About a relationship where my need for silence was a problem, about alcohol as a way to survive, and about how long I confused fit with love.
Głośny był ten świat.
Ciszy szukałam w sobie.
Miłość to bezpieczeństwo.
We were from two different worlds
Today, when I look back, I can clearly see that we were from two different worlds.
He loved people.
He loved meetings, parties, going out, events, places full of conversation and energy. He liked to be the centre of attention. He liked when there was a lot going on around. The more people, the better.
I was completely different.
Even before I found out I was on the autism spectrum, I knew one thing: the crowd was tiring me.
The noise tires me.
The constant presence of people tires me.
After a few hours of such meetings, I felt as if someone had pulled all the energy out of me. I needed silence, peace and solitude to get back to balance.
But for a long time, I thought that I was the problem.
"Everyone is going, only you don't want to"
When I said that I didn't have the strength, that I didn't want to go or that I needed rest, I was very rarely understood.
Most often I heard that I was exaggerating.
That I close in on myself.
That I am antisocial.
That I was making a problem out of something normal.
And sometimes it ended in a fight.
Because for him, the refusal was not information about my limits.
It was a rejection.
It was a lack of support.
It was something he took personally.
So I went.
Not because I wanted to.
I went because I was tired of explaining myself.
Enough of the guilt.
Enough of more arguments.
Over time, it was less and less about going out together.
It was more and more about avoiding conflicts.
Alcohol as a way to survive
Today I can say it directly.
To survive some of these parties, I drank.
Not because I loved alcohol.
Not because I had a great time.
Not because I wanted to get drunk.
I drank because alcohol calmed the tension.
It made the noise a little more bearable.
That people seemed less overwhelming.
That it was easier to pretend that everything was fine.
Looking back on it today, I can clearly see that I wasn't trying to have fun.
I tried to survive.
This is a huge difference.
The loneliest in the crowd
The paradox was that the more people were around me, the more alone I felt.
I was standing in the middle of conversations, laughter and music, and at the same time I had the feeling that I was completely different.
There was no room for my fatigue.
There was no room for my limits.
There was no room for my needs.
There was only an expectation that I would function like everyone else.
And for many years I really tried.
I tried to be more sociable.
More spontaneous.
Less sensitive.
More "normal".
But each such attempt ended in more and more fatigue.
Punishment for not coping
However, something else hurts me the most.
He didn't leave me alone because he didn't notice that I wasn't coping.
He was angry.
Angry that I got drunk.
The paradox was that he never wondered why this happened.
He didn't see years of forcing himself into situations that were overwhelming for me.
He did not see the tension that was building up before each subsequent event.
He didn't see how much I was trying to adapt to a world where I felt alien.
He only saw the effect.
And when he didn't like the effect, he left me alone.
I remember returning home, which I don't really remember.
I remember individual images.
Cold.
An empty street.
Bus stop.
An attempt to remember the way.
And it's a strange feeling that the person I came with doesn't want to have anything to do with me just when I need support the most.
Today I understand it differently
I'm not proud of the fact that I drank.
But I can no longer blame myself alone.
Today I know that a person who loves can be evil.
She may be disappointed.
He may be worried.
But she should not leave another person alone only to punish him for something she considers a mistake.
For a very long time, I thought that I deserved such treatment.
That if I had been more resilient, more sociable, more normal, none of this would have happened.
Today I know that it was not true.
The need for silence is not a disadvantage.
The need for rest is not selfishness.
Aversion to parties is not a lack of love.
And the person who really loves us will not expect us to suffer just to make others have fun.
Because closeness is not about one person constantly adapting.
Closeness is about both people feeling safe.
And for a very long time, I confused fit with love.
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