screaming into the void

The thing about "level 1 autism" and "low support needs" is that it's a fucking joke. Sure , I can dress myself (most of the time, with clothing I have specifically chosen and tailored to be the most comfortable with), and brush my teeth (I constantly forget to brush my teeth, or avoid it, since the activity change is distressing at night ), and get groceries (only at specific times of day where the supermarket isn't busy, since maneuvering with so many people around is fucking stressful). I can cook (large amounts of food at once that I save for the next few days, since I don't have the energy or the mind to cook everyday). I shower by myself (every other day, if I remember. Showering is stressful, same as brushing my teeth, since it's an activity change.) I go to the bathroom on my own (again, I hold it in often since I don't like to switch activities). I go to the doctor's office on my own (I can never communicate directly with the doctors, and I have several undiagnosed illnesses that give me chronic issues that leave me unable to work menial labor jobs, the only jobs that are low-stress for me ). I go to social events (where I never speak and make no friends). I got good grades in school (and dropped out of college since I was unable to communicate my needs with the school and professors, on top of simply being unable to handle the course load). I can have a job (I've never kept one for more than 6 months, and I've had panic attacks while working at every job I've worked). I can drive (if the route is simple enough and I'm not in emotional distress). I have DID from the amount of trauma I've acquired (which makes it hard to remember dates, what to do at my job, and headmates engage in risky behavior or simply drop all responsibilities from stress).

Thoughts that shouldn't be calming are calming to me in extreme distress. I like to think that I deserved it, or i was raped because I was particularly cute. It's more comforting than thinking/knowing I was just an easy target. I like to think about killing and eating my abusers graphically in a cheery, sing-song tone. If I did that, I wouldn't have to worry anymore. It would be all gone and I'd have nothing to feel bad about! I don't actually want to but I have incest fantasies projected onto fictional characters because it imagines a world where I'm paid attention to and loved. The only mode of love I could grasp was romantic/sexual love because familial love didn't mean anything to me as a child / I did not receive it.

i never felt like my mom loved me. i know this. i know this clearly. i knew shes the reason behind at least two of my countless suicide attempts. I know that i am incapable of comforting other people since no one comforted me. i know i hate her for reasons i dont understand. i know if she made smarter decisions she would have never had me . ive never felt wanted, or special. the only time my mom would give me praise was when i had good grades. my drawings were nothing, my interesting were nothing. i know this, but i can't make a cohesive narrative from this. what does this mean?