I have quite a few posts that need some editing, and some of them might make it to “press.” Only half of what I write (or less) makes my cut to be posted, and some of them take months to finish.

However, I don’t know how many more I will write. Perhaps, this blog has run its course. Has it been helpful for me? I don’t know. It’s given me something to do, and I appreciate the supportive comments and views. But, there are still so manychallenges I face in my life, and I don’t know if this blog will be part of the path forward. It could become my job, but I’d have to conclude there is any reason why my writing contributes beyond the highly-saturated market of autistic bloggers and content creators. In other words, I’m not really needed here either.

This lengthy time of reflection may be evolving into starting down a new path, if not far, then just a little. I have a chance to try a new job for a couple of months and then, presumably, accept it. There are some logistical concerns, but I am working on figuring those out before I go rushing into something that is going to have little chance of succeeding. The employer understands this, though they won’t close the position until it is filled.

They seem to really want me, but, that doesn’t mean much on a personal level. I keep having to tell myself that these people cannot become your friends! And, if they ever call me a friend, I should run, as it’s most likely a trap, recalling how many times people have said that to me in the past, only to find out it was a way to manipulate me and win my favor. So, I hesitate to ever use that word again.

Before I end or slow down my posts, there are a few more ideas I want to share. Hopefully, I will get these done this week, and then I can take a break from blogging for a while. Then again, I may find nothing else useful to do, and blogging lets me pretend I’m useful.

If any readers have a question for me, feel free to ask it in the comments, and I’ll try to answer it. However, there are so many blogs, podcasts, and YouTube channels on autism now, and I can’t imagine there is anything special about mine. Many stories by autistic people are eerily similar, and there is comfort in knowing how many are like you – like us. At times, it can be depressing because people tend to write about the problems they are experiencing. But, there is much wisdom, and it’s growing each day.

So, I don’t know what I’ll be doing in the coming months or years, even days. That is exciting, in some ways, though I know the same difficulties that I’ve had with people will still exist, no matter where I am. It’s not that they are going to make numerous mistakes or take advantage of me, as much as I would rather not deal with that anymore. There is so much trauma in my past from what people have done, and I don’t know if I can be around toxic people for long.

Everyone seems a bit toxic now; I continue to blame social media for this, in part. The global pandemic didn’t help, nor did losing my family, job, and support group at almost the same time. I’m trying to accept I’ll never fully sort out why and what happened, and it probably wouldn’t even be beneficial now, as I’ve learned how useless it is to expect honest dialogue with some people. I’m working on trusting people again, and that is a long process, one person at a time, in many ways.

I’m fortunate to have a wife who keeps me from being homeless, even though all the autism “stuff” tends to overwhelm her, and I have to accept she will never understand me at all. My children, siblings, and mother offer support in various ways.

My father used to help me out a lot, but that relationship seems to have ended, and I struggle sorting that all out, given how much time I’d invested in it. I had other “friends” and “colleagues” who, I thought, were being supportive of me. But, like my father, they didn’t hesitate to “discard” me when I was no longer viewed as an “asset.” People had warned me for years, but I didn’t listen. All I knew was, they seemed to like me and offer support, even as they attacked my other “supporters.” And, I didn’t have enough neurotypical awareness to figure that out, so they get to go on without me, as is probably for the best, at least for them.

I will always struggle to accept that my father and various friends were cruel and fake, but it’s hard to argue with the facts. “Friends don’t do that,” as my one therapist told me. I spent too much time and energy on people who never really cared about me, apparently. Ironically, it’s the “good” ones, who tend not to be around me, other than to warn me about the “bad” ones. I’m still sorting out what that means. Why do I annoy the good ones so much, but they bother to tell me who is bad for me? That’s confusing.

Since I don’t seem to know how to avoid “bad” people, I’ll just avoid everyone, in case they are the bad ones. Maybe, I’m the bad one! Seriously, I have to wonder that. It feels like people are telling me that, even when they don’t say it directly.

Somehow, at my last job, most people I worked with most closely, including my boss, were “run down” by someone else, but they also “ran down” others. That might be the perfect definition of a toxic environment, and I had that situation both with my job and family. Many of them disparaged my wife. Some criticized me. Some bullied me, and I was their target if I didn’t conform to their agenda or wishes. They were trying to control me or win my favor. Possibly, they were jealous or envious, and, in the best-case scenario, they may have been trying to protect me.

Friends . . . well . . . I don’t know if I have any of those, but that’s OK. I have some decent acquaintances, and they are likely better than friends. That may sound or even be pessimistic, but I’d argue the opposite. At a minimum, it is realistic, at least for me right now.

There are so many projects I’m in the middle of, but I don’t have to finish them all (or any of them). Will I spend the last years of my life doing nothing? I doubt it, but that may be all I can do. What I don’t want is to be in environments that are too overwhelming for me. A potential job is already feeling that way, and it’s an assessment of my atypical brain more than a criticism of anyone there. Am I being too generous towards them, or too critical towards myself? Does is matter?

Risk is inevitable when you do anything. How can I manage these risks in a manner that lets me have a more fulfilling life? What exactly would that life look like? Is it the life I desire, or is it what others want for me? Are people being supportive or controlling? There are many ongoing questions that most people can figure out easily, if not early on in life, then certainly by the time they are my age.

Except for people I pay, nobody is helping me make sense of the world anymore. Why? This is one of the most sinister aspects of people in my life. They tend to counteract the good others do, acting as if everyone else is bad for me. It’s so stupid how I encourage people to get along, but then they all abandon me anyway. Or, if that doesn’t happen, my wife comes swooping down from on high to set a boundary that confuses me to the point I just go hide again.

Now, as my life is probably not far from ending, maybe ten years, twenty at the most, I have no clue what I’m supposed to do apart from what my wife is insisting. Fortunately, she is nice, and we enjoy being together, as long as I pretend like everything in my life is perfect, and I don’t exhibit too many autistic traits.

That’s another reason, the main one, why I shouldn’t keep blogging. My fixation on autism has been more than she wants to deal with. I understand, at least in theory. My perspective is that she has never gotten or wanted to understand what I’m telling her, and it appears uncaring. I don’t know, but I do know we enjoy doing things together, and I already feel guilty for how much she does for me. I wish my attempts to feel less guilty – this blog, having friends, getting a job – didn’t result in me upsetting her. There is too much confusion in having relationships with other people for me to figure out my wife as well. So, I will choose her, and maybe she is all I need anyway, despite being told otherwise by therapists. I do have my children, siblings, and possibly now my mother, to some degree. I can be thankful for all of them.

My goals are what they have been for most of my life: stay alive and try to find people who won’t let me starve to death alone, even though I probably deserve that. By those standards, I’ve done quite well, and maybe I can continue to be that successful. Possibly, my epithet should be something ironic like, “He never gave up on staying alive.” That’s funny. Life is stupid like that, and I’ll do my best to find a way forward, as best I can, no matter how much or little others are willing to help me, as long as I don’t break any boundaries in the process.

In other words, it’s time to accept I’m alone in this world and get past the illusion it was ever anything different from that. Maybe I’ll get out of bed today and call that a victory.

Following my wife’s boundaries by ending this blog and almost all relationships in the past might be a good first step. Nothing makes sense, but I’m autistic, so I shouldn’t expect it to be otherwise.