on autism, friendship, and not reaching out.

or: it don’t mean I don’t love you

it recently came to my attention that I do friendship in what seems to be a pretty non-normative way. I was talking to a friend, probably my closest friend right now, one of the only people I feel really comfortable unmasking with, and I was talking about how good she is at staying in touch and having plans with people, musing that she must be an extrovert. she pointed out that I don’t really reach out, don’t invite people to do things, and my mind immediately turned to excuses: my life has been so tumultuous, my depression, needing to finish unpacking, etc. and then she did a thing that I’m so thankful for: she walked me through the way she does it and was curious with me. she said that she imagined me home alone, and wondered if in those moments I ever wished that I was doing things with people instead. I felt like a deer in headlights as I said “no, never. like… never ever.” that I will sometimes just wither away in misery for days before considering that I might need human company…