Hate It When My Coworkers Ask Me How Im Doing. Like, Fuck Off. You Dont Want An Answer. You Want An Im

Hate it when my coworkers ask me how I’m doing. Like, fuck off. You don’t want an answer. You want an “I’m doing alright, how are you?” which is a fucking lie and makes me feel bad for being a liar. But you don’t want the truth. And when I tell you, you look at me like I’m the crazy one here for… *checks notes* being honest? If you didn’t want me to say, “I can’t tell if I wanna die, cut myself, try to get high off my meds, quit this job and disappear, or just go to sleep,” then you shouldn’t have fucking asked.

Also, loving how whenever my mood gets bad, my pain gets worse, and the other way around. It’s a cycle that I can’t escape from and all I wanna do is sleep all day. But I have fucking insomnia.

Laughing so hard at this and I’m not even diagnosed

"stop making BPD your whole entire personality!"

it might seem crazy what I'm about to say

Working at a place that specifically hires autistic people. Sounds great in theory, right? WRONG. They treat me like a child. I know that autism is a spectrum, but apparently the higher-ups of my job don’t get that? I’m an adult. Sure, I’m an immature fuck-up of an adult, but, like, shut the fuck up. I’m gonna be 20 in a month. You don’t get to talk down to me when I know I’m smarter than you. Not trying to sound like an asshole, but I know for a fact that I’m smarter than the people in charge here. Been working here a few months now, and I’ve thought of so many ways that this place could be run more efficiently. They treat me like a lazy child because I don’t put 100% of my energy into my work anymore. Well, the last time I did that, I had to go to the ER for heat exhaustion. This building has no windows, no ventilation, and no air conditioning. Just two poorly placed fans that aren’t on half the time. And machines that get over 400 degrees Fahrenheit. I’m more sensitive to heat than most people. I know that. But that’s no excuse.

Honestly can’t tell if they treat me like shit because I’m visibly tired and in pain all the time, because I’m on a different part of the spectrum than my coworkers, because I’ve got ADHD as well as autism, or because I’m trans and they view me as a fragile little girl. Yeah, I’m fucked up physically and mentally. That doesn’t make me weak. The fact I still show up here and get more done in an hour than my better-paid coworkers do in a week ought to make it pretty fucking obvious that I’m good at my job.

I have nothing against my coworkers, by the way. I understand that it’s a spectrum. It’s the people further above me. The neurotypical ones who think we’re all the same.