Programmed to the beat of your heart; it is my marching sound. I try and break free, to breathe my own air, to sit within the void, but the stillness suffocates my lungs. Fear. Loneliness. Trauma. Denial. Avoidance. Worth. All these things are twined together to create the umbilical cord attaching my emotions, my worth, my existence to your actions. You are my supply of oxygen and I slowly drown without you. If I am not here to help you, what am I here for? If I am not here to guide you, to face each challenge with you, to support and reassure you, protect you and wrap you up with a promise of warmth and love and security and stay focused on not much else but you, what am I supposed to do? And who is it that’s left? Other than a shell of a human being.
I am forced to look at myself. A sight I do not regularly like to see. How do I separate myself from you and still love you? Detatch with love the book says. Feels like an oxymoron to me. And though I have my own limbs, eyes, skin, I can walk on my own two feet, I can’t seem to prise away your shoes. I’ve tried cutting the cord yet it remains attached, feeding my demise as you get stronger: the host and receiver. Yet I’m lost on who the host actually is. I’m not sure which hurts more, the severence of the attachment or the attachment itself. Isn’t this what love is? Or have all the movies I raised myself on got it wrong? Are we becoming a self-centred society or becoming more self aware of the propaganda? Boundaries. Protect my energy. Me before you. Don’t have space, my cup isn’t full. Conditional love. What have I been searching for all this time? And from whom? And why?
How do I create balance when my autistic brain wants one or the other? All or nothing. And when forced into a corner, balance turns into a bitter taste of resentment feeding the victim who refuses to leave my side. I do ‘the work’. I reassure my victim that all is ok. That they’ve got it wrong. That I am loved. That I am cared for. That they’re seeing through the lens of being abandoned and neglected as a child. I think they’re just tired of swallowing these pills so they choke and lash out in passive aggression. And just when they’ve exhausted themself, in walks self loathing, guilt, sadness, loneliness, fear and a worth that is barely visible. But you. You help alleviate all of this. Because the more I can love you, protect you, help and guide you, be there for you even if my cup is empty, the less I see of myself. The less I have to matter. But matter I do.
So where is the way out of this maze I’m so lost in? Lost, even though I’m stood in front of the door leading to freedom. To feel the fear and do it anyway? To have those friendships outside of our bubble? To lessen my grip of you? To set you free to fly and risk you never wanting to return? Risk you finding something better or forgetting me and making it mean more about me than it does you. How do I even have a life outside of you? I don’t understand the rules of society. My brain isn’t wired the same as others. It’s not broken. It’s just wired differently and has been before birth. I’m scared. I’m petrified to live. I’m blanketed under complex-PTSD, ADHD and autism and I.. I’m tired. Burnt out. Jealous. Envious. Hurt. Resentful. Angry. Frustrated. Fearful. Complicated. Confused. Overwhelmed. Lost. And by Einstein’s definition, insane.
All I know is, something has to give and something normally does.