Well it's not opinions as such, it was how I was treated and how personal it was.
If your favourite band suddenly treated you poorly by, say, not letting you see the concert because they think you're stupid or ugly or something, you're automatically going to feel hurt, maybe angry, and you might think differently about the band after that.
At high school I was often deliberately ignored. There were only about 11 girls in my class and they all hung out together in a large group every recess. I was a girl in their class just as much as they were but I was treated differently for being...me. I wasn't good enough. I was an embarrassment. My feelings didn't matter. My feelings didn't exist to them. But I still had to consider their feelings all the time otherwise I'd get a lecture. I just hate double standards and when other Aspies give the unbearable answer "well they're NTs, they can do it", which also seems to mean "NTs are better than us, we're just scum and that's why they treat us that way. They're allowed to lack empathy for us, because we're autistic, a lesser group, subhuman, etc". And that stings and people wonder why I don't want to be on the spectrum. It's the double standards I hate.
Luckily this doesn't happen so much in adulthood, for me anyway. I'm quite an insider, meaning I do feel I belong. In fact one person is being bullied at work, but it isn't me. I'm accepted socially. It's this lovely black man who is being bullied, for being black. That makes me feel so sad. He confides in me a lot about it because he knows I listen and I understand and although I'm accepted by them I still don't join in the bullying. I hate bullying.
I hope the example hasn't offended you or conveyed a sense of belittling your feelings; mine was a general example to illustrate how certain events generally work.
Some of my teen memories:
At 15, to safeguard my mental health, I chose to go to a facility for teenagers, with peers like me. Even there, I couldn't make friends because we had nothing in common. Beyond that, all I managed to extract were toxic and unstable friendships. I couldn't discern if I was being used or if it was right to be altruistic. I didn't understand the extent to which altruism was correct and where opportunism from others began. No one respected me, and I didn't even know what respect was. What is respect? Is it saying no? But how many times should I say no? If I say no, am I selfish? But if I say yes, do I lack character?
Meanwhile, my grandmother had enrolled me in a private school. Looking back, it still gives me chills. One of these girls left me deeply scarred. This girl was envious of me; I didn't know. I've never considered myself beautiful or ugly. When I look in the mirror, I see a human with physical and genetic traits not of my merit but inherited. I don't see competition or envy; I see a face—we all have one. I can't fathom how, just because of a couple of differently placed features, people resort to mean and hypocritical actions driven by envy. In a bar, she destroyed me in front of others, revealing all the confidences and difficulties about my family, everything laid bare to strangers and acquaintances. She concluded that someone like her and someone like me could never be friends, that she had used me, and everyone at school found me strange and thought I was crazy. She shattered me into a thousand pieces, and she laughed; she never regretted it.
This girl changed schools, but things didn't improve. I thought people were my friends, but in reality, I was just a nuisance. They treated me with sarcasm, which I mistook for sincerity at the time, and stayed with me only to avoid being alone. School bored me and didn't provide gratification. I often skipped classes, but no one cared; I was still doing well.
At 16, my father died of brain cancer. As mentioned, I was attending a private school, and my grandmother was providing financial support to this school. Since I had no friends, the principal obligated all my classmates (without my knowledge) to attend my father's funeral. Later, a girl pointed it out to me, laughing. I was devastated; she laughed.
Once I found out, I started suffering from anxiety and panic attacks. My mask was falling apart. Who was I? Why didn't anyone appreciate me? Where was I going wrong? How was I going wrong? The anxiety was so intense that it petrified me during the journey from home to school. Sometimes, I would get to within 20 meters of the school and have panic attacks, believing I could die at any moment.
On exam day, despite being the best in my class, I went silent; I couldn't speak. They failed me without many explanations, and I left school.
I felt that my mask was shattered, and so was my future. My mother never cared about me, and once, on the phone, she explicitly said she would have preferred to abort rather than have a weird child like me. She never accepted me as her daughter because in her culture, I never amounted to anything; she always compared me to my cousin and always preferred her.
Is it disgusting? Yes. But it's not my present; it's my past, and there's so much more disgust, it's true. But I have no intention of paying with my mental health and well-being. I choose how to live my present and future, not my past, my family, or my bullies. Life is mine! For too long, I've been defenseless because I didn't have the tools to defend myself, and no one ever defended me. Now I'm here, and I've chosen not to suffer anymore.
Even if you cry, get angry, or regret the past, it doesn't change; it remains the same and unchanged. But you can choose to live your present and future well. For years, I was at the mercy of others and events, but now it's a conscious choice of mine not to be anyone's pawn, not even my traumas'.
Looking back, I ask myself: how can I ensure it doesn't happen again? How can I avoid it? But I don't dwell on it; I find it a waste of my precious time that no one will ever give back to me. It's true, I have Asperger's, ADHD, PTSD.
We're playing in hard mode! But we're playing; it's our life, and no one can take away our right to live it and waste it.
