Many autistic people talk about bullying, being bullied, ridiculed, criticized etc. I am lucky, I was never physically bullied, just ignored, laughed at and excluded. And it taught me to become a bully too. With myself as the only victim. I mostly have two voices in my head – the voice of reason and logic, and the voice of ridicule that always talks just a bit louder.

“You are just pathetic.”

“You will never be able to…”

“Why try, it is useless.”

“You never manage to finish anything.”

“You are just a fake.”

The voice of reason fights back, but sometimes the logic feeds the other voice.

“Keep on trying! You are brave to try, even if you always fail.”

I will always be awkward with people, find so many ordinary things extremely hard to do, fail to cope with simple stuff, become overwhelmed. Sometimes the voice of reason stays silent in sadness, while the other voice settles down in silent derision.


Some visitors are on their way over. They will sleep over and go home tomorrow. This is people that means a lot to my family, and I cannot avoid them or be honest about my feelings for them. I resent their coming. Having them here is always an ordeal for me, and I have to hide it. I have to perform, there is no way out. I have to put on a happy face and listen to endless mindless chatter while my head is throbbing and my stomach gets tighter and tighter. The one person has a habit of humming, and he only stops when he is either talking or sleeping. I cannot stand the constant monotone sound, it makes me want to sob. They use spray on deodorant, and LOTS of it. The whole house reeks of it when they are here, and it is a total assault on my senses. This is my house, my safe place, and this onslaught of sound and chatter and smell is unbearable. I am already crying just thinking about it.


And then they are people I can never be honest with. I can never be my real self, it offends and upsets them. I have realized that long ago, and to stop the drama for all our sakes, I started putting on an act for them. They are so pleased about the change, and about how wonderfully pleasant and agreeable I am now. But after years and years of this, my mask is slipping. I recently started having to leave the room to go and stim and sometimes hurt myself because the effort is too great and it hurts too much. And I have started resenting them as a result. I don’t want them here and I can do nothing about it and I feel resentful and ashamed at the same time. I wish there was someone who understood this.

Do I like people?

I don’t know. I want people to be happy. It upsets me when people are not happy. I believe everybody deserves respect, and I try hard to treat every person I encounter with respect. I always fight for the underdog, and unfairness and cruelty and disrespect upsets me hugely. I wish people would stop hurting each other and try to see the positive traits in everybody.  I believe everybody has good in him or her.

But I sometimes think I am just looking at people in a theoretical way. Close up I find it hard to like most people. I find it so hard to see what they find interesting in the things they say to each other. I feel them to be dishonest when it comes to showing their real feelings. I find their preoccupation with appearance and looks irritating. I have no desire to become involved in their lives on an ongoing basis. I cannot bear to spend too much time with them, I cannot stand the constant chatter and talk.

So I find people beautiful, but from a distance. I sometimes feel so lonely that it does not seem worth it to carry on, but when I get the chance to get close to people, I can’t seem to like them enough.

I don’t like this because it makes me seem cold. Can it be enough to care from a distance?


This will be a place where I share the thoughts that I can share nowhere else. I will be blogging anonymously, that is the only to stop censoring every word and thought. My life is ruled by censoring and overthinking every little detail, I need to create a small space where I can be myself. Not that I actually know how to be myself, but if I can find out little by little here, it is a beginning. I am autistic, and I have a great wish to be authentic too.