Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #669
It was a relatively normal day at work. Almost.
...One of the folks from one of the other departments visits us at the bakery sometimes. But he's not gonna come back to work for a bit. His roommate is no longer with us; this roommate purposely rendered his own body permanently uninhabitable sometime between today and last Saturday.
…I can't even begin to imagine how much pain my coworker is going through right now.
Tr didn't think to tell me until today. There's a text stream, I guess, that everyone except me is part of, to support the coworker.
...Maybe it's for the better that I'm not part of it; with the exception of Tr and Ka when she's there, the others seem to avoid me. Sometimes they'll ignore me when I address them. They won't look at me or speak to me unless I tell them “good to see you” first, and even then, it's awkward, uncomfortable smiles and a vague, non-committal response.
...They'll talk to Tr. I've been here for a year, and they still won't talk to me. You know. The jokes that I'm not a “real employee” because I'm only part-time... I'm not entirely sure that they're just jokes.
…
...I wanna support the coworker whose roommate did that to himself. Drop off soups and other ready-to-eat foods at his door because when I'm sad, I don't have energy to cook, and I figure others might feel similarly. Or even to do basic tasks like housework and such; I can do small, simple things to make life a little bit easier.
But... even after a year of being here, I'm still not close enough to him, or... anyone, really... for it to be socially appropriate for me to offer condolences or support without risk of it seeming fake to him, or like I have ulterior motives. At the same time, I know that if I say nothing, they're probably gonna think I'm cold and uncaring; stuff like this has happened before with different people, long ago.
...I don't know what to do. I'm probably fucked either way. I'm not entirely sure that there is a way for autistic people to do the “correct” thing, because it seems like no matter what we do, people always assign the worst possible shit to our intentions.
Also, recently, I asked An whether we are friends or acquaintances; I'm trying to figure out of it's socially appropriate to invite him to a Friendsgiving, if we have one, because November is coming. But instead of answering me, he stopped texting me altogether.
...I think I'm starting to get the point. Tr and Ka... they are nice to me to my face, but... they don't wanna give me more hours unless they absolutely have to, no matter how often I ask. Don't wanna let me help out in other stores. Don't wanna let me help out in other departments.
I wonder if I've become a boogeyman there, of sorts. Like I've become “that guy”, whom everyone else considers vaguely squicky. Like some fascinating exhibit at a freak show – fun to look at, but no one would want it out of the bars of its cage.
Except. It seems like my cage is on the outside, looking in.
...I'm tired. And activated for reasons I'll explain in a little bit. Maybe it's just that, coloring my perception of everything else. Things tend to look spookier than they actually are when I'm under the influence of adrenaline.
…
Well. On the bright side. I did get some pictures of pumpkin-flavored yummies for you:
Pumpkin muffins and pumpkin cookies. We baked a couple extra pumpkin cookies, on purpose. And there were a couple extra raspberry-filled cookies, too. Here. Have a bite.
...I wonder if you would have liked these. Certainly the pumpkin one, but... I dunno. The raspberry one was a little sweet. But it was warm and soft...
...It'd be lovely if I could think of the flavor of something, and the sensation washed over your consciousness, somehow...
…
Not much else of note for work. Though there was a bee in the bakery, for some reason. I tracked it down and captured it in a container:
...I let it outside, where it would be much safer. I tried to explain along the way to people I ran into who might scrutinize me for not being at my post – people a little higher up than me. I explained so that I wouldn't get weird looks for carrying a bee in a container across the whole store, since the bakery is on the opposite side of the entrance.
...Non-autistic people are incredibly, incredibly judgmental for some of the most arbitrary shit.
...Sigh... Sephiroth, sometimes, I... don't think I belong here...
…
Well. I got home. And M was in a good mood. So we went out to lunch, and that was good. I found one more pumpkin thing:
...I can't get this one, though; it's got vodka in it, and even small amounts of it make me feel really sick. Wine and stuff gets me drunk after just one glass (it's why I almost never have anything alcoholic; I hate how it makes me feel), but those don't make me get anxious and weird. Vodka does, even in very small amounts. I stay away from it.
I did get other yummies, though. And so did M.
...And there was plenty leftover to bring home.
I breathed life into today's wishes when we returned:
And then I made the mistake of trying to check in on my former father figure. And he, ah... didn't receive it well. Hence, the state of activation I mentioned earlier.
...
I'm trying not to drown in memories of a time when I wasn't wanted. A time when I was expected to be silent and unseen when I wasn't in use. There were consequences otherwise. His consequences. His expectations. And the expectation was... “I am to be soundless, out of sight, and out of mind until summoned.”
I'm trying not to perceive the world around me with a similar lens where people hate perceiving me. But I'm having mixed success. The adrenaline is sloshing through my brain like a nasty series of tidal waves, and... I'm mostly staying afloat. Mostly. Sort of. It'll pass, I know that much; the only way out is through. The only thing for it is to wait. It do be like that sometimes, and that's all right.
Nonetheless... the world seems very threatening right now. Filled to the brim with lots of disingenuous people itching for excuses to either hurt me or abandon me. And... rationally, I understand that that's not true. And even if it was true, it's not as though I'm helplessly at the mercy of others' whims anymore. But there's too much adrenaline coursing through my veins right now for my body to be able to perceive that clearly.
So I'm going to need my own patience. And my own boundaries. With myself, and with my trauma responses. So... I archived the conversation with my former father figure. I will not reach out a second time; he's likely in too much pain to be able to perceive any outreach as care instead of as a demand. So I'll wait for him to reach out, if he does at all.
I am also done reaching out to An. The fact of the matter is that if he didn't really wanna chill with me or get to know me at all, he should have been up front with that from the get-go. If he's perceiving my words and behaviors weirdly and not communicating with me and not asking me to adjust, then that, too, is on him. I am not a mind reader. I cannot be held accountable for unsaid expectations and needs that I have not been informed of. No one can do that. And I will not torture myself by asking what's wrong with me when the issue is other's lack of ability to communicate; integrity demands that we are up-front about what we need in ways that are direct, but non-hostile, because forcing others to try to read between lines is NOT healthy.
At J's prompting, I took a walk. We talked about the various things. I cried a lot. And all of it was necessary and good. Though I have a bit of a headache now. I'll have to take some ibuprofen and drink water.
...Sometimes, Sephiroth... we try things and they don't work out. And a bad result can leave us reeling. But it's good to try things even when the result is pain. At its most basic, I tried offering presence, support, and comfort; the fact that my former father figure couldn't receive these from me at this time does not mean that I've done something bad by trying. His rejection is not a reflection of my worth. I know this. It's just... a little harder to see than normal, because my adrenaline is swirling around. This particular flashback was a bit stronger than usual, at least in part because takes me back to a time before I discovered you; I had literally nothing keeping me afloat back then. But... despite the depth of this one, I managed it better than past me would have.
...It's unpleasant. But ultimately, it's just an opportunity to practice my coping skills. And the more often I practice those, the better I'll be at managing the flashback next time. We don't get better at managing flashbacks by avoiding them; that usually makes them worse with time. We get better when we face them, coping skills in hand, and preferably with supportive others nearby, to remind us that we're safe and in the present.
...I'll be all right. But tomorrow, I'm probably gonna rest. Possibly cut up some zombies in Dead Cells. But not until after getting back from a singing thing with J; he wanted me along with him tomorrow. I haven't heard him sing in so long, and he has such a beautiful voice; I'm eager to go.
To that end... I have to go to bed. Up early-ish tomorrow. Dunno how long J and I will be at the place. I want to be not a zombie. We'll see how I do.
I love you. And I'm gonna have faith that you'll be safe out there.
I'll write again tomorrow. Good night.
Your friend, Lumine
