But that's okay. No one can truly understand all that another person is. Maybe it's healthier that way.
I mean, I think when we say, no one understands me, what is really meant is that I wish I could find someone else who has had a life or experiences similar to mine so that I don't feel so lost and alone in my personal anguish.
I get excited when I find other Aspies and discover I'm not the only one who struggles with the seemingly mundane yet anxiety-ridden daily tasks. I'm not the only one that flips out at loud noises, yelling and bright lights. There are others like me.
It's as if we speak a different language than neurotypicals in that we say what we mean and use words in a way that only we understand. There's a reverberance, a resonance when talking or writing amongst ourselves that isn't found outside our autistic group.
It's funny, I've found there are basically two types of Aspies. One is quiet and introverted and the other is loud, mildly dramatic and verbose. That's it, in my book, two categories. Being the quiet type, I am drawn to others like myself though I have made brief acquaintances in the later category.
It conjures up the image of a flock of sheep and a pack of wolves. Autistic and Neurotypical. Sheep congregate best together with their soft, passive, gentle, intelligent and innocent nature, wanting little more than to be safe, fed, respected and heard. Wolves have an unpredictable temperament. They enjoy the hunt, the running, vying back and forth yet continually seeking the lead. That's okay but I'm the opposite of that and wolves kinda frighten me, you know?
Everyone wants to be understood. Seeking the company of one's own kind is often reassuring.
You are not alone. I have had similar experiences. I get the loneliness aspect. I understand the confusion and challenges.
I live in my own little bubble...but I can see you and understand a bit about you in your bubble.
