novart
Well-Known Member
Undiagnosed growing up, my parents invalidated my sensory pain so much growing up that by high school I was using what I know now is a very unique ability to intensely daydream in order to dissociate my way out of the pain. My teachers hated my problems so much that they passed me anyway even if I was failing, something I was grateful for but now realized only benefited them. It should have been a problem.
Failing to do anything successful in my life never brought any negative attention, it was only the rare moments I achieved anything independently that the hammer was brought down on me. I had no understanding of narcassists, or why I never felt like I had achieved anything when I followed my parent's advice (because it wasn't something I could take credit and subsequently be proud of).
When I ask why they never went to get me diagnosed, it was because I didn't act out like the other kids. When I act out now, it's only because I was always that way. Every memory of the pain I had growing up was a lie when it was something they feel they could be blamed for. The only "signs" they've led me onto were the things I never gave them "Oh, so THAT'S why you wouldn't cuddle with me as an infant, you lacked empathy". The idea of it being sensory pain is enough to make my life a living hell for weeks before anything subsides.
I lived in that "daydream" world when I had moved out a few years ago - before I had a diagnosis. I was successful in some regards, but living next to an airport actually had a way of forcing me to accept my sensory issues. I lost all use for that daydream world, and I felt real pain. Real pain that I hadn't felt in years but which I could instantly remember so well.
After much pleading I got to live back in with my parents, although I guess since they take my disability money and don't allow me to question how it's spent that one could say I'm still paying rent. I had a good working relationship with them since then until I started making my own moves. I had a girlfriend for once, I had an education I was working on again. That was when the sensory offensives started - opening all the windows when it was freezing cold, berating for any request to respect or understand my sensory issues.
One night I was working on a major assignment when this "sensory offensive" happened. I asked very nicely, but I was called a manipulator, liar, and a fraud. When I disputed this my mom started stripping her clothes off while grinning at me and making fun of me for "always waiting until the last minute to do your school work, nothing's changed". From then on I couldn't do my schoolwork without seeing that. Since then my mental health has slipped. I'm not sure if my girlfriend has broken up with me because of it (she is also on the spectrum), but her parents support her. I'm not sure if she could understand, or if i'm just too much of a burden now. I told her I don't blame her whichever way it is.
It's like I can't keep up. I wish I could move out again, be on my own, go completely no contact. I am past the point of regretting that. The awful fact is I have yet to see any sort of a group home or living situation that would be any better than this. I can't think, I can't eat.
I've seen too much beauty in this world to consider myself suicidal. Why would I want to leave when there is always the chance of experiencing it, no matter how unlikely?
But I feel stuck, and as long as I'm this person I will never be believed. Good god, what a nightmare.
I'd tldr or whatever, but I can barely even feel my fingertrips. I barely know what I'm typing at this point. I apologize for that.
Failing to do anything successful in my life never brought any negative attention, it was only the rare moments I achieved anything independently that the hammer was brought down on me. I had no understanding of narcassists, or why I never felt like I had achieved anything when I followed my parent's advice (because it wasn't something I could take credit and subsequently be proud of).
When I ask why they never went to get me diagnosed, it was because I didn't act out like the other kids. When I act out now, it's only because I was always that way. Every memory of the pain I had growing up was a lie when it was something they feel they could be blamed for. The only "signs" they've led me onto were the things I never gave them "Oh, so THAT'S why you wouldn't cuddle with me as an infant, you lacked empathy". The idea of it being sensory pain is enough to make my life a living hell for weeks before anything subsides.
I lived in that "daydream" world when I had moved out a few years ago - before I had a diagnosis. I was successful in some regards, but living next to an airport actually had a way of forcing me to accept my sensory issues. I lost all use for that daydream world, and I felt real pain. Real pain that I hadn't felt in years but which I could instantly remember so well.
After much pleading I got to live back in with my parents, although I guess since they take my disability money and don't allow me to question how it's spent that one could say I'm still paying rent. I had a good working relationship with them since then until I started making my own moves. I had a girlfriend for once, I had an education I was working on again. That was when the sensory offensives started - opening all the windows when it was freezing cold, berating for any request to respect or understand my sensory issues.
One night I was working on a major assignment when this "sensory offensive" happened. I asked very nicely, but I was called a manipulator, liar, and a fraud. When I disputed this my mom started stripping her clothes off while grinning at me and making fun of me for "always waiting until the last minute to do your school work, nothing's changed". From then on I couldn't do my schoolwork without seeing that. Since then my mental health has slipped. I'm not sure if my girlfriend has broken up with me because of it (she is also on the spectrum), but her parents support her. I'm not sure if she could understand, or if i'm just too much of a burden now. I told her I don't blame her whichever way it is.
It's like I can't keep up. I wish I could move out again, be on my own, go completely no contact. I am past the point of regretting that. The awful fact is I have yet to see any sort of a group home or living situation that would be any better than this. I can't think, I can't eat.
I've seen too much beauty in this world to consider myself suicidal. Why would I want to leave when there is always the chance of experiencing it, no matter how unlikely?
But I feel stuck, and as long as I'm this person I will never be believed. Good god, what a nightmare.
I'd tldr or whatever, but I can barely even feel my fingertrips. I barely know what I'm typing at this point. I apologize for that.