They start out thinking I'm countercultural - rather childlike and effervescent yet also "cool" because of my taste in music and my ease with teens and young adults. They're fascinated by my synaesthesia, my social cluelessness, my integrity, and my overwhelming dedication to anything or anyone I love. They say I make them feel young again, and I'm refreshing like a breath of fresh air.
I'm seen as "low maintenance" since simple things bring me joy. I don't want cars or trips or bling. It's very easy to win my heart if you keep things on the down-low, avoiding the trappings of modern life. Hand me a book, play me a song, and I'm good.
Fast forward in the friendship. They think I'll be adaptable and able to act "their way" sometimes, like a compromise. What if we just go to this social function and relax all day tomorrow? No. Even when I try, I'm so far out of my element I can't cope. I become stressed and it might take me a month to recover. What if I need bright lights right now? No. I'll have to go in another room with blindfolds and ear defenders. Can we talk about this with heartfelt emotions? Uh, I'll try but probably go mute and not have a clue what to say because of Alexithymia. I'd prefer to talk in writing, even with my loved ones. Even then it might take me months to know how I feel, or reply.
They start to see that my "simple" lifestyle is extraordinarily complex in terms of sensory overwhelm and social disdain. It's not that I don't want to compromise, but most of the time I can't. They start thinking I don't love them, or I'm not willing to "try". I hate that word try. They have no idea how much effort it takes just to exist in a body so broken by ASD/ ADHD / strokes, and trauma. They don't understand that demand nearly always exceeds my capacity, especially since I'm smart.
What you see is what you get with me. Unfortunately, most people in my life come to a conclusion that I'm more trouble than I'm worth. Their fairy-tale vision of my simple life suddenly seems too complicated, and it overwhelms them.
They're allowed to be overwhelmed but I'm not, and that's usually the final straw.
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I never give you my number, I only give you my situation.
Beatles