Lonely Even When I’m Not

This weekend was pretty great! We celebrated Chuck’s son’s birthday twice on Thursday and Friday. On Saturday, I went kayaking with my neurodivergent group. And on Sunday, me and Chuck went to the river!

It was a great weekend, but Saturday was a mixed bag. Doing stuff with my neurodivergent group is always a mixture of fun and difficult for me. There are a few reasons.

One reason is tha, although it is a group for adults of all ages, the leaders started it for their sons who are in their early twenties now. Many of the members seem to be in their late teens or early twenties. It’s somewhat difficult just because I don’t always have much in common with them at all. Most of them are really into anime and video games, things I know not much about. 

But the part that is really hard about that is seeing all of the support they have. A lot of them come with their parents, at least some of the time… or sometimes a personal support worker. So there are two parents who actually started a whole social group spanning two states, and dedicate a large part of their lives to it, just to help their sons have a place to belong. And all these other parents found the group for their kids, and actually go with and participate with their kids… because they want their kids to be happy and have a place to belong.

I did not have that. Not as a kid, not as a teenager, and certainly, CERTAINLY not in my twenties. Or now. 

When I was little my mom was the leader of my Brownie troop, but even at age 7 I felt like for her it was more about being in charge of something, rather than about spending time with me. I often felt like an afterthought, a kid she had to drag along and put up with as she did these activities with other kids. 

By the time I was a teenager, neither of my parents would have been caught dead at any sort of group activity, with me or even with my brother. I was alone most of the time. I wandered the neighborhood and got into dangerous situations because I just didn’t want to be alone. I remember having to ride my bike, in the snow, to a therapy session, because my mom had to work and besides I was sixteen and should have been driving anyways and if I was going to choose to not have a drivers license (I was scared to death of driving and also sucked at it) I’d have to just ride my bike in the snow. (I fell off like thirty times on that particular day.)

These people have parents who gently guide them through the world, advocating for them, giving them the freedom to do things hey love but also making sure they are safe and happy. They read books and go to classes about how to help their autistic adult kids. 

My parents refused to believe there was anything different about me other than just being an annoying, stubborn brat who refused to just “go with the flow.” Their parenting tactic was to just scream at me until I did what I was supposed to do.

These people get help from the Department of Vocational Rehab to learn job skills and find jobs they can do, even job coaches to go with them to work and help them.

At sixteen I was “supposed” to get a job because that was what sixteen year olds were “supposed” to do.l. So they yelled at me and nagged at me and belittled me until I found a job, which I was terrified to go to every day and which I sucked at so bad that they eventually just stopped putting me on the schedule, essentially firing me without having to go through the trouble of telling me I was fired. (I was so embarrassed by this that I didn’t tell my parents, and instead just continued putting in my work uniform and pretending to go to work several days a week. When my parents eventually found out, they yelled at me and belittled me for lying. Later, a psychologist would insist that I’d actually quit my job without notice in order to go out and do things I wasn’t supposed to do. He insisted because he said no boss would just stop putting an employee on the schedule with no explanation. But that is what happened. Of course it never occurred to me to ask the boss what was going on, and also I was a little relieved whenever I wasn’t on the schedule anyways because I hated being there. But I digress…) 

So doing stuff with my neurodivergent people group is hard because, first of all, watching the others be supported by their family members. Nobody is pulling them aside to yell at them for making faces or not wearing fashionable clothes. Nobody is berating them for being immature. Nobody is insisting that they do things they hate doing or aren’t ready for. (How many times was I forced to play volleyball at family gatherings because “that’s what we’re doing…”)

And also it’s just hard for me to connect with others. I guess I’m also a little on guard there because I look so young, a lot of them assume I’m around their age, and if I talk to them I feel like I’m lying to them, like I’m one of those adults who tries to fake like they’re a kid in order to get free services from foster care or public school. But also I’m way too embarrassed to say how old I really am and have everybody do the “What?  Seriously? Oh my God, everyone come here, guess how old Angel is” thing. 

And so I’m lonely, even there, in a place where I should belong. 

But kayaking was fun.

And Sunday going to the river with Chuck was fun. And also I have to interject, Chuck does a lot of supportive things for me, and my aunt used to when I first lived with her. So I am finally getting some support and help and understanding from a parent-like person. It’s just hard to realize what I missed out on for so many years, and it almost feels like it’s too late for me, I’m too far gone.

I was gonna post a picture of me on the river from yesterday, but Blogger isn’t letting me upload it, so maybe you can see it another day.

Also check out my new “business” website!