Irony

I’ve had the most ironic experience of my entire life now.

I applied earlier in the week to a social anxiety support group (after filling out the forms, staring at the submit button, and waiting for a while, staring more, hovering over it, closing the page, redoing it all, hovering, then submitting). They said it was for all types of social anxiety, and damn it, I figure there’s nothing to lose. Well, besides time, pride, confidence…okay, nothing tangible to lose if I could sack up and get to the meeting. Which I was nervous about, naturally, but looked forward to in a way.

Today I got the rejection. “This group is only for people dealing with forms of social anxiety, not Asperger’s.”

I now fear rejection too much to reply an explain the former is a major part of the latter. Perhaps nature, perhaps nurture, but most certainly an element for a large, large amount of people on the autistic spectrum.

But at least from my usual misanthropic point of view I can laugh about it, because in their offhand rejection before even talking to me or allowing me to explain why I want to join, they reinforce the problem. And I’m betting I’m not the first person to be turned away!