The Autistic Experience

With teeth razor sharp and grip strangling, like a serpent you held me. You said you wouldn’t let me go. I thought what you had to offer was love. Alas, you controlled me. You did not love me, but you needed me to be yours. I was your possession. Something you smothered the life out of and showed your fangs when they tried to escape. You would slither your toxin on me and paralyze me. With my life in your hands, I handed you, my trust. I trusted you will take care of me, but you imprisoned me. You held my soul with your grip, my body in your venomous fangs and I was lifeless, completely in your control.

Often in life we find ourselves with narcissists and they are not just self-glorifying people. The first step to identifying a narcissist is to see their attachment styles. They will treat us like we are the only person in this world that matters, hold, and tell us they will take care of us, but the minute we pull back or show resistance they will make us feel guilty. Guilty for being ourselves, responsible for the problems. They will grab us and with all the charm they have pull us deeper. We will be theirs and not recognize their “love” is their need to be worshipped. Isolate us from our connections so we cannot leave them. Not let us be friends with people and complain about us to everyone. Once cut off, we can never leave them. They will trigger responses, and if we lose ourselves in public from all the abuse, the world will know we are the problem, while they are in a toxic relationship. And if despite everything we dare to leave them, they will repeat the cycle and love bomb. We will fall right under their spell. They will show extremes of faked empathy in that moment and when we believe them, they will remind us how we tried to leave them. They will punish, insult, and belittle us, subtly and overtly. To establish control, feel powerful and know they are the better half.

In that serpent’s grasp we are birds caged from flying. As we yearn for the beautiful skies with life withering and darkness all around, they will loosen the grip, so we are not granted the sweet mercy of death. Their love is their mercy, for they allowed us to breathe. We are theirs and while they may bite more birds because it is their nature, we dare not dream of flying. It is not our right to be free and not our nature to fly. We are the victim, and they are our masters.