I’m a digital content creator and entrepreneur, legally disabled due to a rare autistic genetic disorder that was only recently discovered. My whole life, people have misdiagnosed me, misunderstood me, or assumed things about me that aren’t true. I’m deeply spiritual and have a strong passion for philosophy, religion, history, science, and math—I see how they all connect. Before digital art became mainstream, I was creating, and I still do. Most importantly, I’m a single mother doing everything I can to provide for my child while searching for someone who truly sees me and reciprocates the love and care I give.

Life has thrown a lot at me, especially lately. In December, I was physically assaulted by my sister, and not long after, my mother kicked me and my daughter out, leaving us homeless for over two weeks. Eventually, my abusive ex-girlfriend took us in, but only so I could watch my daughter open Christmas presents. When she got sick, I stayed a little longer to care for both her and my child. Instead of gratitude, she told me I did “the bare minimum” and now somehow believes she’s entitled to custody of my child—simply because she once helped an abused, pregnant woman.

I ended my relationship with her last August, around the time I met someone new—someone I instantly connected with. We fell hard for each other and even harder for each other’s kids. We planned a future together, but we had to navigate things carefully since she was leaving a manipulative husband and processing years of trauma. Meanwhile, I was still dealing with my abusive husband, my ex’s delusions, and my so-called best friend’s manipulation. They all convinced me to voluntarily check myself into the hospital, thinking it would be a safe place to decompress. Instead, I found myself among felons—who, ironically, treated me with more kindness and respect than most people in my life.

People constantly misjudge me. They assume I’m bipolar or have BPD, but the reality is that there’s nothing “wrong” with me. I’m autistic, and now I finally have the proof. But no matter how much I explain, people refuse to believe I know myself. When I ask others if they’re okay, they act like I’m the problem, as if I’m dangerous just for caring.

Today has been especially difficult. While out delivering food, I was physically hurt and robbed, leaving me with nothing. I’m exhausted, I’m struggling, and I’m just trying to hold everything together. I know my worth—I know I’m a catch. I just want someone who sees that, who meets me with the same energy, and who will hug me back one day.