When Night Falls

Content: This post refers to intrusive, traumatic memories.

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Night falls, fear rises.

When I fade away into sleep, my nightmares emerge.

My demons are real, alive and kicking. 

I’m inviting you for tea, because at noon I try to forget.

But when night falls, and fear rises

everything that’s me remembers what you did.

The Lonely Poly

Content: This post includes mentioning of an abusive partner, but no explicit details.

 

I don’t know how old I was the first time I realized that I could feel romantic kinds of love for more than one person at the same time. At the time when it happened I didn’t know that there were other people who felt the same and to me it wasn’t an identity, I just considered it one of my flaws.

A couple of years later I was familiar with the term polyamorous and I had found a couple of people to talk to about it. I had come to the point of articulating the question “How does it come that it’s considered perfectly fine to love more than one child, more than one friend, more than one sibling or parent, but never ever to love more than one person as a romantic partner?” To me, this was an honest question but most people outside my poly community seemed to interpret it as a rhetorical question intended to provoke. I didn’t want to provoke, I wanted answers. I wanted to know what I could do to either stop feeling the way I did, because it was obviously so wrong to most people, or to figure out a way to live with my feelings without hating myself for it.

Because, even though I ended up as a speaker in workshops with such great answers about all relationships being hard and demanding work and what not, I never actually figured out how to deal with myself. I had a girlfriend and after a while a boyfriend too, and it didn’t work. I ended up with the same problems as in most relationships of any kind, but so much worse. Everything that was difficult for me in relationships was intensified to a point that teared me apart. Having more than one partner and taking a totally different direction than the conventional path with one partner at a time meant that I was exposed to being misunderstood by more than one person at the same time. Everything that was weird about me, all the stuff I didn’t have words for, became even more weird and impossible to relate to. Living a poly life with all the unpredictability that came with it made me more lonely than ever.

Today, I think that there were many reasons for this. One was that the girlfriend mentioned above was mean and actually abusive, another was that I didn’t understand myself as an autistic person with sensory and emotional overloads. I need to have plenty of time on my own to process and when I didn’t get this I had so many meltdowns that I never understood. I need to know that my processing time is something that will be respected, something that I didn’t experience in most relationships. At one point I was sure that the poly thing wasn’t for me, that it was just a phase and that I needed to put it behind me, so I did. Or, I tried to.

I’m still able to feel romantic kinds of love for more than one person, but today I live in a monogamous relationship. My partner accepts that I’m polyamorous but I hardly have energy to maintain my relationship with him, and there’s absolutely no practical possibility for anybody else. But, I loved someone else too a couple of years ago and until recently I’ve felt so guilty about it. I had forgot that it’s possible to love two people at the same time and felt like I let my partner down by loving someone else too. And then it hit me a couple of days ago that just because I couldn’t handle more than one partner at a time doesn’t mean I don’t have the ability to love two people.

Protected posts

I’ve gone through this blog and unpublished some posts and made some other posts password protected, since I got some unwanted attention. The posts that are password protected include explicit sexual descriptions and that seemed to give some people ideas about me not having any boundaries. I think the intersection of sexuality and autism is very interesting but explicitly sexual material will be password protected from now on.

If you feel like reading and want the password, send me an email to theuninspirational-at-gmail-dot-com and tell me who you are and that you would like the password. I will only give it to people I have interacted with and feel safe with.

The Emotional Harm of Unhelpful Help

Content: This post contains explicit descriptions of situations of harm done by people who are supposed to help. It refers to feelings of fear, vulnerability and unsafety.

 

I’ve been approved for a service where I will get help with some household stuff. Mostly it’s to get breakfast done for me, and a certain amount of tidying, cooking and cleaning, but also to get help with schampooing my hair. At first it was a nice surprise that I was approved for this, but now I’m feeling really bad about it. I can’t imagine how I will ever make this work without me being harmed in one way or the other.

Thinking about how a stranger (or strangers) will enter my home makes me feel like the world is imploding. It’s a specific sense of disaster that I really can’t describe more precise than that it creates an intense fear that feels like reliving all those times people who I’ve been depending on have harmed and hurt me. I relive all those times in one second, with all fear, pain and vulnerability enhanced to a level that I don’t have any mathematical expression for. Because it isn’t only the sum of all fear and pain, it transforms into something else. To an unwanted insight of how unsafe I am in this world. Letting people into my home to help me means giving people the power to harm me again. So far my experience says that this is what will happen. Because when people don’t understand what I need, they harm me in at least two different ways.

The first kind of harm is the practical harm. If I need help with getting something to eat and you give me something that I’m allergic to, you harm me. This is usually fairly easy for people to grasp, but it happens a lot anyway. However, when I need help from a doctor with a medical problem, and the doctor fails to recognize and understand how I respond to meds due to having ME and therefore prescribes meds that lead to permanent harm, it’s usually not recognized. When I need help with special transportation (transportation that allows me to lie down) and the driver keeps talking and therefore creates unnecessary brainfog, it’s usually not admitted to be harm. When the person who is supposed to help me out by cleaning my home creates extra work with coordination and therefore steals precious energy and makes me exert myself more than what I should and I therefore end up with a worsening of symptoms, it’s usually not considered harm.

The other kind of harm is the emotional harm that the practical harm leads to.¬†When I need help with food, cleaning and other household stuff but the person helping me is blaming me for having such unrelatable needs, such as only certain hours of the day, limited talking, only certain food, keep the curtains covering the window and what not, I feel unrelatable. Like my needs aren’t real needs, like I chose them. Like I could get rid of my needs if I only made an effort. It hurts because I’ve frequently been blamed for being such a demanding and difficult patient and person. When I’ve been practically harmed I’ve most of the times not received any apology, but instead been further blamed for the pain someone else has caused me. That makes me scared, because to me that’s like saying that harming me is justified by me being so difficult. It means it will happen again.

The harm that I’ve been subjected to so many times by people who were supposed to help me has made me a very suspicious and scared person. Letting a new person into my home to help me feels like inviting an abuser into my home to attack me.