I often find myself quite torn.
Especially when it comes to socialising, even everyday interaction with people. I don’t enjoy it although that is not a reflection of my relationship with people on a personal, individual level.
So I don’t go out much. If we leave the necessity of work out of the equation then I am, if truth be told, a bit of a hermit. Yes I can walk to the shops, interact withshopkeepers and the doctors, everyday, mundane “normal” stuff.
But I don’t socialise.
But there’s a little piece of me that wants more. It’s my social personality. It’s not very big, it’s not very gaudy and it just peeks out occasionally to suggest I should get out more.
And it gets ignored.
I’m not good with people. Okay, correction, I could be very good with people in my dream role. I have been very good with people when placed in a position of control. But, no, not a people person.
So I miss out. I miss the Autistic events (though there’s an element of geographical displacement there as well) where I might meet….would meet, kindred spirits. And that might be a shame. Or a blessing from their perspective!.
I’m actually very introverted. The mask suggests otherwise but I am basically shy and withdrawn. I never know what to say because everyone is much more knowledgeable and intelligent than I am. They know stuff. I always feel dim or stupid and if you have nothing to contribute then you stand there looking out of place, awkward and, ultimately, unwelcome. And nobody shares my interests.
Even amongst my own kind I’d be hideously intimidated.
And I don’t think I’ve got anything that will interest people. I don’t have a talent or a skill that’s useful. Nobody would want to hear me speak (stand up comedy was once suggested by my psychologist!) because I wouldn’t use the language they’d expect. “Dumbed down speaking for high functioning people” would not be a big draw.
I’m very envious of people who seem to flow so naturally with others. Who find their place so easily.
But that’s life.
Part of me wishes I had something, anything, to contribute. Part of me wants to hide away. Part of me says, get out there. Part of me fears for its life.
Perhaps I’m just a coward.
But it’s a puzzle. This attempt to reconcile all my parts. This attempt to find some sort of stability. I’m always torn in so many ways, the ground beneath me is fragile and I fear I’ll fall.
Betwixt ? Between ?.