You know what we need?
Today, a bit of poetry emerges from the chaos swirling around me, my Scottish soul crying out for expression. It began with a chance encounter - a meme on social media posing a deceptively simple question: “You know what we need?” This sparked a realization: we need a name for the specific form of complex trauma experienced by those who grow up unaware of fundamental truths about themselves.
As both an autistic individual and a transgender woman, I’ve lived through two parallel journeys of self-discovery and struggle. The trauma of navigating a world not built for you, of trying to fit into a mold that was never meant to contain your true self - these experiences are shared by undiagnosed autistic people and pre-transition transgender individuals alike.
This two-part poem delves into these complex journeys, exploring the similarities in the patterns of confusion, masking, and eventual self-realization. It’s an attempt to give voice to the unspoken, to name the nameless trauma that shapes so many lives. From a random internet meme, a deeper truth emerged - the universal human experience of feeling unheard, unseen, and misunderstood, and the profound impact of finally recognising oneself.
The Unheard Self
You know what we need?
A name for the specific form of complex trauma
you develop if you grow up unaware that you’re autistic.
Every autistic person I talk to has the same basic pattern to overcome.
It looks like this:
One:
You grow up with needs and interests that nobody can understand.
Those are coming from your self, they are how your body tells you what it needs.
But your self is different in meaningful ways from those of the people around you.
And you are too, so you don’t understand.
The self whispers, unheard.
Two:
Over time, you learn that when your Self is in conflict with what others expect from you,
the people in your life will assure you that everything is fine and you just have to try harder.
So, confused, you try harder.
The self whispers, unheard.
Three:
At some point, you come to see the self as a source of nonsensical demands that make your life harder.
You start to distance yourself from it, build walls to keep it at bay.
You understand that you need to trust others, not yourself, about how the world works.
The self whispers, unheard.
Four:
Now your entire identity becomes increasingly predicated on earning the approval of other people.
Maybe you find that this is easy enough - you learn to mask, and it’s clunky at first
but eventually you synthesise an identity(ies) that more or less works for your life at that time.
The self whispers, unheard.
Five:
You grow up, get through school (which you are only capable of navigating by masking,
and you assume everyone else is engaged in similar struggles) and you find yourself in the world.
Great! You did it!
The self whispers, unheard.
Six:
You’re probably pretty smart. You have been living a purely cognitive life,
processing everything intellectually because what else would you do.
Your self and its needs are long forgotten.
And so you build a life as your mask. You know something is wrong, but what?
The self whispers, unheard.
Seven:
You start having adult friendships and relationships,
and no matter how well they start, they all fall apart for reasons you can’t fully understand.
So you learn to mask harder. You figure it out. Maybe, you get married, have children.
The self whispers, unheard.
Eight:
But that vague disquiet, that sense that something is wrong?
Instead of getting quieter with age it’s getting louder.
It gets to the point where it feels like a klaxon in your head telling you your whole life is wrong.
But, what the fuck does that even mean?
The self whispers, unheard.
Nine:
You get older. Now in your 30s, your life looks very different.
Instead of going out with friends after work every night, you can barely function.
Taking care of yourself becomes harder. Your temper appears in random places.
The self whispers, unheard.
Ten:
You’re drowning in a sea of inexplicable challenges,
Grasping for answers that seem just out of reach.
The system, designed for the neuro-majority, offers little solace.
Diagnosis and understanding remain elusive luxuries.
The self whispers, unheard.
Eleven:
This is the shared trauma of generations,
Autistics navigating a world not built for them,
Carrying the weight of years of misunderstanding and masking.
The truth hovers, tantalisingly close yet frustratingly distant.
The self whispers, unheard.
The Silenced Self
You know what we need?
A name for the specific form of complex trauma
you develop if you grow up unaware that you’re a transgender woman.
Every trans woman I talk to has the same basic pattern to overcome.
It looks like this:
One:
You grow up with a sense of self that nobody can understand.
Those feelings are coming from your true self, they are how your heart tells you who you are.
But your self is different in meaningful ways from what others see.
And you are too, so you don’t understand.
The self whispers, silenced.
Two:
Over time, you learn that when your Self is in conflict with what others expect from you,
the people in your life will assure you that everything is fine and you just have to be a good boy.
So, confused, you try harder.
The self whispers, silenced.
Three:
At some point, you come to see the self as a source of confusing desires that make your life harder.
You start to distance yourself from it, build walls to keep it at bay.
You understand that you need to trust others, not yourself, about how gender works.
The self whispers, silenced.
Four:
Now your entire identity becomes increasingly predicated on performing masculinity.
Maybe you find that this is possible - you learn to act ‘male,’ and it’s clunky at first
but eventually you synthesise an identity that more or less works for your life at that time.
The self whispers, silenced.
Five:
You grow up, get through school (which you are only capable of navigating by masking,
and you assume everyone else is engaged in similar struggles) and you find yourself in the world.
Great! You did it!
The self whispers, silenced.
Six:
You’re probably pretty adaptable. You have been living a purely performative life,
processing everything through the lens of expected male behaviour because what else would you do.
Your true self and its needs are long forgotten.
And so you build a life as your mask. You know something is wrong, but what?
The self whispers, silenced.
Seven:
You start having adult relationships,
and no matter how well they start, they all feel incomplete for reasons you can't fully understand.
So you learn to perform harder. You figure it out. Maybe, you get married, have children.
The self whispers, silenced.
Eight:
But that vague disquiet, that sense that something is wrong?
Instead of getting quieter with age it’s getting louder.
It gets to the point where it feels like a klaxon in your head telling you your whole life is wrong.
But, what the fuck does that even mean?
The self whispers, silenced.
Nine:
You get older. Now in your 30s, your life looks very different.
Instead of feeling comfortable in your role, you can barely function.
Taking care of yourself becomes harder. Your dysphoria appears in random places.
The self whispers, silenced.
Ten:
You’re drowning in a sea of inexplicable challenges,
Grasping for answers that seem just out of reach.
The system, designed for cisgender people, offers little solace.
Understanding and transition remain elusive luxuries.
The self whispers, silenced.
Eleven:
This is the shared trauma of a generation,
Trans women navigating a world not built for them,
Carrying the weight of years of misunderstanding and performing.
The truth hovers, tantalisingly close yet frustratingly distant.
The self whispers, silenced.
Cryptogenia Identitatis Trauma: Naming the Unspoken
In the echoes of these parallel journeys, a truth emerges - a shared experience that transcends the boundaries of neurology and gender. We find ourselves grappling with a phenomenon that has long lived in the shadows, shaping lives without name or recognition. Today, we give it voice: Cryptogenia Identitatis Trauma (CIT).
This term, born from the depths of ancient language, speaks to the heart of our shared struggle. ‘Cryptogenia’ - the hidden origin, the source of our differences concealed even from ourselves. ‘Identitatis’ - of identity, the very core of who we are. ‘Trauma’ - the wound that forms when we live a life misaligned, when the world demands a performance we don’t understand.
For the autistic soul, it manifests in the exhausting dance of neurotypical mimicry, a constant effort to translate the self into a language that never quite fits. The stims suppressed, the sensory overwhelm endured in silence, the social scripts performed with painstaking precision - all whilst the true self whispers, unheard.
For the transgender heart, it shows in the suffocating confines of assigned gender, the discomfort in one’s skin dismissed as mere awkwardness or phase. The constant, gnawing feeling of wrongness, the performance of gender roles that feel like ill-fitting costumes - all while the true self whispers, silenced.
In both journeys, we see the trauma of the unspoken truth, the pain of a self divided. We see the years spent trying to fix what was never broken, to fit into a world not built for us. We see the exhaustion of constant translation, the loneliness of feeling perpetually out of step.
But in naming this experience, in recognising the shared nature of our struggles, we find a new kind of strength. We create a language for the previously inexpressible, a validation for those still searching for words. In Cryptogenia Identitatis Trauma, we find not just a clinical term, but a rallying cry - a recognition that our experiences, though often invisible, are real, valid, and worthy of understanding.
As we move forward, carrying the weight of our unspoken histories, we do so with a new tool in our arsenal. We have named the nameless, and in doing so, we have taken the first step towards healing. For in recognition lies the seed of acceptance, and in acceptance, the possibility of embracing our whole, unmasked selves.