Perhaps some of my Aspie friends can relate to this. As I said yesterday, my life is imploding not so slowly. The Bartender telling me that we cannot even see each other anymore, ever, because he can’t see a world in which he can have me and his daughter at the same time was the straw that broke the camel’s back, as they say.
I spent yesterday throwing myself into writing projects, meanwhile some part of me was processing all the emotions from the day before. Learning I was not pregnant, when I thought I was, and losing the only man who has ever treated me like a princess on the same day, after he told me he could imagine how handsome our son would be… Who fucking says that?! Especially if they know they are going to throw the other person away?!
As I was processing all my feelings, slowly, very slowly, I would send him a Facebook message as the feelings hit me.
In hindsight, this is the exact opposite of that “hide your crazy” thing people tell me I should do. I shouldn’t have sent him what I was feeling as I felt it. But I had wanted him to stay because of the overwhelming rush of feelings as he was leaving without giving me any choices as to my own future, on what had been arguably the hardest day of my life emotionally. Ever.
I needed him to understand what it’s like for me. He seems to think that being an Aspie just means that I take things literally, which I can sometimes work around.
To him it’s just like the horrible joke the Boy’s friends told that led to the Boy telling me “It’s just a fucking joke…” and looking at me with that look that says I’m an idiot. They told this joke in which the basic gist was that the Boy wasn’t allowed in the Statue of Liberty because he had created a mess the equivalent of when they destroy the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in the first Ghostbusters movie.
Only in their joke, it was… biological material that he shot all over the inside of the Statue.
Obviously such a thing is physically impossible, but because I didn’t laugh immediately when they told the joke, and I was trying to analyze why it was funny, including trying to figure out exactly how such a thing would be possible, the Boy made a big fuss and said “it’s just a fucking joke.” Thus I became the butt of the joke because I was too “dumb” to get the damned thing.
And because I relive the feelings every time I remember it, it still hurts that someone I cared about would make me the butt of a joke that wasn’t funny in the first place…
But to the Bartender, that’s all there is to it. I’ve sent him several videos to watch to help him understand, but I think he doesn’t really care. To him it’s unnecessary because it doesn’t matter to him how I think. It doesn’t really matter to him that I don’t understand what he says sometimes, or that I take him at his word 100% of the time. He doesn’t really get it that sometimes I don’t understand when I’m breaking social rules.
And he is too nice to tell me that what I’m doing is unacceptable. Instead, he just ignores the behavior, I think, which I often take (because in the past it has meant this) to mean that I have indeed broken some rule, or said something scary or inappropriate, or that I’ve been misunderstood.
Then, instead of just letting it go, I keep trying to fix it. I try rewording it in a way that might make sense to a non-Aspie, like I would in my classroom. I’ll repeat the same information 3 or 4 different ways in order to help the kids get it, and because of that, it makes me a very effective teacher! Except for when I get overwhelmed and end up in some sort of Anxiety-induced panic attack that makes my heart go wonky, which happened a lot until we finally got me on a medication that seems to be helping.
But in a relationship, especially when you’re already unintentionally bothering the other person, repeating yourself ten different ways isn’t helpful. It scares people away.
And I don’t know how else to be. Especially because he will see my posts and then not say anything at all.
And then I feel the need to restate it a different way. Again.
Add to that the fact that I’m still processing and I’ve hit full on analytical robot mode. I went to a diner (not my normal one… it’s closed), and I put my headphones in and the waiter kept asking me if I was okay. I realized in the middle of a really long explanation to the Bartender of exactly how I felt about what he has since proposed for us (friends but only on the phone and via text and whatnot), and why I needed more information from his end to accept his offer, in the middle of that, I realized that I had hit robot mode.
No facial expressions. No emotions. Just data.
In fact that is a very accurate description. I became Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. I am like an android currently trying to establish what these things called emotions are, and why do people act in such irrational ways.
And then the more I tried to understand, the longer my messages became, and the longer my messages became the more some little part of me was screaming in my head that this was the wrong way to handle things.
“Humans don’t act like this!!!”
And so I finally realized that I’m in a shutdown, but a semi-functional shutdown. This is new, and so it feels like some form of progress. I’m aware that I’ve shut off my emotions and am functioning on logic alone.
Unfortunately, the damage may be done. I may have scared away the Bartender for good because I’ve blown his phone up all day long with Facebook messages… long, rambling, unfeeling, and potentially offensive because they are analyzing how people don’t legitimately care for one another and thus may be misconstrued to suggest that he is just another of the heartless people who pretended to care for me when in reality I was just an object of his amusement.
You know, like that exotic toy that gets put back on the shelf when he’s done with me… I no longer have purpose and as an object, I have no need to get an explanation as to why I’m expendable.
But he tells me I should demand to be treated like a princess.
Perhaps that means that he should have put me on a pedestal when he was done with me to make the metaphor more correct.
I find myself wondering right now why people don’t say what they actually mean. In the beginning, he had promised me that there would be complete and total honesty. But he was keeping a total part of his life a secret from me, because he knew that he was planning to get rid of me, and instead of letting me know ahead of time so I could make arrangements, he just hit me with it on, as I’ve said, the Worst. Day. Ever.
It’s like when people volunteer to help you move. They don’t really want to help you move. And they are secretly hoping you won’t actually ask, but they wouldn’t dare to admit such a thing.
I just don’t understand it.
And because of the way he handled things, I find myself wondering if he ever cared about me at all, or if it was all part of the ruse.
Like, instead of just having a conversation about where things were going with us…or rather where they weren’t going with us… he decided to give me the perfect date. He held me close, he kissed the top of my head, he snuggled with me, he held my hand, he did all the things that a loving person does. And then left me crying in a ball in the bathroom because I couldn’t handle the flood of emotions and stimuli that were coming at me from the day.
And he said he did it so we would have a good memory to end on… A false memory. A charade. And if he could fake all of that, was he faking about imagining what could have been our child? Was he faking when he told me he loved me? It puts everything said into question.
Or was the date the reality, and him getting rid of me the falsehood? Is he getting rid of me because the other was too real?
And thus I’m in a logic loop and something had to shut down.
I cannot human today. If you need me, I’ll be in bed imagining my island where people love and respect me. A place where I am the norm, and not an outcast unworthy of love. Where people don’t throw other people away to make their own lives easier…