At the movies and the stores.

When I go to the movies, they ask me to “submit” my backpack. They fear that I will use my laptop and possibly sneak some other equipment in to tape the movie.

When I go to the stores, they ask me to “submit” my backpack. They fear that I will steal things. The store has CCTV cameras. The store might even have theft barriers that you walk in the middle from when coming in or going out. Yet, distrust is heavy.

My bag has everything I can need at any point during the day – when I’m not at home:

• Dry tissues.
• Wet tissues.
• A small water bottle.
• Sanitiser.
• Pads.
• Pens.
• Eyeliner/kajal.
• Lip balm.
• Wallet with cash and cards.
• General medication.
• Band-aids.
• Hair ties.
• Comb.
• The box that my spectacles came with – including a cloth for cleaning.
• A disinfectant spray if I need to pee in a public washroom.
• Phone charger.
• Power bank.
• Headphones.
• Earphones.

These are all my basic comfort items when I leave the confines of my house. Sometimes I might add to the list:

• Post it notes.
• A notebook.
• A book.
• Bracelets.
• Scarf.

Largely, the theme is still the same: comfort through familiar and/or personal objects.

So when asked to give away my bag of comfort items, I am resistant.

It doesn’t help that in a world of law and order, being outright painted as a potential thief denies me my autonomy and humanity. Despite this, I am expected to purchase items from that store, often at unreasonable prices.

I must add that the prices feel more unreasonable because I’ve been painted as a potential thief. Because I am mistreated. Those are not strong words, though I bet getting in touch with customer support of these stores and brands will yield exactly those accusations – that I am blowing things out of proportion and that these measures are necessary for the wider good of their customers. I don’t bother. That is energy wasted. Energy is precious.

I ask the cinema manager to make an execption for me – not because I’m neurodivergent, but because I’m only giving them business under the condition that my backpack make it in. I book the ticket on the spot – only when assured that my backpack is going in with me. I ask for an explanation of the policy. I give a personal promise not to pirate content.

On the road.

When someone overtakes me while driving from the “wrong” side, I am angry. Order has been set on the road to ensure the collective safety of everyone. In an event that an accident occurs because the other driver attempted to go around me from a side I don’t have an immediate and clear view of at all times, the blame will rest on me anyway. This feels unfair.

I do what I can – flash my lights in anger. Sometimes honk if it’s not a residential area.

Headlights are bright and loud – they hurt my eyes, they hurt my visibility. But eh, the person driving feels superior, don’t they? Safety is trampled over over in the interest of personal ego. Collective safety, remember? Gone!

At cafés.

The music is loud. People are loud. I pull out my noise cancellation headphones. But these are entry/mid level headphones. They do an OK job. They take the edge off. But I can still listen to the cacophony of people. I am unsettled. Uncomfortable. I then play music when all I want is silence.

Lighting is harsh. In the interest of consistency (I respect that), the staff refuses to dim or turn off the lights where I am sitting (ugh).

Some light bulbs are exposed – hitting me right in the eye.

Some cafés are empathic and listen. Other cafés explain they have to cater to “everyone” – a veiled attempt at appeasing the majority. The neurotypicals.

In social settings.

It’s hard to not be made fun of.

“Why are you carrying that much stuff? We’ve just come out for coffee.”

“Do you really need that much stuff?”

“You should pack lighter.”

When traveling.

I am told the same things again.

“You should pack lighter.”

“Do you really need that much stuff?”

“Why are you carrying that much stuff?”

The stuffed toy is my comfort in a strange land. I miss home. I miss my room. In a freshly drawn window with a 100 different things, I have half a personal artifact to lessen the blow.

Am I guilty?

The stress of it all.

I am stressed. A lot. And I realise maybe a third of it comes from just being…different. Having needs that a majority of people do not understand or do not wish to accommodate. Having an understanding of how to exist in the world with other people – that other people do not adhere to at their will.

A softer world, I crave for.

I crave for a lot.

I don’t want to cry when my things are being taken away from me.

I don’t want to cry when I miss the first ten minute of the movie I wanted to watch.

Please help make the world a better place?