Dwelling on what could have been is an exercise in pain and futility, but it is also where my mind goes when I think of intersectionality. I think the interaction between my different aspects of identity allowed me to fall into the in-between spaces, so I never fit anywhere (until recently).  

I worked out I was ‘other’ at the time crushes became the topic of choice between girls. For a while answering ‘no one’ was accepted but after a few years the denial became noticeable, and socially unacceptable.

Yet when I found out about asexuality I rejected it. What was described by those few early brave asexuals who put themselves out there didn’t describe my experience. In hindsight I realise my nebulous sexuality and raging aromanticism actually cut me off from a community that could have probably helped me with my sense of place in the world.

Being diagnosed with a chronic condition didn’t help with my sense of belonging, but it did give me an excuse to avoid all questions about myself that I could not answer.

Why don’t you date? illness.

Why don’t you like anyone? Too tired from illness.

Do you have a crush on a celebrity? Too distracted by illness.

Inflating the effect my condition had on my life made it take up more room in my head, gave it more importance and influence than it probably deserved (well, at least after it was controlled, stable, and I stopped having hallucinations).

My self-esteem took many hits in the following years. Taken advantage of and belittled, made to feel broken and purposely provoked. Like the butterfly effect, I have no idea how those things have spiralled to change who I grew into.

And I was grown. I was mid-20s when I discovered a community I felt I belonged to.

If my aromanticism hadn’t been so strong I might have found a place in the talking-about-love asexual community of the time. If my sexuality had been less ‘active’ in my teens (I totally blame hormones) I might have discovered aromanticism earlier.

If I’d found a community for support I believe I would have been able to protect my vulnerable questioning side from the attacks it suffered from peers in those ensuing years. Or at least realised enough to stop putting myself in those situations.

I am probably quieter, less trusting, more of a reader, more self-aware and self-reflective than I might otherwise have been. I’m also now very good at seeing red-flags and microagressions. I am scarred but stronger, my romantic orientation and sexuality were my weaknesses but now they are my strength.