![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I'm not like them, but I can pretend
Nov. 24th, 2021 08:21 pmOne friend posted a meme on FB about people coming out as autistic and it rang home with me. Neurotypicals = you're not like X autistic that I know. Neurodivergents = yeah, we knew already.
And then I had lunch with another dear friend, who was also not surprised. I'm at the Imposter Syndrome stage, whereas the people who know me well are, yeah...makes sense, love.
Lunch friend also asked where I was with it all. I'm at imposter syndrome, yes that all makes sense, and massive fucking anger thank you for asking. Anger because I have always just thought I should try harder. That I was not good enough and beating myself into the ground would make it better.
It was never helped by the men I was in relationships with. I could always try harder, do more work on myself, get into extra therapy. Therapy was just throwing water into the Sahara without this missing piece of the puzzle. With only one exception, the men I have dated have been cis hettish middle class white blokes. they're basic attitude seems to be that Bitches Be Crazy and maybe I should just do more work on myself.
I actually came up with what I think is a very good analogy for when an queer autistic woman gets told that she should do more work to handle emotional stuff. Mebbe make a more therapy sammich or something. I've no idea whether anyone will read this, or get any benefit from it. The blokes cited above are also very fond of telling me (a) what good writers they are and, (b) how shit LJ/DW are. But here we go...
Being told that I should do "some more work" to manage the emotional stuff of a relationship with you is like some cunt shining a floodlight into my eyes, asking me to translate The Aeneid, and scoffing at me when I can't do that because my fucking eyes hurt.
Given space, time, and the right tools, I can make a good stab at translating the Aeneid. I have good Classics skills. Hell, I hate to be big headed, but I probably have better Classics skills than you. I did Latin and Old English translation at graduate level. But right now you are shining your stupid emotional floodlight straight into my eyes so I can't read the text.
You are shining your manbaby emotional floodlight into my eyes and screaming at me because I should do more work so I can do your Latin homework for you.
*mic drop*
And then I had lunch with another dear friend, who was also not surprised. I'm at the Imposter Syndrome stage, whereas the people who know me well are, yeah...makes sense, love.
Lunch friend also asked where I was with it all. I'm at imposter syndrome, yes that all makes sense, and massive fucking anger thank you for asking. Anger because I have always just thought I should try harder. That I was not good enough and beating myself into the ground would make it better.
It was never helped by the men I was in relationships with. I could always try harder, do more work on myself, get into extra therapy. Therapy was just throwing water into the Sahara without this missing piece of the puzzle. With only one exception, the men I have dated have been cis hettish middle class white blokes. they're basic attitude seems to be that Bitches Be Crazy and maybe I should just do more work on myself.
I actually came up with what I think is a very good analogy for when an queer autistic woman gets told that she should do more work to handle emotional stuff. Mebbe make a more therapy sammich or something. I've no idea whether anyone will read this, or get any benefit from it. The blokes cited above are also very fond of telling me (a) what good writers they are and, (b) how shit LJ/DW are. But here we go...
Being told that I should do "some more work" to manage the emotional stuff of a relationship with you is like some cunt shining a floodlight into my eyes, asking me to translate The Aeneid, and scoffing at me when I can't do that because my fucking eyes hurt.
Given space, time, and the right tools, I can make a good stab at translating the Aeneid. I have good Classics skills. Hell, I hate to be big headed, but I probably have better Classics skills than you. I did Latin and Old English translation at graduate level. But right now you are shining your stupid emotional floodlight straight into my eyes so I can't read the text.
You are shining your manbaby emotional floodlight into my eyes and screaming at me because I should do more work so I can do your Latin homework for you.
*mic drop*
