Hi guys, I mentioned I would be bringing a number of my posts up from the Yahoo groups to post onto here, and this is one of them. I wrote this in the summer of 2008, months after having discovered my SPD. I posted it to SID-DSI AllAboutKids, and then later to a few other groups.

It is an analogy, a metaphorical story that occurs at a night-time house party. I wrote this while I was recovering from a meltdown, and wanted to share how I saw my situation in the world at that time. Some of this may not make a lot of sense to you, but hopefully some of it will hit home.

This was a while ago, and not necessarily exactly how I see things right now, but I think it's still an interesting read:



Social Interaction Story from the SPD Perspective

"Welcome to the party!" They casually exclaim as I open the door to the house, full of hope. I meander around a bit amongst the crowd at the house party, but there's something wrong here. Everything is off. I feel terrible, instead of happy like I should. The music is deafeningly loud and it doesn't sound right. The lights are turned too bright and they are aimed directly at my eyes. The food feels like slime in my throat and I can't choke it down. No one in this party smells to me like they've showered in a year. Yet everyone seems happy, somehow. They move about freely, talking and communicating with one and other. How can they stand it?

I grab for a glass of wine, but as soon as I do, one suddenly comes into view right next to it and I can't stop my hand quickly enough. I knock it over and it falls to the ground, shattering to pieces. It pierces my ears and I cringe and hope no one heard me. No one seemed to, except one person, the party bouncer. I have tried my hardest to like and tolerate this maddening party, but he has had his eyes on me since the moment I entered the room. I haven't been a welcoming sight to him, and he was waiting for his opportunity to expose me and remove me. This was his opportunity. By accident, I have broken some of the houses' finest crystal glasses.

He moves swiftly. I'm blocked in, or at least I feel like I am. I can not move. He grabs me, his fingers pinching into my skin, stabbing me in places I could neither detect nor feel, but I am now experiencing deep pain there, though his firm grip feels good. He moves me to the exit, making loud comments about what kind of person I am to everyone around me. To him and everyone else now, I am a hassle, a rule breaker, a liability, a lost cause, a klutz, an outsider, and above all, a misfit. I feel that those statements are unwarranted, but I have no ability to defend myself in enough time, and everyone is laughing.

I am thrown from the house. The door is shut behind me. I hear the door lock as I look back at it longingly from my seat on the cold, hard winter pavement. Discarded. I'm alone in the cold dark night, and in a bad neighborhood. Some people die here, or so I've been told. I keep a lookout, now that I'm locked out. I hear dogs barking and a police siren a mile away. I hear all kinds of creaking and popping sounds in my nearby vicinity. Did I hear footsteps? I can't see anything in the dark, except shadows dancing on the walls. Not good. I needed to get back in.

The doors are locked. I yell, but no one hears. My voice falls silent, no one could have heard it. Panicking, my words hadn't come out right, anyway, and no one would have cared even if they did hear or understand me. I have already been labeled as a weird outcast. They will not open their doors for someone like me.

The house is not a fortress. There are windows. I move up to one and gaze in longingly. Inside, everyone is dancing and talking, still moving about freely, without restraint. They can't see out the window. They don't notice me. Do I want them to notice me, after what just happened?

I think that question is valid, but I remember that I am outside in a bad area. I hear another popping noise behind me. Is someone there, staring at me? I turn around and see nothing, yet in my minds eye, I automatically picture a demonic man standing next to me, dark and scary, half dead. He screams and lashes out at me. I stiffen up. I remember it's not real, but it almost feels real. I can't think straight. The cold is cutting off my breath. I can't remember where I parked. I have to get into the house.

I try tapping on the windows, but they close the blinds. I walk around the house, dejected – no place to go. The dark terrifies me, and it continues to play tricks on my mind. I can't stop the thoughts from resurfacing. I need to be in the house, in the light, in the heat, though it annoys me. I need to be surrounded by people. These thoughts and demons can't get me there. But there is no way in.

`Ah Ha!' I think, proud of my insight. I recalled they had a back entrance for late comers. They were closing it soon. I headed over, looking into each window I passed, thinking to myself, "I can do it. I can be happy with them in that house. I think."

On my way to the door, as I'm trying to avoid my terrorizing thoughts, I suddenly trip on a chain. Incredibly loud barking cuts through the night. Right next to me! They had an attack dog, and I couldn't see it. I jumped away, nearly running into a tree. I avoided the dog, but I was terrified now, and the thoughts began to creep back into my head. I'm being followed. Someone is watching me. I've seen it in the movies, and it's happening to me now.

I run to the door and am thrilled to find it hasn't been closed. A bouncer is standing there, a different one. I am relieved and desperate to get in. Too desperate. Too terrified. I run up to him, afraid of being chased in the dark. It startles him. I forgot it would. I try to settle myself down, but my heart is pounding and racing and it consumes my thoughts. My inner body is shaking and vibrating. I can't settle down.

"Easy, easy" he commands, like I'm a bucking horse he has to contain. I try to tell him what I want to say, to let me in, but I'm too afraid. I don't look or sound right. My shirt buttons have come undone from being manhandled. My pant legs are torn and dirty from tripping. I look like a bum who is dirty and doesn't have money to clean himself. I act like I am on drugs, because I am so afraid. I beg, but there is no way he will let me in. He too shuts me out. He too shuts and locks the door in my face. I had heard about him before, and that he was an accepting man, but he wouldn't accept me.

I am outside still, alone in the dark. Inside, I can hear them laughing. They are eating, they are talking, they are making jokes, and having fun. They are happy. I'm on the other side of the wall. I cannot penetrate. I can not partake. Maybe I wasn't meant to. But that couldn't be right. Had I really done anything wrong? I had done the best I could. I had tried, but this is where I am now.

Inside, I can hear some of them complaining. The food doesn't taste quite as good as they hoped it would. They like more expensive wine. The band isn't exactly the style they had wanted. I had been no more annoyed by these things, had I? Yet they stayed and talked loudly and had fun all night. They weren't excluded.

I stay outside. I look back in the window every now and then, wondering how they do it – how they can stand that environment and that much chaos. `But I won't complain about it' I told myself. After all, complainers annoyed me. `I will keep silent. They have to let me in.'

That is only my delusion, though. They will not let me in. Not through that window. Not me, never. I've taken my chances, and I wasted them all. I am a jerk. I am not a good person. I know why they don't like me. I know how I look to them, but I don't believe it. I thought I had tried. I thought I was a good person. I am not. It was my own lie to keep myself happy.

Now I'm out in the cold. I press my back up against the wall, and crumple to the ground. Miserable. This is the only place I can be accepted. I call some of these people my friends. But I have no friends. I have no home. I have a sidewalk, and a patch of dirt to cry in. Can I stay in this reality?

No, I decide. So I do what people tell me I do best. I drift off into my little world. How big it is now! Usually it's filled with excitement, stories, and adventure, but tonight, it's pure delusion. Delusion that someone out there can see me. Delusion that someone out there cares about what emotional state I am in. Delusion that someone else will see me suffering and try to help.

I picture someone leaving the house, if only for a smoke. I picture them seeing me crying alone. I picture them smiling, recognizing me, and calling me by name. They pick me up. They dust me off. They give me a hug, and tell me I'm not alone – that they are there for me and that they care. They let me into the house. I am accepted and supported. Admired and loved. And for once – I can feel it!

But that is all delusion. That hasn't happened. That will not happen. Not for me. I am alone in the dark and in the cold. I hope to see someone else out here. To see another person who is as discarded and rejected as I am for no apparent reason, but I see no one. I wished there was.

We could get together. We could have a party of our own. It might not be as big and showy as the other one, but we would understand each other, and even though we would still be miserable in our dejection, we could still find a way to try to enjoy the evening. Our party would be small, but it would be ten times more meaningful than the fake one we were rejected from – where everyone was trying to act impressive, to put on a show and win acceptance from people who were probably shallow.

Of course though, even that was delusional. There was no one else here. I know there are others tonight probably feeling the same way, but not here. Not at this party. It's just me.

I think to myself, because I know I'm intelligent and I believe I am capable, I will make a lot of money, and buy a house like that. I would throw parties where everyone was accepted, and no one would get dejected like this. For once, it would be logical. For once, it would make sense. I realize that even this is delusional. It is impossible. I am not able. Some of the people at the party are my employers. I need to impress them or I won't succeed. Not only have I failed to impress them, I have been thrown from their party, from their presence. This will never work. Why do I still try?

I am still alone in the dark, and in the cold. This is not the first time. This has been going on for years. What can I do? What will happen to me?