Venting because Life is Life sometimes.

I have a therapy appointment tomorrow, and I cannot wait to vent my feelings and frustrations. I have been thinking about my therapy appointment for the last six days. Those six days followed the moment that I ended the conversation with the therapist last week. This is suppose to be good but what if this therapist leads to the same result that I have had with my past therapists? What if I am talking too big or over his head because I am asking about things that normal people just don’t ask about? What if’s like this have clouded my head. I need to vent, and I need to write. These two things to me are two entirely different things that have become the same. It is crazy how I started writing as a way to write down my thoughts, it turned into a blog that I wanted to share my world, and now it has become a place where I’m praying that I can make myself consistent enough some day to be able to process what is going on with me.

Yet behind all of this there is a darker side to my thought process, and my need to vent shows that darker side. What I mean by darker side is that I cannot stand society at this moment in time. From what I have found I could not stand society in the past either, for the last thirty years of my life I have been rather frustrated with society as a whole. Why though? Well because my actions, my communication techniques, and my way of processing is not allowed in their world. This angers me to no end. I do not say this without a lack of trying please understand that I have spent years attempting to understand why I am different, but at the core of the problem is not my Autism, it is the people I meet and their fear of my Autism. That becomes the largest problem for me to overcome, and I have run out of compassion.

My therapists office decided to shut down without warning back in March. This center that was suppose to pretend it cared about Autistic people decided to shut down, without any warning. What really threw me for a loop was the ability for me to project my own emotional distress into an image of what others must be going through and that image was not flattering. Children being thrown into chaos, and this center called no one for a month. I am not making that up it literally was explained to me that no calls were made, with no reasoning as to why.

My compassion has run out, and I do not know what to do. I cannot understand why I would want to social anymore outside of my own personal needs to empathize with others in a form of connection. I feel really selfish right now because even the entertainment that is suppose to take you away from your own personal issues, has become a whine and bitch fest for this COVID-19 situation.

I lived that world long before anyone decided to come along and eat a infected carcass to spread a virus around the world. I lived in that world because I wasn’t fit for society because I lived on the fringes.

I wanted to write about the trauma of the mind. How traumatic events can scar a mind and that maybe it can be healed with the proper amount of love and care from the outside in a way that connects with the internal thought processes. Instead I vented about how I’m running out of compassion.

That is what my life has become recently. Thank you for reading this, thank you for stopping by.

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