I Loved Her Deeply—So Why Don’t I Feel the Pain?
After the passing of my beloved rattie Rosie, I have been surprised to feel… Nothing. …
Why I Stopped Pretending to Be “Strong”
Today I’m thinking about weakness and strength.
“I envy you that you can afford to be weak,” a friend told me years ago. It made me think. Probably mostly because of the paradox. If being weak is something enviable, why do people attach a negative meaning to it?
I don’t consider myself weak. I used not to mind people attributing this quality to me because I don’t see myself that way. I’m not weak. I’m open about my feelings. And that’s not very common in today’s society, so much so that people can even find it unpleasant.
I think that calling people “strong” or”weak” is nonsense. I don’t think there’s such a thing as “weak” – it’s the same as trying to define the concept of “normal”. People are more complex than the artificial labels of “strength” and “weakness”.
The Times I Didn’t Die
I didn’t die. Maybe I should have.
The doctors said I had stopped growing when my mother was pregnant. They said I would be mentally retarded. My parents were proud, so proud, that I turned out to be gifted instead.
Their first child.
My mum was under great stress when she was expecting me. She and my dad lived with my great-great grandma, and she was bossy. When the mother has anxiety during pregnancy, there is a strong probability that the child will inherit that anxiety as well.
What I remember from regression therapy:
I don’t want to be here. Can I go back?
I want to shrink, to disappear.
I don’t want to have this body.
Oh God, do I have to do this? Let me out, let me out, please.
I don’t want to be here.
Getting Diagnosed on Autistic Pride Day Felt Like Coming Home
I was diagnosed with autism and ADHD on June 18th. I was half expecting the former — it’s the result of several years of very intense soul-searching and contemplating and two years of waiting for a very thorough evaluation. The latter was a complete surprise to me.
When I thought about it before, I thought I would cry about it. I thought I was going to think of it as a big deal. I battled mental illness for my whole life. But this is not “just” an illness anymore, it’s a disability. I would be a disabled person.
This uncomfortable feeling has been fermenting in my head for years, growing in size. For years I have told myself one moment that I was clearly autistic, the next that I clearly couldn’t be, and I freaked out.
Love Has the Shape of a Mouse
I found her outside on a walk. She was sitting in the grass on the roadside. Her fur was a perfect, startling white. She was happily nibbling on something she held in her tiny paws. I stared at her in awe and then suddenly realized she couldn’t possibly survive outside. I scooped her up before I could think it through, and just like that, I suddenly had a mouse. I didn’t know at the time that she would become my best friend. I didn’t know she would save my life as I saved hers. I didn’t know how much I would love her.
What I Feared Before Getting Diagnosed With Autism (And ADHD)
It hurts. The stream of water hits my small body and I shrink in myself….
Are You Being Childish Enough?
Did you notice that our culture equates behaving in a natural way with being childish?…
The Worst Thing About Social Phobia
The worst thing about having a social phobia is probably not what you would imagine…