I'm not sure how many people I know have ever felt this, and I'm not positive I can articulate it well.
I know I can't be the only one who feels it on a regular basis, though to be honest, I hope I'm wrong. Either way, I'm having a terribly rough day emotionally, and this has been plaguing me continually of late, so here goes...
The feeling I am thinking about is the feeling of inadequacy that one gets when they see a friend or relative do a task so effortlessly that it appears they are not even trying. It's the realization that one would not be able to do that task themselves, maybe even with years of practice, let alone with a modicum of skill.
It's the jealous knowledge that their peers are all better at pretty much everything than they are. And always will be.
It's the realization that because of the way one has developed and grown mentally, and her own myriad issues, this will never change, and she will always struggle with mundane tasks like caring for herself on a day-to-day basis.
This is a quiet but immediately desperate guilt. One that cannot be easily made to go away temporarily, let alone at all. One that lingers perpetually, even when one believes they have shaken it. A disquieting unease that never resolves itself.
This is a voice in the back of my head that tells me every day that, "you are incapable of living a normal life because of your mental limitations and phobias. You are not a complete person."
A recurring, less than gentle reminder that my thought processes do not work the same way that other peoples' do, and that I will probably never know what it feels like to be normal.
I know there is a common theme in autistic spectrum circles for this concept: the frustration at being self-aware enough to know how dreadfully vast the chasm between oneself and the rest of humanity truly is, but the inability to do anything about it. I simply don't know what it's called.
I don't know that I'm autistic. Heck, I don't know anything, really. Just this too-familiar feeling that I am lacking... "less-than", somehow. Not as good.
Though I have to admit... knowing what its called?: That sure as hell won't make it hurt any less. Nor would it ease the sting of disappointment in, or resentment for myself that I feel every time this surfaces anew...