I feel lonely a lot.
It isn’t a loneliness that comes from lack of people around me.
It’s deeper than that.
Like a spiritual loneliness.
I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere.
The older I get, the more accustom to this feeling I become.
But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t bother me sometimes.
I know I have people around me who love me but I sometimes wonder if they really do love me.
I think it’s because I don’t process feelings like those around me do.
I feel things.
But I struggle to verbally express those feelings well.
Or even really process what I’m feeling to a certain extent.
That’s why I write.
Why I have this blog.
Why I prefer text messages to phone calls.
Why I go silent for a period of time when someone opens up to me.
I have oceans of empathy but struggle to articulate said empathy appropriately.
I don’t speak to anyone from my past.
I like it that way.
But I do sometimes miss having USA-relevant comradery among cultural references in jokes and experiences that people in this country don’t necessarily understand (as referenced in a previous post).
Those references aren’t on the same level of spiritual loneliness though.
And they’re fleeting.
I thought my assessment would somehow fill this spiritual loneliness somewhat, which it has, but I think I was naive or expecting too much from the outside world.
Right now, I’m battling being open about my autism or pretending like it’s not there.
I don’t want to hide who I am.
I don’t want to camoflauge.
I don’t want to be exhausted from camoflauging.
I want to be who I am. All of me. Always.
But I’m having a hard time with ignorant comments and/or apathy about high-functioning autism I’ve been receiving in my daily life.
It is making me feel even more lonely, to be honest.
Forever wayward, it seems.
I know it will improve.