Looking up the definition of coming out of the closet, it says that it’s about coming out as gay, admitting that you’re interested in the opposite gender. But really, couldn’t I just as well use it for coming out about my horseaddiction (not true!), or being secretly really into gingers? I mean there’s like closet-nerd, closet-politicians, closet-anything! So, hey, it’s not the gay closet I’m coming out of. (You should’ve listened to the digression that went on in my head right now, wow, can’t keep my thoughts straight.) This is something else, that I’m keeping secret.
There are big things in my life, that practically takes up almost my entire life that I don’t like to talk to people about, like depression, and anxiety and that kinda stuff. It’s always there in my life, it’s not my life, but it’s always there. This isn’t something I’m keeping secret anymore though. I never speak about it really, but I won’t really hush it up either. But this thing that I’m keeping secret only my family knows and one of my friends. And even on anonymous forums I won’t really disclose it, or write about it, though I think a lot about it.
I guess some people will get offended because I think this is something I have to keep a secret, as if it is something terrible, or something to be ashamed of. It’s not something to be ashamed of, and in and of itself it’s not something terrible, not at all. Still, I’ve made an effort for it not to come out, told my parents and my one friend not to tell anyone. I will never speak up when someone I know is talking about this, even though I know a lot more about it than they obviously do. I’ve asked myself if this is the right decision, hiding something, that in reality is a part of what defines me.
When I first knew, I detested knowing. I hated that this was me. I wasn’t socially retarded, I wasn’t stupid in any way! I wasn’t some kinda freak that couldn’t understand social cues or read body language. I was just me, and not socially retarded, not socially retarded. It went on and on in my head that this wasn’t me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with those who are socially retarded, we are all worth the same, and we were all given a life. My problem was that what I associated with this wasn’t me at all. What I thought this said about me, didn’t fit at all. But I had it all wrong. What I thought I knew about this was in fact not even right. And that’s part of the reason I’m keeping it a secret. Because why should others know more about this than what I did?
Even if people knew the right things, this is something that’s not that normal, and I know that people would look at me differently if they knew. Maybe in a better light, maybe in a worse. But I want people to know me through the things I do when I’m with then. I don’t want them to expect or make up their minds about me from something they don’t know anything about, which is the case of most people. At the same time, I’ve been wondering if my life had been easier if my friends could know. If I could tell them a little about how this affects me, and how things would be easier for me. I don’t know. What do you think?
Truth is, I hated it, and wanted it to go away for so long. I do think it’s terrible … in my life. It’s terrible because I’m different, and I’m the one there’s something wrong with (not because it’s true, but because normalcy is the same as majority). But maybe also it’s terrible because I’m still pretending this isn’t me. I’m pretending I don’t perceive the world differently. Because when I’m not telling, or being honest about it, isn’t that the same as pretending it isn’t so? Maybe that is why it’s terrible in my life. Not because of it.
I’m not gonna say that this is something I have, because then it sounds like a disease, or some injury, the way you have a cold, or the way you have cancer, implying it’s something temporary or something I don’t want. Even if I don’t sometimes (plenty of times, since I haven’t really come to terms with it yet), I can’t not want it. It can’t go away. This is something I am living with. I think coming out of the closet means I’m getting there, I’m reconciling with myself and being this way. Coming out to maybe one stranger on the web is not much, but it’s something.
Perceiving the world differently, understanding it differently. It doesn’t make sense at times, because I wasn’t brought up based on living my life on these terms. I was brought up to be normal, and I’m not. Whether I like it or not.
I am an Aspergirl.
But still, most of all, I am me.