For a long time, I thought (and was told) that the reason I'm 'too sensitive' around Boomers is because I'm autistic and 'can't handle anything.' (Of course, most of them assume autism is fake, or that because I work a full time job, that I'm not autistic.) I was diagnosed with autism finally at age 30, after a lifetime of struggle.

This sub is making me feel less and less self-loathing every time I read it.

I thought I was 'overly sensitive', doing things wrong, worse at things than other people, etc. And yes, I'm extra sensitive to sensory things. But it turns out Boomers are just extreme to deal with. I was always insanely overly stimulated as a kid and teen. Always exhausted. Always in tears. I was always hiding in my room and desperately trying to escape interacting with family after school.

It turns out I may not have been terrible at driving when I tried learning. It may have been that my mother kept gasping, pointing, yelling, gripping the door handle, and letting her anxiety spike through the roof, which distracted me from learning a new task, when new skills usually take me weeks or months longer to learn than other people.

I may not be too much of an overly sensitive, angry person. I may just get more exhausted when a Boomer is rattling off one of their special Boomer Quizzes, where they ask question after question after question. They fill every second of silence with random questions, comments, or even throat noises. They'll ask the same questions over and over again, then get angry because 'you're quiet.' I felt insane when I'd get told about the new bathroom paint color, I'd listen and respond, and then when I got quiet again, I'd get told about the new bathroom paint color again. Then again. And again. When I'd get snippy, I was told they were 'just trying to start conversation.' Perhaps we don't need to 'start conversation' every few seconds?

I may not be impatient. I may just be getting frustrated that I grew up with Boomer parents that have literally no concept of time. Everything is dawdling. Do we need to get to a restaurant for a reservation in 15 minutes? It's time to pop into a nearby shop and spend 20 minutes there. Do we need to meet up somewhere? Don't worry, I'll be sitting there for up to an hour past the meeting time because they 'just had to do some little chores before leaving.' Is the waitress at our table asking what we'd like to eat? Don't worry, the last time the waitress asked if we needed more time and we said yes, they didn't look at the menu anyway.

I'm the autistic one, but I've gotten embarrassed in public countless times because my parents were oddly acting like children. I don't even mean throwing fits. I mean my mom will sometimes talk in a weird baby voice, say things to me like I'm a literal baby. I didn't get diagnosed until age 30, so it's not that she knew I was autistic growing up and is baby me because of that. She just... will talk like a baby. She will treat me as if I am a literal toddler. 'Ohhhh, look at the menu! Looks good? You want lunch? Hungry? Hah! They have mac and cheese, that's your favorite! Hah! Ooooooo, look at the coffees! I know you like coffee! Hah! That's your favorite!' Meanwhile, I am beet red in the face as the wait-staff glances over.

There is something clinically wrong with me, yes, but I always felt guilt and self-loathing over the fact that I'd get impatient, overstimulated, and even enraged over these interactions.