Colours to the mast

I have adopted the rainbow flag on my social media thing. On the face of it, it represents the gay pride thing. I'm not gay, but am attracted to blokes. I'm no more proud than ashamed. However what I am doing is sticking my fingers up to prejudice and intolerance.
What it represents too is the autistic spectrum. I certainly do not want any more labels. What I am doing is showing my solidarity with other autistic people of my own age, who have found life such a struggle, and who have never had any support of any description. I'm also showing my solidarity with the younger ones, who have varying levels of success at getting the help that is available but isn't always so easy to access. It's all so very hit and miss. Thinking of you.

The springtime of life

Last night I dreamed that my diagnosis had been sorted out. I felt comfortable for a brief moment when I woke up, until I realized it had been a dream. There are things I am unable to talk about, so I've been writing things down so I can show the man what I really mean.
Early on I started thinking about the time I 'came out'. It was terrible. It was thrashed out of me before I was ready to say anything. The whole thing was a massive guilt trip. It was all about my mum's need for grandchildren, my mum's need for security (her husband), my mum's need for me to have a 'normal' life, my mum's need for me to fit in. As usual I thought everything was my fault. It didn't occur to her to wonder how I might be feeling, or what my needs were. Her indifference to me, which coincided with her second marriage, turned to outright hostility. In the case of her husband, his dislike of me turned to blind hatred. He abused me with the most terrible words and my mum backed him up. It has taken me over three decades to pick up the pieces, and I could never have done so if my mum were still alive. Can you blame me for not wanting to talk about it?

More thinking...

On the bus I also started thinking about relationships. I've never had a 'normal' relationship. It's always been a case of 'pickups'. Notwithstanding my issues with physical contact, when I was young I wanted a relationship above all else. With hindsight I suppose I just wanted to try and be like 'normal' people. If anyone did show interest in me I felt very strange and froze. I could not understand why someone should want to know me.
My one long-term relationship was an unmitigated disaster. It cost me very dear, both in terms of my worldly goods and my mental health. From the beginning he was off shagging all and sundry, and fleecing me at the same time. I was belittled and crushed, both in private and in front of people. I spent nine years being ordered around and told what to do, because I thought I was supposed to. It was awful when I think about it, but I didn't realize it at the time. Sometimes people would have a quiet word with me about the way I was being treated, but I wouldn't listen. I thought they were just making trouble.
When the final separation came I was completely lost, confused, dazed, traumatised. It took me nearly twenty years to finally come to terms with the experience and let it go. Of course I still remember everything, but it's not so near now.
Something inside me still wants a relationship, but I know I could never cope with one.

More autism stuff

I'm trying to unravel another of those knots in my brain. I've been thinking about my relationships, or rather my lack of them.
While I used to have very strong sexual attraction to some people, I've never really enjoyed physical contact. Any contact I did have was never too intimate. Well it was intimate, but not too intimate. I used to think I was a prude, but actually I'm not. Prudes don't like the things I used to like. The more I think about it, I am coming to the conclusion that this great difficulty of mine is nothing more than autism. Of course at that time the idea had never crossed my mind.
Another thing, when I think back, is that it was faces and intellect that have always attracted me. I hadn't a fucking clue how to start a conversation, so wouldn't say anything unless I was spoken to. I certainly couldn't do small talk then, any more than I can now. I couldn't talk about my feelings either cos I don't think I understood them. I'm only starting to understand that side of things now.
No wonder I've never been able to get relationships off the ground. Talking to me must have been like talking to an encyclopaedia.
I had great difficulty maintaining eye contact too. I used to feel terrified when I caught someone's eye, and would always look slightly away from the person. People must have thought I was a head case. Perhaps I am. Who knows?
I feel very sad when I look back. Because of the great handicap caused by my almost complete inability to interact with people, the only experiences I've had with people have been of the casual sort. For a seventeen year old it can be quite exciting, but the thrill soon wears off.
I have gone through life feeling desperately lonely on account of my inability to bond with people. Now that I'm older I don't feel like that anymore. What little wisdom I've obtained tells me that that sort of close relationship is completely impossible for me. I simply could not cope with having someone so near all the time, and I daresay they wouldn't be able to cope with me either.
I don't want anyone to think for one moment that my generally chased life results from any feelings of purity. It doesn't. Oh if only things had been different. What a cunt.