A lot of autistic people are labeled as "smart" just because they have a few unique talents.
They're then expected to continue being smart according to whatever is expected of them.
For example, it's possible for someone to appear to be a math savant just because they notice a few additional patterns or memorize a few additional formulas. It's possible for someone to appear to be a computer savant just because they acknowledge that computers do what you tell them literally and do not follow human social customs.
They're then expected to be "smart" on command, always get perfect grades, be able to make a career out of it, and never struggle with anything. They're often also expected to be "smart" when it comes to things that are completely irrelevant to their special skill.
But that's often unreasonable. Expecting someone to be able to get a career in math just because they can solve math problems in their head is like expecting someone to be able to get a career as a basketball player just because they can spin a basketball on their finger.
The worst thing is that there is so much potential for exploring the horror of psych wards from the angle of medical abuse, ableism, forced treatment/drugging, loss of autonomy, power imbalance, demonization, dehumanization, etc, and YET the horror genre keeps defaulting to "insane asylums and psych wards are scary because there are mentally ill people in there"
I think something a lot of other people can relate to is the way that you get so conditioned to discomfort that you stop registering it.
I remember sitting at the table with my family, eating dinner as a child. I’d try to eat, because of course I was hungry. But sometimes the flavor or texture was so repugnant that it moved into a category of Not Food.
“Two more bites before you can leave the table.”
“I can’t,” I’d say, trying to explain the impossibility.
But because I was a child they heard, “I won’t,” and made me sit at the table. I’d sit in dull agonized silence, bored and hungry for hours until bedtime when they’d give up. I’d hate myself for not eating and my parents for forcing me to sit there. The few forcefeeding moments ended in vomit.
They’d say, “If you don’t eat this you can’t eat a snack later,” and I moved past trying to communicate my discomfort into accepting that I’d just be hungry.
That state of affairs didn’t last, because my parents realized nothing could force me to eat so they catered to my palate, worrying they’d starve me. But the message stuck. If you can’t do anything about a situation, just accept the suffering.
A few years later my mother called me off the playground to ask, “Are you limping?”
I shrugged. My feet had hurt for a long time, but that was just the way things were now. My mom pulled my socks and shoes off and gasped. The soles of my feet were covered in huge painful planters warts.
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” She demanded but I could only shrug at her. I’d learned a long time ago that saying things about my discomfort didn’t matter, so now I had no words. Sometimes things hurt and sometimes they don’t. I simply accepted and did my best.
Now as an adult trying to learn to improve my own conditions can be hard. If I make food that I can’t eat I’ll force myself to sit at the counter still, full of guilt and self loathing, trying to will myself to eat it.
At first I needed my betrothed to gently take it away to present me with something I could eat. Now on my own I can usually admit that it’s not happening before too long and get something else, but I still feel guilty.
Laying in bed at night waiting for my betrothed to finish getting ready I let out a huge sigh of relief when they turned the lights off.
“Why didn’t you turn them off if they bothered you?” they asked the first time it happened.
“I didn’t even know it was bothering me until it was gone.”
Assessing my physical state now to see if I can improve it is something I’m still relearning but I’m relieved to finally have the space and support to do it.
sorry to speak an unoriginal thought but francesca fucking slaps. i forget and then it comes on shuffle and i get my tits blown clean off and like. mr hozier you’ve outdone yourself this is one of the greatest songs ever written. wdym you’d choose eternal suffering over not being with her. wdym the true eternal suffering would be being without her. ‘i’d tell them put me back in. i would do it again’ you would?? FUCK this is too much i’m perishing out here
the team is chasing the sickest murderers to ever live meanwhile these two on the phone sexually harassing each other
honestly it's so wild to me that sam and bucky's relationship has gone through the development it has, to the point where it's unironically one of the healthiest relationships in the mcu. from the steering wheel incident in the winter soldier, to their incredible "asshole i'm forced to work together with" dynamic in civil war (best part of the movie ngl), to them truly working past their differences and genuinely growing to care about each other in tfatws.
and now they're at a point where bucky dropped everything to comfort sam when he needed it, and sam trusted him to be completely vulnerable with him. and of course the canon "i love you". it's incredible to see how far they've come and i can't wait to see more of their relationship in the future.
Are fedoras really that bad?
YES YES THEY ARE
🧡🤍💗 Happy International Lesbian Day! 💗🤍🧡
my Disney wrapped would be like:
You've watched Criminal Minds Season 3 Epsiode 5: Seven Second 578554 times this year