Burnout [aka Expectations]

Autism is expectations. And trying too hard. And people thinking they know more than you do, whether they are parents, or professionals, siblings, or friends. People being convinced that they know more about how your life is than your life is.

Autism is expectations about what you can do, and can't do. Whether its because you are supposed to do things because clearly you can, or supposed to do them differently, or supposed to not be able to, its people declaring what your life is able to be, whether they are sharing the statements explicitly or not.

It's expectations, and them being forced upon you. You need to be able to work a normal shift. You need to be able to cook. You need to be verbal always if you are verbal ever. You need to be verbal never if you have the label attached to you.

It's expectations, and them seeping through your life, people claiming to support, when they're not listening to you, but to what they think you should be like. People planning out their view of what someone like you looks like. People planning out what someone with your skills will do, creating inspiration porn of you before you've even gone and done anything for them to be "inspired" by besides be born.

It's expectations, and them making you try to hard, because its exhausting to have people telling you how much you let them down all the time. Exhausting to know how much they're building expectations, and then you're breaking them. Exhausting to know that you're failing them, over and over again. Because you've been taught you need to be normal. You need to meet these expectations. You need to do what they think of you.

It's expectations, and you failing them. Because you can't do it. You can't go out there and do what others have created - a perfect neurotypical life, for an autistic person. You can't go out and do it - a life where you don't run out of spoons, don't get sensory overload, don't lose speech, don't, don't, don't.

And then. You break.

Again.

And you fall.

fall.

fall.

Needing help, and unable to get it.

Because the expectation is that you're just fine.

Don't you know, you aren't really impaired.

Tears

You're so socially aware.

But that doesn't help me, as I curl up in tears, aware that there's a problem, but not aware enough to do a thing. My awareness is only enough to tell me that I do not know enough. It is enough to tell me that I am causing problems. It is enough to tell me that people are in pain. It is enough to tell me that people around me are hurting.

It is not enough to tell me how to stop it; how to help.

You're so articulate.

But that doesn't help me, as I try not to cry, not being able to sort out the words that I need to use. It only tells me that I need to choose words carefully, not what they are. That my words can make others feel, can change others thoughts, not what to do when I'm the one that is lost and confused.

What do I do when I'm trying to help, but feel I can only hurt?

You're so high functioning they always repeat. Finding new ways to say this idea. You aren't impaired. You do not struggle. Your life is a breeze, and others relate. Others hear you, others understand, communication is not a challenge for you. How can it be, when you speak so well? When you type out things I enjoy so much?

What of those tears? What of the lost and feeling alone, wanting and needing to make myself heard. What of the not knowing myself, or of not knowing how to get it all out?

What of the trying, and needing to know, of the the tears of the others unintentionally caused. What of the needing to know of the mistakes, and the guilt, and the blame. And still not knowing of a thing to change.

What of the tears that are denied yet again? For I want to do good, and am afraid because I don't know how, and instead seem to cause pain.