Being Anti-Social Allows Me to Enjoy You MORE
Antisocial behavior I engage in as a strategically masking, high-functioning autistic woman— that allows me to be more social and enjoy MY FREAKING LIFE.
First, I take up space. Women in particular are drilled to make ourselves smaller in every gddamn way. Listen, I’m a tall girlie with long assss limbs OK, and I love taking up my space. I love doing that. Not more than I need, but definitely not less.
For example (POR EJEMPLO!) on a recent hike, I was walking across a bridge with a lovely view of the forest. Simultaneous, I noticed a woman above the bridge taking a photo and realized I was very clearly exactly in her frame. But I just continued walking. I didn’t stop, move aside, or perform any apologetic social niceties (read: tedious apologetic social niceties). Moments later, I realized as I passed her, that she likely perceived me as rude for not performing the expected pro-social fauxpology. However, I hate that and don’t want to do that at FREAKING ALL.
Any autistic person could tell you the exact moment the energy shifts, even if we can’t quite pinpoint what caused it. In this case, I knew what caused it. However, discerning the cost-benefit analysis of performing scripted politeness, and choosing to stay connected to myself instead, feels good. And the alternative participating interpersonal courtesies that don’t resonate with me—feels bad. It takes from me. Death by a thousand paper cuts.
Similarly, when out and about FREAKING LIFE, I don’t smile at people needlessly, senselessly. Honestly, its creepy. Stop doing that. Furthermore, there is something about my face (my aura, my energy, what have you) that invites people to engage with me if I give an iota of context that I may be open to a conversation. And that is fine. However, for the love of God, sometimes I just want to order my espresso, listen to the same 27 songs until my ears bleed, typing 90 WPM, peaking TF out on my stimulant medication. I don’t smile (OK sometimes I laugh at the shit I say in my own head to myself, because gddamn I am so freaking funny). LISTEN, I’ve got shit I gotta do!!! That doesn’t mean I’m not pleasant. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t engage in small talk if the time, space, and medication window were appropriate. However, that window is a window—it is not a panorama.
That said, post-completion of my tasks and when I’m feeling good about my positioning, I love to chat with the individuals in my vicinity. I love it. I’m a nosy bitch (Honestly, being a psychic medium is an perfect job for me, I just like to know things). When my interests and intentions are fueled by genuine curiosity and not people-pleasing, interfacing with other humans is a lovely endeavour. Lovely. Simply nothing life it. Listen, I might not smile at you, but I’ll be interested in you in approximately 45-75min. These eyes—these are “LET ME IN” eyes.
THIRD antisocial behavior—I remove people from my life without warning. Well, or rather, I’ve been warning them, but it seems seldom that they get it at all (and they call me socially inept). It’s amazing—you tell someone, verbatim, “Hey, this relationship is not functioning for me. Let’s problem-solve this.” And they think I’m joking or something. Who knows.
Sometimes I’ll know years in advance that a relationship will end. And even though I’m psychic, I don’t necessarily know when—I JUST BE KNOWING. It’s bittersweet to just let it run its course, but what else is there to do. But when the relationship has reached its completion, I bow the fvck out. It always surprises me when the other party seems surprised, like my guy, I’ve only been trying to address this for eons. How did they not see it coming? Listen this could, and should, be mutual, if only you could see it.
Just because a connection is no longer connecting, that doesn’t mean the ending has to be complete ghosting. But it FREAKING MIGHT BE. In instances where I clocked jealousy or passive aggressiveness, I will cut you TF out. Snip snip. I’d rather be a bitch than a doormat.
THIRD AND FINAL (for now). The blunt, flat affect. I fvcking love a good flat affect. It just screams - I’m a freaking weirdo !!!!!
Contorting and cementing disingenuous facial expressions and tonal inflections onto my affect is so freaking draining and honestly freaking frivolous. Pre-diagnosis, a night out would leave me unable to answer my messages or utter a word to another human for the following 36–72 business hours. Bummer.
So while I recognize I probably likely evoke the uncanny valley effect, I do not care. Expressing myself in a manner that is effortless (ie flat as day old soda) allows me to be operational post social events.
I recognize that in all of these instances, I am likely making myself unlikable. On my Instagram page, prior to finding my very supportive following, I was frequently called or accused of being a narcissist or a psychopath. This fascinating and not at all insulting (new special interest unlocked). I read this perceived coldness as evidence that I have covered an incredible span of ground in releasing my people-pleasing tendencies in a short amount of time. Honestly, incredible.
Every time I’m called a bitch, a psychopath, or a narc, I beam inside. I’ve come so far. I love that I’ve developed the intrinsic confidence that allows me to enjoy my life more seemlessly. I’ve come so far from a life and lifestyle that was strictly characterized by me placing my needs second, third… always last.
And mind you, I’ve always felt that true intrinsic reward and self-confidence will always read as arrogance to people who haven’t done the work to earn it.
I don’t prioritize perception anymore. I’m a 32-year-old woman who had to take medical leave due to chronic fatigue. That kind of burnout doesn’t come from nowhere. It’s not solved by drinking water or getting more sleep—it’s nervous system exhaustion.
And if being a bit off-putting to others also exponentially increases my wellbeing, that’s a trade off everyone would make. Kthanksloveyoubye :)
