Author: Cryptic Anomaly
At some point, explaining yourself stops feeling like communication and starts feeling like another thing you have to survive. It becomes the moment where you are expected to take your private reality, make it simple enough for someone else to understand and then hope they do not twist it into whatever they already believed. This is especially exhausting when the explanation is about disability, mental health or trauma. These are not small details. They are parts of a person’s life that already require enough energy without constantly turning them into evidence for someone else’s understanding.
For me, this happens a lot around disability, mental health and trauma history. People ask questions that may seem harmless to them, but those questions often come from assumptions. “You don’t look blind.” “What happened? Why do you need a cane?” “If you have a visual disability, how are you able to type messages?” “You are too amazing to be depressed.” These comments are annoying because they already carry a misconception inside them. The person may think they are only asking a simple question, but I am the one who has to deal with the emotional weight behind it. I am the one who has to decide whether I have the energy to explain that blindness does not always mean seeing only darkness, that visual disability can exist in many forms, that assistive technology exists and that depression does not disappear because someone seems intelligent, capable or kind.
With that being said, I do think many people should learn more about various disabilities. Non-disabled people need more compassion and basic education about different types of disabilities. It should not be surprising that someone can have a visual disability and still type messages. It should not be viewed as “pretending” that someone can use a cane but still have some remaining vision. It should not be shocking that someone can look “normal” from the outside and still be dealing with something difficult, disabling or painful on the inside. The issue is not that people do not know everything. Nobody knows everything. The issue is when people ask from a place of assumption instead of genuine curiosity, then still cling to their own preconceptions after you answer them.
These are the parts that become exhausting. I am not only answering a question. I am correcting misinformation, managing my frustration, trying not to sound irritated, softening the truth so the other person does not feel attacked and proving that my experience is real. There is a difference between someone asking because they genuinely want to understand and someone asking because they already decided what disability or mental health is supposed to look like. Genuine curiosity has humility in it. It listens. It allows itself to be corrected. It does not treat another person’s life like an interesting little puzzle. Assumption does not listen in the same way. Assumption asks a question while holding tightly to the answer it already prefers.
Mental health makes this even more complicated. People hear a label, a symptom or a disorder and suddenly think they have enough information to give advice. They may say things they think are helpful, but it often feels shallow and unwanted. I am in therapy. I do not need a non-professional person giving me advice based on their assumptions about a label I use to describe my symptoms or disorder. There is a difference between support and unsolicited advice. Support asks what would actually help. Unsolicited advice assumes the person has found the magical obvious answer that somehow the person living with the condition, and the professionals helping them, never considered.
This is why not explaining myself has become necessary. It is not about trying to be rude or cold. It is not about acting as if nobody deserves to understand me. It is about protection, discernment and knowing when a conversation is already becoming a waste of energy. It is about noticing when someone is not really listening and when they are only waiting for me to say something they can reshape into their own opinion. At that point, explaining myself does not create peace. It creates more frustration.
Some people may think refusing to explain yourself is defensive. They may think silence means you are being difficult, dramatic or closed off. However, I do not need to explain myself to people who are going to ignore what I say or continue clinging to their own biased opinions anyway. My life is not up for debate simply because someone does not understand it. I do not need to keep telling my story to people who have already decided that their assumptions are more believable than my actual experience. There is no dignity in constantly trying to convince people that your reality is real. There is no well-being in turning every misunderstanding into another performance of patience.
Not every question deserves my answer. Not every person deserves access to the details behind my disability, trauma, symptoms, boundaries or emotional reactions. Some parts of my life are not public property just because someone else is curious. A person’s curiosity does not automatically create an obligation for me to educate them. A person’s confusion does not automatically mean I must turn myself into a lesson. Sometimes the most honest answer is short. Sometimes the most protective answer is silence. Sometimes the kindest thing I can do for myself is to stop explaining before I abandon myself.
This does not mean I never explain anything. There are people who ask with care and listen attentively. There are people who are willing to be corrected without becoming defensive. Those conversations feel different. They do not make me feel like I am being studied through someone else’s ignorance. They do not make me feel like I have to fight for my own reality to be accepted. In those moments, explaining can feel useful and humane.
However, I am learning that my energy is not available for every assumption placed in front of me. My experiences and my life are not defined by someone else’s biased opinions, lack of education or misconceptions. They are not less real because someone cannot recognise them from the outside. They are not up for debate because someone has a narrow idea of what blindness, trauma or depression should look like.
The option of not explaining yourself is not about disappearing. It is about choosing when your voice deserves to be used and when your silence can protect you better. It is about knowing that you do not have to keep proving yourself to people who are committed to misunderstanding you. Ultimately, there is strength in saying less. There is peace in knowing the truth without dragging it into every conversation. There is dignity in letting your silence say, “I know my life. I know what I experience. I do not need to keep defending it to you.”
The Anomalous Press 