Bad Dreams Suck

I just woke up.  Actually that is a lie.  My eyes are open, and I’m typing, but really, I’m still asleep.  Still…  I want to write this down before it eludes me, as dreams are wont to do.

The dream I just had was filled with its fair share of normal dream like behaviour with storylines clashing, and scenery changing at a whim.  However I’ll do my best to form a cohesive storyline through some of the muddle.

I was outside my grandmothers house, crying.  Bawling really.  I didn’t matter.  Not to anyone.  Sure, people were putting on a good show, but when it came down to it, I was expected to put on a good show too.  I was expected to put on a good show, then shut the fuck up and go away.

There was a fight with an uncle over some bread.  The bread wasn’t as important as the basis for the fight, which was that nobody cared about me.  Everyone else got what they wanted for dinner, but when it came for my turn, there was not much left and nobody cared.  Nobody wanted to know.  I was insignificant.

I tried to tell everyone how I felt, but this only caused more argument.  People didn’t want to know.  They didn’t want to listen.  They wanted me to smile and be happy and shut the fuck up.  My cousin had bought me a present to make me feel better, and I tried to explain to my grandmother, who was insisting that this would solve everything and I should say thank you and smile, that it didn’t solve anything at all, because it didn’t even start to address even one of my issues.  It was a cover up.  A sleight of hand designed to accomplish silence.  Worse still, it turned everything around so that one of my tormentors looked like an angel when they were really anything but.  It may seem like she cared, but she didn’t want to listen either.  She didn’t want to know.  She didn’t want to care.  She just wanted my problems to leave her life and buying me something was the quickest and easiest way to accomplish this.

So I ended up on the curb, bawling, and not long after that, I ended up inside, packing to run away, and considering just killing myself instead.

I wanted to die SO badly.

And then I half woke up, and realised that my dream is simply an extension of how I have been really feeling lately.  Really feeling.  There isn’t much about my illness that I can’t find a joke about somehow, and I regularly cause someone in my Facebook feed to say “I’m not sure whether I should laugh or not”, because I’ve made a joke about this dislocation, or that major medical issue.  I don’t want to be one of those people that constantly goes on about every little thing like it’s the end of the world as we know it.

Sometimes though, I need to talk.  Really talk.  About the bad stuff.  Yet, no one wants to know.  No one wants to listen.  In real life, my grandmother really does say things like “it will get better”, even though she knows full well that it will not.  It’s her way of ignoring the problem.  It’s her way of silencing me.  It’s her way of saying “I don’t want to think about bad things, so shut up”.

I have a friend.  At least, I think I still do.  Once, I felt comfortable enough in our friendship to rock up at her house at 3 in the morning, and stay for two months.  Now…  Now I just don’t know.  She has been “going to visit” for a few years now, and I’m starting to wonder if the friendship is really so, or if it is just politeness on her part that she hasn’t verbally told me it’s over.

Having Aspergers, people need to actually tell me these things.  As one poor chap in high school found out after he decided to dump me by ignoring me and I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on.

It’s possible I have friends I could call, but honestly, I’ve lost so many of them, that I am scared to call anyone.  I also know I haven’t been the best of friends myself.  I have good reasons, and the following crap to get through:  First of all, I have to find a time when my ASD kids are not yelling/screaming/demanding attention.  Now I have two pretty good kids, but still, they are time consuming.  And loud.  And phone calls are something which usually can not happen until at least 10pm, which is too late for most of my working friends who have to get up early in the morning.  I also have to find time when I am not exhausted myself.  Or in too much pain.  Then there is the Aspie part of me that has “get up and go” trouble…  I have had the money for a bill sitting in my bank account for the last two weeks, and all I have had to do to pay it is to log on and do a BillPay – three clicks, enter an amount, two clicks and I’m done.  It has taken me two weeks to summon the will and energy to do this.  Most of the time, calling friends just isn’t something I can do.  I mean, I can talk to them if they call me, that’s fine.  However they have to call me.  It isn’t the talking itself that is the issue but the making of the call, and I understand that this is something most people will not understand.

I wish for friends (and family) that I could visit on a whim.  I wish for friends (and family) that I could call on a whim.  I wish there was someone in my life I could unload on and know, really KNOW, for damn sure, that they weren’t just listening to be polite, and hoping I would shut the fuck up.  I wish I could be honest about my life sometimes, instead of constantly having to put a good face on things.  Some days, I want to scream and shout and yell at the universe about the unfairness of it all.  It IS unfair.  It DOES suck.  And I wish I could be honest about that without society going mad at me for it because I am bringing them down.

What the fuck about ME???

I need help to come out of my hole.  I need help to get out and get my life back.  I have done my part.  I have moved and downsized and I’m all dressed up and ready to go, but I need help with the actual “going”.  And I need to talk with someone.  I need to be honest sometimes about just how crappy life is for me some days.

Instead, I’m just going to put on a happy face and secretly hope to die while feeling terribly alone.

Post Script – after writing the above, I went and had a shower and spent some time with my eldest son and did a little bit of Facebook.  I ended up bawling and defriending someone.  We were not close.  He was being cryptic to the point that I didn’t know if he was talking about me or not, and he had deleted the thread causing problems, so I couldn’t check that either and really, I just don’t have the time or inclination to try and second guess whether I need to explain something or not.  I can’t read minds.  If you want to know something, ask me.  Anyway, right now, I think maybe the problem is me.  I think I just suck. I don’t get people and I don’t know how to have relationships with them and I just suck.

I am going back to my Terraria hole.  I like it there.  It’s nice.

Disability consumer and activist. Pissed off since 1995... Mad as a hatter since way before that.

Posted in Autism, Mental Health, Personal
One comment on “Bad Dreams Suck
  1. […] though, a dream of mine will be so intense, and so significant, that I do write about it (and have done so before), because I think my subconscious is trying to tell me (or the world) […]

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Pissed off since 1995. Mad as a hatter since way before that.

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