Why are there different worlds?

 Autism is such an odd term. It comes from the Greek word autos, meaning self, and the suffix ism, meaning state of being or condition. A physiatrist used the word to describe withdrawing into one’s inner world. It doesn’t feel like I necessarily have an inner world. My autism is just my world.

On the inside I felt like I was friends with everyone simply because they would talk and laugh with me. Externally they were laughing at me because I couldn’t understand that they were making fun of me. In elementary school my only friend was this one boy on my bus. I tried licking him the first time we met because my sister told me that dogs lick other dogs that they like. We’ve been inseparable since then. 

I was diagnosed with ADD and put on adderall when I was in second or third grade. It worked well from an external perspective; I was quiet, I was doing my work, I could sit still. Internally I felt like I was watching my life through a window. The days, seasons, and years all just went on. I never felt hungry. I never felt happy. I was just there. Breathing. 

I’ve always been seen as odd. Too blunt. Too weird. Too different. I think logically and don’t like to waste my time on the hypothetical. 

My dad says I’m very apathetic.

My sister called me an “asshole” the other day. But the problem is, I was telling the truth. Our mothers hoarding is annoying and is overwhelming. I don’t understand why she, my mother, treats objects like they have emotions. An object isn’t a person, it’s not alive. It doesn’t feel joy when it’s in use or mourn when it is tossed.

The house is very busy. People running in and out, things everywhere, loud sounds. It looks dysfunctional but it’s not. We’ve all been living like this for so long, everything has a rhythm to it.

I like schedules.

Sensory input has always been an issue for me. I hate being tapped. Any light repetitive motion feels like tiny sharp needles poking me. Startling sounds or the possibility of a startling noise makes me curl into myself. I have a habit of dropping my phone and everytime it slips from my fingers and makes its dive to the ground my hands shoot for my ears and I crouch down in an attempt to shield myself from the sound.

 Growing up my nickname was bunny. Not because I was cute and small and innocent but because I trembled. Not out of fear or stress but because I have a need for constant movement. It’s soothing. Slightly rocking myself, shaking my leg, or sitting with my legs crossed and flapping my legs. Not only do I do this so-called “trembling” but I bounce. A lot. Bored? Just bounce. Content? Bounce. Excited? Perfect time to bounce.

I’m self aware about the things I miss. Years of people watching has taught me everything I need to know about body language, facial expressions, and tone yet when I’m face to face with these things I still struggle. 

Why is my word so different from yours?