More Than Just a Shell

 Yesterday, we spent the day with Calvin’s family, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just going through the motions. I wasn’t a shell of a person. I smiled. I laughed. I lived.

Living with agoraphobia, it’s hard to find those moments when I don’t feel trapped—when I don’t feel like I’m hiding behind walls I’ve built with my own two hands. But yesterday was different. Surrounded by people who accepted me for who I am, I could just be. No pretending.

It wasn’t about fitting in or being “good enough.” It was about being seen. I didn’t have to worry about my anxiety creeping in, or that familiar fear of not measuring up. I didn’t have to hold my breath, waiting for something to feel wrong. I could just exist in the moment.

I wasn’t smothered by the number of people in each room. I had an appetite—something I often lose when my anxiety takes hold. I didn’t feel the pressure, the panic, or that overwhelming discomfort in my own skin—the feeling that I don’t belong, which so often eats me alive when I’m around others.

Since my autism diagnosis, I’ve felt inadequate. Like I don’t belong. Like an outcast. Less than. Not equal to. Subpar. My autism diagnosis has honestly made me feel a little less human. I’m constantly tightening my mask, trying not to let any of my quirks slip through. Getting my diagnosis has really shaken me in ways I don’t talk about enough.

It was, and still is, such a relief to get diagnosed—to have answers. To finally know WHY I am the way I am. But on the other hand, living in oblivion was a blessing too. Just thinking I was “weird.” I accepted that I was different, but accepting I have autism? That’s been tricky. It makes me feel inferior, like I’m almost good enough. And I fear doing something odd—(probably an autistic tendency)—and getting judged for it. 

Because some things I do are just that: weird.

I accepted the “weird” a long time ago, but I’m having a hard time swallowing the “autistic.” I’ve convinced myself something is wrong with me, that I’m a subpar human.

It’s been a real struggle. My autism has intensified my agoraphobia. I’ve really been struggling with get-togethers, but I accept every invite, and I go every time because I don’t want to live like this.

I don’t want to be a hermit who never leaves the house. I don’t want to be so scared to show my true self that I hide from everyone—including those I love, and those who love me.

I want to be accepted, and loved by others, but more than anything, I just want to be accepted and loved by myself.

I have an amazing therapist. We are working through this together. Calvin has been my rock, and the best part? I can fully unmask with him, and he loves me for it.

Home life has been amazing. So, while I’m barely leaving the house, I’m happy. We’ve been playing more, snuggling often, and really just taking the time to love each other. Not leaving the house gives me time—time I didn’t seem to have before. Time to love and appreciate what I have, and really soak it all in.