ch4 excerpts

It was being told, more than once, that I was a punishment from God for her sins. That I wasn't a person. That I was a shadow of a child left behind to torture her after my sister died.

I had cried for my sister. We all had. But after the funeral, I was expected to never mention her again. Any display of grief on my part became ammunition against me. The new directive was installed: emotional suppression. Permanent. Deep integration.

But let’s not lose sight of the core OS in all this.

Even while trauma was coding in new rules, I was still the same sensory sponge—absorbing, analyzing, predicting. And I also carried the weight of what many of us on the spectrum carry: the double empathy problem. The inability for typical people to understand us, coupled with our painful over-identification with them. Their pain registered in my system as something I had caused, even if it hadn’t been me. Their discomfort was internalized. Their confusion, my shame.

Which meant I avoided them.

Not because I didn’t want friends. I desperately did. But every attempt at interaction failed. I was bullied, usually for being quiet or different. But sometimes because I said something in defense of myself that, while true and logical, came off as bizarre. Funny to them. A punchline. It only encouraged them more.

So I watched.

My early school years were observational. I was trying to model behavior that would let me survive. I accepted social rules because to question them would’ve made things worse. I accepted religion, ritual, God—all of it—because the cost of not doing so would’ve meant violence or abandonment. There was no internal rebellion yet. No hunt for contradictions in authority or systems. Just compliance. Just survival.

 

 

 

 

External Response Mask

 

def external_interface(context):

    if context == "classroom_question":

        return filtered_query()

    elif context == "social_interaction":

        return mimic_behavior()

    elif context == "grief_response":

        return suppress_emotion()

    else:

        return silence

 

def mimic_behavior():

    return "Echo appropriate phrase. Smile or nod. Exit as soon as possible."

 

def suppress_emotion():

    return "Suppress all non-conforming outputs. Smile when in doubt."

 

This wasn’t dysfunction. Not yet. It was a fragile, powerful adaptation. A system refining itself, learning what must be hidden in order to survive.

The inquisitor—my internal subroutine that polices thoughts, flags anomalies, rejects vulnerability—was already running. And he never missed a beat.

But it’s important to remember this: He wasn’t born of trauma. He was activated by it.

And I, the system, continued to function. Even if I didn’t yet understand what I was becoming.