Too Good To Be True

Yesterday, I had a really bad day. Starting with my body deciding that eating anything at all should be followed by agonising pain. Followed by realising it was Disability Day of Mourning, where those disabled people murdered by their family and carers are honoured and remembered. Add to that a raging storm outside, and my mind became quite stormy too. 

Thoughts of paranoia and worthlessness filled my head. And so I did what I’ve being doing more often: I vomited these thoughts out to the world of Twitter. And folks were more than supportive. I am so very grateful for their kind words. But at that stage I was no longer able to function, so hightailed it to bed. 

Where I tossed and turned and churned on that stormy night. Until I had an epiphany. I knew why this was happenening, and why now.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been chatting to a whole variety of people, using the Direct Message (DM) function of Twitter. We’ve been chatting about a whole range of things, from the serious to the more frivolous. And I have gained so much from these chats. I have become very fond of these people, so much so that I now call them my friends. 

And so, my brain being the way it is, and having had the experiences it has had, had evidently decided to sabotage my new-found happiness. It whispered the thought ‘this is all too good to be true. Therefore it must not be true.’  It put forward conspiracies of these friends laughing at me behind my back, or even worse, bitching. Memories of my past came flooding back, of ‘friends’ who turned out to be anything but. And the feelings of not being worthy of ever having actual friends, resurfaced. 

And then, the storm cleared. I realised that these new friends are not like the ones of my past. Many are not neurotypical, and so don’t tend to play games and have hidden agendas. They have similar pasts to mine, have been bullied and abused like I was. There is no reason why I should not trust them. And the ones who ARE neurotypical…they are not like the neurotypical bullies of my youth. The fact that they knowingly read the words of, and follow, and interact with, an autistic person, shows that they at least have an open mind. 

And now that I’ve realised these things, the paranoia has abated. Because the simple fact is, some things can be very very good AND true! And I am worthy of having these people in my life, of having ACTUAL friends!

(I have to add that I do have an actual friend in real life, one that I don’t see too often but who has always stood by me and never hurt me in any way. And if she’s reading this, I want her to know that I love her dearly!)
[image of a night sky, filled with stars, with a shooting star streaking across the centre. The sky is graduated, from very dark at the top, gradually getting lighter. The very bottom of the image shows a mountainous skyline, with the land a very dark blue or black colour. There is a hint of a sunset at the border between land and sky, shown by a line of pale pink.]


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