as small as a world and as large as alone

9:15am December 22, 2013

madeofpatterns:

youneedacat:

madeofpatterns:

youneedacat:

madeofpatterns:

It’s different when you have these inner concepts, this inner form of cognition and you have *no way of connecting that to words*. (Or anything else other people can understand.)

I had that. And sometimes I felt like my soul was trapped in the middle of all these distorting mirrors and stuff.

It’s still hard for me to believe some of my communication problems are real.

Because I can talk. And I can have really good conversations, even verbally. Get me in the right context, in the right time, and I can do all these things.

And I write a blog. And I have a lot of good words. I am good at words.

But then there’s all the things I can’t say. And all the contexts in which I can’t communicate well. And the ones I avoid because I know I won’t be able to, to the point where I don’t even notice anymore.

But even writing this, I think I’m faking it for attention.

This makes me so angry at the sort of people who start rumors that disabled people are faking things for attention.

I’m also like… I’m *confused*, and I’m not sure what’s going on with me, and I’m trying various things to see if they help, and I’m probably getting some of it wrong. And that’s a different thing from faking stuff.

One of my friends says one of the reasons I respond so over-intensely to accusations of fraud is that I still haven’t gotten over the suspicion that I’m somehow a fraud myself.  And most of the reasons I think I am are complete bullshit along the lines of “I’m not a stereotype in every area so I must be faking SOMEthing.”  But also a lot of crap that comes from years and years of not knowing who I was and making stuff up to try to have something to be and… etc.  Even though that was a long time ago, it still makes me think that, even though today I’m as true to myself as I’ve ever been.  It’s totally confusing.

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