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No. 23192
[Edit]
fellow autist here,
What happened to me is that I got diagnosed around 23ish, struggled with it, was a complete dumbass. After going through a group home situation and having a roommate, I built up my confidence. What I noticed from reading your post and from my own experience is that it was about the same.
The repetition thing that people with asperger's do applies to 'anxiety' as well. I've noticed the same pattern suggested in your sentences that I did(still do), which is that I'll repeat the anxious situation in my head. In reality, as in the people that I actually end up talking to, I realized that I was doing mostly fine. I was okay with what I was saying, okay with how they responded. However, I ran into the same problem as you. I had a roommate who loved to talk, I tried getting outside and volunteering for data entry and a pet shelter and some other stuff. In the end though, I would never talk to anyone, and when I did not only did I feel further away from people I felt emotionally drained. I would replay the situation over and over, I would love the feeling of getting out of a conversation. The happiest moments I had was when I was alone with my computer watching anime, that made me feel more connected to others than talking to people online or posts like these.
The worst times I had in my life was around other people, being at the whim of their behavior, feeling like I had to conform to whatever they said or something bad would happen. Hell is other people. However, I still wanted and want other people. How useless a desire is that?
I began journaling, writing, trying to connect to others through that. I talk to people from time to time, and I gained confidence from challenging my own writing. That, and hitting 30 really helped. It felt like I was just a dumbass back then, I honestly think that no one could have told me anything. If a girl wanted to fuck me I would have had to say yes, if someone wanted to be my friend I would have had to say yes. My life was like driftwood, and it's still driftwood, but at least I feel like high quality driftwood.
I think the only real difference between me and the rest of the depressive imageboard types is that I refused on a very basic level to not have fun. It's always been a strangely powerful belief, that if there isn't any joy in life,
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