When I was a child, I liked The Little Prince. A boy alone on a tiny planet - I identified with that. My world is small. My inner life transpires beneath a dome, limited as if by my real skull. The landscape is level and there are no drops. I like limits and I dislike surprises. I've designed myself to some degree, but there is an immutable way I am.
I've tried recently to be more conscious of my boundaries. I know better now how I can change and how I cannot. I lack emotional depth and my experience of self isn't very complex. I'm not flat; I'm three dimensional, but my dimensions are small. My facets aren't blank, but they are plain. I'm mostly OK with my own simplicity, but sometimes I don't want to notice it. When I try to interact with someone who's more emotionally or cognitively sophisticated than I am, I become confused. Many people stand, in their dealings with me, past boundaries beyond which I can't expand no matter what. This is embarrassing because I want to be normal. I'm afraid of seeming disabled.
I don't know how I seem to other people. I don't know what people think about. Everything in my inner world is miniature: empathy, imagination, attention, theory of mind. If I presume that I always make a good impression, then I risk making a fool of myself. If I presume nothing, then I risk coming to lean on my obstacles rather than considering efforts to overcome them. If I resolve to try to work out what kind of impression I actually do leave, I inevitably find myself pondering a void. So, erring I tell myself on the side of caution, I presume that I always leave a bad impression.
Autism, social anxiety, learning disabilites, PTSD, low self-esteem, depression. It's all one monster: gestalt self doubt nourished by its constituent parts in a terrible cycle. My ego is stunted already - small like the rest of my planet. Now, after abuse and isolation, it is also flattened and atrophied. I am undoubtedly a creative and compassionate individual with a pleasant personality. But I'm also a lone man in a tiny world. I feel that as much as I feel anything good, if not a little more most of the time.
I've tried recently to be more conscious of my boundaries. I know better now how I can change and how I cannot. I lack emotional depth and my experience of self isn't very complex. I'm not flat; I'm three dimensional, but my dimensions are small. My facets aren't blank, but they are plain. I'm mostly OK with my own simplicity, but sometimes I don't want to notice it. When I try to interact with someone who's more emotionally or cognitively sophisticated than I am, I become confused. Many people stand, in their dealings with me, past boundaries beyond which I can't expand no matter what. This is embarrassing because I want to be normal. I'm afraid of seeming disabled.
I don't know how I seem to other people. I don't know what people think about. Everything in my inner world is miniature: empathy, imagination, attention, theory of mind. If I presume that I always make a good impression, then I risk making a fool of myself. If I presume nothing, then I risk coming to lean on my obstacles rather than considering efforts to overcome them. If I resolve to try to work out what kind of impression I actually do leave, I inevitably find myself pondering a void. So, erring I tell myself on the side of caution, I presume that I always leave a bad impression.
Autism, social anxiety, learning disabilites, PTSD, low self-esteem, depression. It's all one monster: gestalt self doubt nourished by its constituent parts in a terrible cycle. My ego is stunted already - small like the rest of my planet. Now, after abuse and isolation, it is also flattened and atrophied. I am undoubtedly a creative and compassionate individual with a pleasant personality. But I'm also a lone man in a tiny world. I feel that as much as I feel anything good, if not a little more most of the time.
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