Reedstorm17
Well-Known Member
Today, I was going to my horseback riding lesson, and in the car, my dad told me that they're considering switching my instructor for the next two years before I go to college because of my "inability to speak to my instructor." That my parents and my instructor think it's best. He said if I didn't talk to my instructor during my lesson today, then my instructor was going to get changed.
The thing is, I desperately want to be able to talk to my instructor. But it's just so hard. I can't say most things unprompted. And when I know what to say, I don't know when to say it. But no one seems to understand.
My dad said I need to learn how to connect with people, because when I go off to college, my roommate and friends will think I don't like them if I don't express interest in their lives. And I'm just so tired of it. I try so hard to do these things I'm supposed to do, but I can never get it right. It's taking a huge toll on my mental health, thinking about all the pain I cause other people because I'm so terrible at expressing things, and I just can't do it anymore.
On the way home, I finally broke down and told my dad what I've felt inside for more than I year now. I told him that I don't want to change. That whenever I try to be who everyone else wants me to be, I feel fake. That I don't want to be fake. That I just want to exist, to be somebody, to be me, and not have to shape myself into "who I'm supposed to be." That trying to improve myself has caused me to forget who I really am inside, has caused everything to get all mixed up to the point where I can't recognize who I really am.
I realized all of this a year ago, when I caught sight of my real self, caged somewhere deep inside, struggling to show itself again. I didn't say anything about it then. I just grabbed onto my real self, took it out of the cage, brought it within reach. All year, I have been finding a way to bring myself back.
But I can't keep faking myself. And when I told my dad this, he was very hurt by it. He talked about how he was now questioning whether he's done the right thing for me all these years.
Why does it hurt so much? To know that I basically just told my dad that he and my mom did everything wrong? The worst part is that I'm not completely sure that I didn't mean it. I suddenly feel so free now that I've said it.
But they did everything right, so how could they have done everything wrong? All they wanted was to give me a chance in life. Where would I be without them? They could decided right from the start, after my diagnosis fourteen years ago, that I was a lost cause. They could have just given up on me then, let me do whatever I wanted. But they didn't. Instead, they did everything they could to make sure I learned essential social skills. To show me how I needed to act in society. And while I'm so grateful for it, so lucky, I also hate them for it. Because there are still some things I just can't do, and trying just makes me want to turn on myself.
It's not like I want to undo all these years of therapy. I just don't want to keep going. I just want to keep things where they are now. I've made these barriers between myself and society a lot flimsier over the course of my life, but they are never going to break, and I just want people to accept that.
Why does it have to hurt so much to tell my parents this? The last thing I ever want to do is cause them pain. Yet, sonehow, inevitably, cauing others pain is what I always do.
The thing is, I desperately want to be able to talk to my instructor. But it's just so hard. I can't say most things unprompted. And when I know what to say, I don't know when to say it. But no one seems to understand.
My dad said I need to learn how to connect with people, because when I go off to college, my roommate and friends will think I don't like them if I don't express interest in their lives. And I'm just so tired of it. I try so hard to do these things I'm supposed to do, but I can never get it right. It's taking a huge toll on my mental health, thinking about all the pain I cause other people because I'm so terrible at expressing things, and I just can't do it anymore.
On the way home, I finally broke down and told my dad what I've felt inside for more than I year now. I told him that I don't want to change. That whenever I try to be who everyone else wants me to be, I feel fake. That I don't want to be fake. That I just want to exist, to be somebody, to be me, and not have to shape myself into "who I'm supposed to be." That trying to improve myself has caused me to forget who I really am inside, has caused everything to get all mixed up to the point where I can't recognize who I really am.
I realized all of this a year ago, when I caught sight of my real self, caged somewhere deep inside, struggling to show itself again. I didn't say anything about it then. I just grabbed onto my real self, took it out of the cage, brought it within reach. All year, I have been finding a way to bring myself back.
But I can't keep faking myself. And when I told my dad this, he was very hurt by it. He talked about how he was now questioning whether he's done the right thing for me all these years.
Why does it hurt so much? To know that I basically just told my dad that he and my mom did everything wrong? The worst part is that I'm not completely sure that I didn't mean it. I suddenly feel so free now that I've said it.
But they did everything right, so how could they have done everything wrong? All they wanted was to give me a chance in life. Where would I be without them? They could decided right from the start, after my diagnosis fourteen years ago, that I was a lost cause. They could have just given up on me then, let me do whatever I wanted. But they didn't. Instead, they did everything they could to make sure I learned essential social skills. To show me how I needed to act in society. And while I'm so grateful for it, so lucky, I also hate them for it. Because there are still some things I just can't do, and trying just makes me want to turn on myself.
It's not like I want to undo all these years of therapy. I just don't want to keep going. I just want to keep things where they are now. I've made these barriers between myself and society a lot flimsier over the course of my life, but they are never going to break, and I just want people to accept that.
Why does it have to hurt so much to tell my parents this? The last thing I ever want to do is cause them pain. Yet, sonehow, inevitably, cauing others pain is what I always do.