No, I consider the rest of the world to be the disability which consistently tries, very very hard, to prevent me from being my usual average normal natural self. I’ve never ceased to be amazed at just how petulantly demanding the rest of the world is, that I comply with its notion of propriety just so I can be allowed to get along, and that demandingness and petulance is clearly much more of a dysfunction than anything which I bring to it. In the relationship between me and the rest of the world, I’m always the open-minded and accommodating one, I’m always the one who bends over backwards to meet halfway in the middle, I’m always the one who doesn’t get what he wants and yet realizes (with some wistfulness or chagrin) that in order to have a relationship you can’t always get what you want, and meanwhile the rest of the world is certainly the one which needs some therapy, a good hug, and maybe a solid whap on the back of the head and a stern order to start acting more like an adult and less like a cry-baby. It’s a bit like a John Wayne movie, with me as the gunslinger and the rest of the world as the squeaky-voiced short nerdy guy from the big city who can’t function without getting his nails manicured properly, I’m going to persevere and the childish city-slicker is either going to get shot by a tough bad guy about halfway through the movie, or held hostage, or he’s going to learn to stop whining and become a bit more plucky and just dang well bother to man it up a bit, in which case we’ll learn to like the city slicker while the gunslinger cocks his hat toward him at the end for a job (a very small job, but an important one) well done despite all expectations to the contrary. I’m the gunslinger, competent but excluded; the city-slicker is all those people in charge of the rest of the world, in very bad need of a stern lesson from Mr. Wayne but, alas, also for some gol’-dang reason the city-slicker is actually already in charge of things.
I’d like to try to put this more succinctly:
No, I’m not the problem. They are, with their unsupportive, demanding, selfish, needy, irrational, whiny expectations. I don’t abuse them like they abuse me. I’m the victim here, they’re the abusers, the ones who don’t open their minds to all people and all possibilities. I get squeezed involuntarily into their box. Why would that ever make me the problem?