (this is surprisingly difficult).
I’m shocked to hear you’ve faced rejection, ridicule, derision, and scorn. The most I’ve faced is blank looks or text messages left unread. I really want to know what happened to bring about those responses.
I really want to know what happened to bring about those responses.
Typical NT response. “It must be your fault. What did you do to deserve it? It couldn’t be that society is programmed to reject anything they perceive as deviating from the norm. It couldn’t be that!”
I rewrote that part like three times before giving up and just putting that. I’m aware of the ableism inherent in the statement, but please try to read my comments a little more charitably. I promise that will be a more accurate understanding.
I believe you and I don’t blame you, but I am curious about these scenarios if you feel like talking about them.
If you could give me an example of the kinds of comments you would like to hear from me, that would actually be hugely helpful. I’m not as NT as you assume. :p
I don’t feel like talking about them. They’re the kinds of memories and interactions that I try to shove down whenever I think about them. Those painful cringes that hit like a dozen or two dozen times a day, random memories from all throughout my life, all adding up to reaffirm the conclusion is reached long ago that literally nothing I say or do will ever be accepted as “normal,” no matter how hard it try to conform, or even especially when I try just being myself.
So no, I won’t deliberately spend mental energy trying to remember specific interactions and putting them into words. It’s like wack-a-mole, and there are thousands of them, so once I push down a particular memory it might be months or years before that specific one comes up again. My inner life is like a kaleidoscope of painful flashbacks.
I don’t need to hear a specific comment from you. I’m sorry, but you’re not gonna save me from myself. It’s fine, that’s not your responsibility. Thanks for understanding though. Most people don’t exactly validate my struggle when I mention it.
Right, in a world where everyone seems to be saying “Don’t bother strangers in public, nobody wants to be bothered!” I’m supposed to just go out and… talk to strangers… until I magically make friends?
So all the things people criticized me for in the past (i.e., talking to strangers who apparently didn’t want to be bothered) are now precisely what I’m supposed to do to overcome the symptoms of the social rejection I experienced from being labeled as someone who talks to strangers in public?
Yeah, I’d rather die alone than twist my brain into knots trying to decode that jumbled mess.
Yeah, that’s something I’m just not capable of. I tried for years but it always left me perplexed. Humans are strange, ambiguous creatures, and I don’t have whatever it is that let’s them decode each other’s hidden meanings. People have always expected me to just magically know without being told.
I don’t get it. I never have. When my imagination is all that’s left to fill in the blanks, it comes up with some pretty grotesque distortions. I no longer place any credence in anything I don’t know for fact. I’m too old to lose my sanity again trying to figure out whatever the fuck “read between the lines” even means…
I can’t control other people. Other people can choose to not be my friend, to not invite me anywhere, to not talk to me, to leave whenever I show up.
No, having friends is something beyond my control.
Having specific friends maybe, but get out there and you’re guaranteed to find someone who’s on your sine.
Wow, it’s really like you have no idea what I’ve actually been through and experienced over the years of trying to do exactly that and persevering even in the face of rejection, ridicule, derision, and scorn.
Alone might be depressing, but at least it’s peaceful, and I’m getting too old to rock the boat, especially now that I’ve attained a modicum of mental stability.
It’s not just like that, it is that. But I also have trouble making friends.
I have one good friend who constantly irritates me and another I have tea with occasionally. I would like to have two or three friends, ideally people I like (this is surprisingly difficult).
I’m shocked to hear you’ve faced rejection, ridicule, derision, and scorn. The most I’ve faced is blank looks or text messages left unread. I really want to know what happened to bring about those responses.
Typical NT response. “It must be your fault. What did you do to deserve it? It couldn’t be that society is programmed to reject anything they perceive as deviating from the norm. It couldn’t be that!”
I rewrote that part like three times before giving up and just putting that. I’m aware of the ableism inherent in the statement, but please try to read my comments a little more charitably. I promise that will be a more accurate understanding.
I believe you and I don’t blame you, but I am curious about these scenarios if you feel like talking about them.
If you could give me an example of the kinds of comments you would like to hear from me, that would actually be hugely helpful. I’m not as NT as you assume. :p
I don’t feel like talking about them. They’re the kinds of memories and interactions that I try to shove down whenever I think about them. Those painful cringes that hit like a dozen or two dozen times a day, random memories from all throughout my life, all adding up to reaffirm the conclusion is reached long ago that literally nothing I say or do will ever be accepted as “normal,” no matter how hard it try to conform, or even especially when I try just being myself.
So no, I won’t deliberately spend mental energy trying to remember specific interactions and putting them into words. It’s like wack-a-mole, and there are thousands of them, so once I push down a particular memory it might be months or years before that specific one comes up again. My inner life is like a kaleidoscope of painful flashbacks.
I don’t need to hear a specific comment from you. I’m sorry, but you’re not gonna save me from myself. It’s fine, that’s not your responsibility. Thanks for understanding though. Most people don’t exactly validate my struggle when I mention it.
Honesty just be
The best way to meet people is to talk to random strangers you happen to see once and a while
Right, in a world where everyone seems to be saying “Don’t bother strangers in public, nobody wants to be bothered!” I’m supposed to just go out and… talk to strangers… until I magically make friends?
So all the things people criticized me for in the past (i.e., talking to strangers who apparently didn’t want to be bothered) are now precisely what I’m supposed to do to overcome the symptoms of the social rejection I experienced from being labeled as someone who talks to strangers in public?
Yeah, I’d rather die alone than twist my brain into knots trying to decode that jumbled mess.
You need to learn to read the room (and individual people)
Yeah, that’s something I’m just not capable of. I tried for years but it always left me perplexed. Humans are strange, ambiguous creatures, and I don’t have whatever it is that let’s them decode each other’s hidden meanings. People have always expected me to just magically know without being told.
I don’t get it. I never have. When my imagination is all that’s left to fill in the blanks, it comes up with some pretty grotesque distortions. I no longer place any credence in anything I don’t know for fact. I’m too old to lose my sanity again trying to figure out whatever the fuck “read between the lines” even means…