Being Loved Inaccurately
The grief of being known only in part as a neurodivergent adult.
Loneliness can occur even when you’re not alone.
It happens in the presence of people who care about you deeply, who would say without hesitation that they know you well, and yet, somehow, they don’t.
They love a version of you.
A composite built from the parts of yourself you learned to show early. The parts that were rewarded. The parts that made sense to other people. The parts that were easiest to understand.
The rest was edited out.
This is what I mean by being loved inaccurately.
Most of the people who love us are doing the best they can with the information they have. The difficulty is that the information they have is often incomplete.
Many of us come to believe from thousands of ordinary interactions, that some parts of ourselves are easier for others to accept than others. Certain ways of thinking, feeling, communicating or moving through the world are welcomed; others are met with confusion, correction, dismissal or discomfort.
So, often without conscious awareness, we adapt.
We soften our intensity. Hide our sensitivities. Suppress our excitement. Translate our thoughts into more familiar language. Laugh when we’re expected to. Stay quiet when honesty feels risky.
Over time, the adaptation becomes so practised that it no longer feels like pretending. It simply feels like being a person.
