If you have been on my social media, or if you follow my blog, you’ll have gathered by now that I’m quite a pensive and ruminative person.
Today’s ruminating has been precipitated by my daughters birthday, and I find my mind running back to pregnancy and post natal depression.
My mind can’t ignore the fact that I was repeatedly told to abort, that I had ruined my life, just as this person’s life was ruined in the same way. I didn’t listen.
On babies arrival, said person got very upset with me in the hospital for being too clingy and selfish with my newborn. That I should have immediately offered her for cuddles and pictures. Why has it taken 16 years to realise that I should have said no then.
I should have said no long before then.
I knew I had trauma, and I knew why. I just wasn’t allowed to acknowledge it. Other people in the same boat as me didn’t have trauma, so how could it possibly be real?
Now there’s an interesting question, and here’s what I think about it. The other people in the boat were not neurodivergent. They did not sail in the same boat as me, the same storms, yes, but I was in a dingy, whilst they were on the main vessel, together.
A lot of my trauma comes from judgement and constant criticism, not only of myself, but every single person we knew. Not one person entered or left our house without a public enquiry as to how they behaved, what they said, what they wore, how much they ate or drank, the way they ate, how big they were, how much money they had, their secrets shared and disclosed as scandalous tales (they were not scandalous), their weaknesses, their vices. You name it, if you entered our house, you were evaluated, measured up, discussed, heavily criticised and compared. Every. Single. Person.
Now, I admit, sometimes there was truth that I could see, but I never understood why it was our concern. Also, why do we keep inviting these people, if they are so awful? If all you are doing is complaining, why are you inviting them back?
Because they served a purpose. What I have come to realise, and I am only just learning about narcissism, is that if you serve a purpose, you are highly celebrated, worshipped even, love bombed, treated well. As soon as your purpose is done, so are you. You may as well be dead to them.
And why do they not know this about you? Why are they coming back? I think that’d be the charm. See on the outside, people can charm, they can flirt, they can make you feel like the most wonderful person, the most important person that ever existed in fact. It’s extremely deceptive, very very deceptive, and very very hard for ‘outsiders’ to believe. To wrap their head around what I’m saying, because these people are extremely clever. You will only ever see it when it’s too late, or if you have no way out.
Here’s where it gets messy. As children, we would be compared to these people’s children too, ‘why can’t you be more like so and so?” I don’t think anyone but me noticed the oxymoron in the equally ridiculous comments like “Well, you should be glad I’m not like so and so’s parents, they’re so irresponsible.” I was the only one wondering how, I, as a child, could be expected to behave like so and so, but have a completely different set of rules to follow than so and so. It never ever made sense to me.
I also didn’t understand the criticisms. Yes, that person is overweight, but they seem happy, they don’t appear to be bothered by it, why are we? How is it our business? But, of course it was our business, because all these criticisms were describing the people we weren’t allowed to be.
Fat
Gay
Uneducated (university level is a must)
Unemployed (for any reason)
Have kids before 30.
Kids before marriage.
Piercings, tattoos and LESBIAN SHOES.
Don’t even get me started on the church congregation, just don’t.
Here’s where I’m wondering.
Most, if not all neurodivergent individuals that I have met, do not judge based on these things. We do not find these things offensive, odd, or dishonorable. In fact, we rarely ever consider or even see these things.
Now, consider you are a neurodivergent child, that no one knows is neurodivergent. And you have to listen to this day in day out. Wondering where all the sense in this is coming from. Trying to make it add up. You can’t. It doesn’t make sense.
If these people knew the things that were said, our family would not have a single friend at all.
But they didn’t know.
I knew. It made me squirm, but what could I possibly do?
I’ve tried talking to the passengers on the other boat, in the same storm.
I get told where to go quite regularly, quite emphatically. So I will never talk on it again with them.
My thoughts are this, perhaps they can’t see it, because their brain works in a similar way? Nowhere near the extent, but recently I have learned the hard way, that most people, actually do judge. Who knew?
I couldn’t see it myself, I didn’t understand my neurodiverge. I was written off as CPTSD and BPD (or as others quite vacuously call it, just attention seeking behaviour and manipulation). So I slunk away, slowly removed myself as much as I could, but the heart strings never allowed me to escape.
But perhaps, perhaps, if your brain is more ready to judge on such a superficial level, if you are inherently wired that way, then maybe that’s why there is no trauma? Because, perhaps it did make sense to them? Perhaps, and I would say quite likely, these things are real fears for them. Fears because that ship has seen first hand the kind of reaction you get if you deviate from the norm.
Because it didn’t actually cause harm to anyone else but me. No one else knew about the invisible trials of character assassination that everyone went through. No one knew that we were warned to never act like these people or heaven forbid follow a similar path or our life would be worthless. Shame inducing.
The second my daughter was born, the threats escalated to, “I will do whatever it takes to take them away from you if you do not lead the life I have prescribed for you.” Many, many threats, without an ounce of reason.
I want to ask the other boat where their threats were, but I don’t need to.
They were married.
They were straight.
They had University Degrees.
They had fulfilled the quota.
They didn’t retreat.
They didn’t deviate.
I’m still sailing alone in that dingy.
But now, a huge ship, an entire ocean liner full of periscopes and navigational maps, blaring orders at me from the helm, watching over me. Judging me.
Flying a flag showing me what life should have looked like if only I’d done as prescribed.
If only I followed the rules.
There would have been no hostages if I had just boarded the ship quietly.
But.
I’d rather walk the plank and swim with the sharks.
The only thing I judge is their judgement and criticism and inability to be accountable for any of it.
Never, will I be a passenger on that boat.
Me, Myself and Who am I? 