dysfunction high

some venting...feel free to ignore (sorry)

I hate myself.

I hate that I can’t get stuff done.

I hate that mom doesn’t understand me and punishes me, constantly, thinks that I’m selfish, ignorant and lazy.

I’m not.

I know I’m not.

But that’s all I ever am able to show. I’m not productive like normal people, I can’t just decide to do something and then actually do it without procrastinating on it or fighting my own stupid body tO JUST MOVE AND. DO. IT.

I can’t do things normally, I get so overwhelmed with school work that requires reading through and filtering information from large texts.

I can’t learn for tests because I always push this task in front of myself for ages, continuously procrastinating it and telling myself to just do it later because I try to find excuses as to why I can’t do it rn when all it truly is is just me not being able to get my stupid ass to work on it.

I procrastinate on even my own freetime.

I sit around and stare at something, be it my phone, the floor, my arms/hands, a drawing somewhere in my room - doesn’t matter - I stare at it for hours as the tasks and chores I am expected to have done throughout the day pile up into this big stressful clusterfuck of neglect while my body feels like it’s decaying underneath all the dirt and sweat I haven’t managed to wash off just yet because I just procrastinate showering for nearly more than a week, time passes and passes and I feel it creeping and trickling through my body and fingers and just feel so utterly frustrated with myself.

I look at people who live their lives normally, in peace with themselves and in sync with their tasks as they productively and effectively do things and chores and schoolwork and I look at them and think:

“Why can’t I be like that?”

“Why can’t I be normal?”

“Am I broken?”

“I’m such a lazy piece of shit.”

“Everyone else can manage just fine, then why can’t I do that??”

The thoughts get agitating sometimes.

Mom says it’s all about motivation and discipline.

It’s not.

Sometimes, I want to clean my room or learn for a test because I know it’s important, but I can’t.

My body becomes immobilized, paralyzed and only doing the simplest of tasks like refreshing my dashboard for the 456th time, and I feel guilty.

I always feel so guilty.

I hate feeling guilty.

I break down crying more lately.

I just want to be normal.

Want to be productive like everybody else.

Mom doesn’t understand.

She takes away my phone, takes away my joy, my everything, my one social constant that anchors me as a valid and accepted individual in the mass of anonymity, and she says that she hates to have to take these measures, says that she doesn’t want this either but that she has no other choice.

I know that she’s getting desperate.

I feel very guilty about not being a better daughter.

About not improving, only ever startig to do shit or seek help when everything around me crumbles to pieces after too long a time of neglect.

She knows.

She knows that I don’t improve, she said it herself, this cycle will never end, she said that she simply has to be this “mean” because she doesn’t know what to do anymore to keep me from stopping mid-way and destryoing myself and my future with it.

I understand her.

I know all of that.

I have known for years now.

But she doesn’t know how frustrating these issues are, she doesn’t feel the sick twist of guts I do when I think about my future and how much better it would be looking if only I wasn’t so utterly fucking broken.

I don’t want to be yelled at.

I don’t want to have my stuff taken away.

I don’t want to be like this.

I don’t want to sit around and feel like shit for it.

I don’t want to be broken, scattered, a clusterfuck of procrastinated chores and stress I just stack onto myself instead of solving it like I should.

I’m sick of it.

I’m sick of being broken.

Of constantly feeling like shit.

Of knowing exactly that I ruin my life with this.

And I don’t know what to do.

Or rather, I know what to do, but I can’t execute any of the problem solving fragments that I’d need.

I have been procrastinating calling a psychiatrist for an appointment all week.

I want an appointment.

I need an appointment if I want just anything to somewhat improve for me.

But I don’t do it.

I don’t fucking do it, like always, I sit here, living my day without completing any task on my own accord, feeling nothing but horrible about it.

But mom still calls me selfish.

Calls me lazy.

Calls me ignorant.

I'm​ not.

I’m aware of my problems and scared of them.

I don’t want this.

I slowly start to believe her the more times she says these things

I truly want to be productive, normal, I want to be free of this constant cycle of piling up my problems until everything breaks down again and leaves me agitated, I want to be….not broken anymore.

But she doesn’t understand

She means well though.

But nothing is well.

I hate this.

I hate my life and how out of control it has gotten over time now, especially now that I’ll be considered an “adult, independently acting appropriate to her age” soon.

Things just get worse and worse and I’m scared.

I don’t know what to do anymore, what to say.

I’m so tired of it all.

And I’m scared.

Scared to drop into even worse grounds with this stuff if I don’t seek serious help like I should anytime soon.

I’m scared to procrastinate this one important task that is getting this shit appointment and I hate it. So. Much.

anonymous asked:

tw: csa, abuse, bullying. All my life I've known abuse (csa, emotionally neglectful and abusive family, bullying for years n recently, i got out of a two-year long abusive relationship) and im so tired. I have cptsd and i feel so broken and dysfunctional. yet i'm high-functioning? doing what's expected of me is the only thing i can do actually. when i ask for help, ppl say it's nothing, that i should just 'get over it' and i'm constantly afraid that they're right. thank u for ur time ;;

cptsd, and ptsd, are both …incredibly misunderstood mental illnesses, because it’s impossible to  imagine how much trauma messes with ones head, when the worst most people have gone through is like… a pet dying. and since neurotypicals like to project onto everything, they think if they could get over their pet dying when they were 12, then you can get over csa and child abuse and domestic abuse. but thats not how it works.

so frankly, they have no idea what they’re talking about. trauma is devastating. it rips everything open. after enduring it, nothing seems okay anymore, nothing seems safe. 

did you know, some people with mental illnesses will go undiagnosed and unnoticed for decades, or their entire lives, because they do what people tell them to, and they don’t talk about what’s going on their brains. because that’s always going to fool people. nobody is looking for you, or anyone else, to have mental illnesses, so if you mostly act like you’re okay, and get things done, then to them you might as well be a neurotypical.

you didn’t make up your abuse. you’re not faking it. you’re not overreacting. you shouldn’t have to try this hard to make people believe you, im so sorry.

I wrote a thing.

It’s probably slam poetry or something? All I know is I wanna find a place to read it out loud soon.

“High-Functioning”

People like to look at me, and listen to me.

Some people like to judge me.


People say I’m too loud, too controversial, abnormal, dysfunctional.

I’m autistic, and that’s the reason why.

But the moment I say those two words to someone who thinks they know everything,

Suddenly I’m not too loud, too controversial, abnormal, dysfunctional.


I’m ‘high-functioning’.

I’m ‘high-functioning’ because on a good day I can fake being like them.

On a bad day, I’m too loud, too controversial, abnormal, dysfunctional–

But on a good day?

For them, it’s not enough to matter.


Sure, I can speak my mind and annoy people with my opinion,

But the moment I try to say I don’t have a filter because I’m autistic, they say:

‘You’re just high-functioning. You don’t know what it’s like.’


Sure, I can pick my skin and my nose and flap my hands at home,

But the moment I’m not doing that in front of you?

‘You’re just high-functioning. You don’t know what it’s like.’


I can leave scars on my legs, bumps on my head, cracks in my heart;

But the moment I’ve covered it all up so I can speak to you as

A student, a businessperson, a woman, a human:

‘You’re just high-functioning. You don’t know what it’s like.’


I’d like to counter that assumption by making the statement

That you don’t know what it’s like.

You fail to realise that in a society that demands perfection

Those who can only be almost perfect–

–at school, at work, at neurotypicality–

End up falling through the cracks.


You don’t know what it’s like to get a job

And need to stim

And be denied that right

And get fired the day you tell your boss you’re autistic because

‘You’re just not working out for us. We gave you chances.’


Chances to be neurotypical, to fake it, to be ‘high-functioning’ enough

To give up my basic needs in order to FUNCTION the way you say I do

And then fall on my face

Because ‘high-functioning’ is only almost-perfect

When someone can’t meet you halfway.


You don’t know what it’s like to try to fight for our rights

Only to be put down for my almost-perfect mask of neurotypicality

Because an Autism Mom™ has more of a right to advocate for autistics

Than the actual ‘high-functioning’ AUTISTIC

Standing right in front of her.


You don’t know what it’s like to spend 3 years in college trying to be almost-perfect

Slowly walking the fine line between success and autistic burnout

Because on a campus that demands perfection

I can only be almost-perfect

But even THAT is mentally exhausting

When no-one can meet you halfway.


You don’t know what it’s like to be your own kid

Who could probably be as ‘high-functioning’ as I am

If you didn’t limit his PECS or AAC vocabulary

(If you even gave him a way to communicate instead of forcing him into speech therapy)

But even if he was, he’d be hated because society hates your kid as much as it hates me.

Autism’s a disorder, remember?

You said that yourself when you walked to cure it.


I’d like to end this conversation

By letting you know that this fighting is stupid.

Your kid has problems. I have problems. WE ALL HAVE PROBLEMS.

Instead of telling me I’m too ‘high-functioning’  to understand,

Why can’t you back off and let all of us try to sort it out

So that every single autistic can somehow, someday tell you

‘You’re too high-functioning. Let me try to help you understand.’

wth i was walking through the living room and my mom was watching the news - apparently they may be passing laws in texas thatll make women have to get the “fathers” consent to get an abortion??? and doctors can deny viagra (medication for erectile dysfunction/high blood pressure) if they dont believe its “okay” religiously even if the patient isnt of the same religion??? and making masturbation illegal because apparently sperm is a baby even without the egg - ya know that other really important part of making a baby - because its apparently equals murdering a newborn??? and its possibly a woman trying to get this legalized???

*groans* im surrounded by stupid old white privileged republican farts that literally have no idea what theyre doing oh my god

this is what i gathered listening in so dont take my word for it but it still sounds pretty fucking awful