A day in my head

Disclaimer: This post talks about PTSD, trauma, and victimhood mentalities from a personal perspective in a way that I hope allows us to view things through a more nuanced lens.

In this entry I try to make a distinction between circumstances inherent of the human experience and *actual* trauma. But here’s the thing – no one gets to decide what that looks like except YOU.

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I DID THAT ONE TIK TOK TREND... 

You know the one where you take a picture and let Tik Tok choose the song that fits you….

 

And this 'poor me, life is hard' song is what it chose.

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At first I thought “ah, a soundtrack to give people a victimhood mentality - very shareable for attention...” And there's psychology to back it up. ​

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When someone adopts a victim identity it can give them a strong sense of self if they feel lost, powerless, or otherwise overlooked.

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It can give them a sense of a moral high ground because it comes with a perceived moral purity. They were the ones wronged, so they’re the good ones.

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It can attract social attention and sympathy. The list goes on... 

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So, yes, there are a lot of self serving reasons why people love to share things like this. They like to share a "look-how hard-my-life-has-been” outpouring, to a bunch of other people experiencing the exact same things.  

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At points in my childhood, we were pretty poor.  There was a time where we were on government funded food stamps, living in a cockroach infested apartment, where I slept on a mattress on the floor because I didn’t have my own bed. I remember our landlord breaking into our home, and another time of being assaulted by some nasty neighborhood kids. I remember desperately wanting new clothes from time to time and I knew we could only afford thrift store items. I wished I could have newer clothes like my peers. To this day I still remember two new outfits that my parents bought me, and how good they made me feel. I could describe them to you in detail if asked, but let’s not drag this entry out unnecessarily.

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My parents fought in front of me.. A LOT. I had to walk on eggshells around my dad because he was quick to anger. Don’t get me wrong... He was a good man and a hard worker. He never harmed me, but the eggshells were thin. I now know my dad was autistic, and his anger probably stemmed, at least in part, from not understanding why the world was so hard for him.

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When I got older, I found letters from my mom to my grandfather asking for financial help to avoid evictions, and heard more stories of just how hard their marriage was at times. 

 

So what's my point? My point is, that many people might hear these stories and think I must have had a traumatic childhood, but I can authentically say I had the happiest childhood of anyone I know.

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I had the best privilege that anyone could ask for which was an intact home. A mom and dad that stuck it out, took me to church, and showed me what hard work and commitment looked like. 

 

I played outside, and because I didn’t have stuff handed to me, it caused me to use my imagination in practical ways. I was allowed to practice safety and more independence with less guard rails, and enjoy the small stuff.

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According to psychology, the most important things a child can have is a feeling of love and safety and security. I had those things. I am able to recognize and be thankful for the fact I live in a first world country where I have freedom, access to food, clean water, and shelter.

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There’s a difference between hardships and suffering that are a natural part of the human condition, and real PTSD stemming from trauma and abuse. 

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So, I almost deleted this "whoa is me" video… BUT, something still rang true to me about it.

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“Look at how far she’s come”…

 

“You have no idea what she’s been through”…

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But WHY?

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If my childhood didn't qualify as trauma in my mind, what on earth would? Why did I still have this feeling in the back of my mind like I had experienced trauma and couldn’t put my finger on what it was?

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And then it hit me, that growing up autistic was the trauma.  

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It wasn’t my mom or dad, it wasn’t growing up poor, it wasn’t any abuse or a traumatic life changing event…

It was living inside a differently wired brain in a world not meant for me.

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People with autism often score higher on PTSD scales, and they are also at a higher risk of developing PTSD compared to their neurotypical peers.

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The social rejection, self hatred, bullying, and increased sensory sensitivities that almost gas lit me into thinking I was crazy.

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Trying to do life on hard mode and putting in twice as much effort as others to do simple things, constant rumination and thought spirals, crippling loneliness, and daily exhaustion of masking and camouflaging. Basically, nothing life has thrown at me can compare. 

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It was almost like an invisible 300lb weight that’s been holding me down my whole life that I could feel but couldn’t see. 

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I guess you could say people really have “no idea what I’ve been through,” because it’s so hard to describe what it’s like to be trapped inside an autistic and ADHD brain in a way that people could truly understand, unless they've experienced it for themselves.

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And, I guess you could say I have come a long way, too.

 

It takes a lot of strength to live in this world as a neurodivergent person My diagnosis was a huge turning point in my life but it didn't suddenly make everything all better. What it did do was give me an understanding of myself in a way that allowed me to stop beating myself up so much, and that’s something.

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