The Ones Who Skipped the Wall

The Ones Who Skipped the Wall

I have a hard time trusting people. Always have.

It’s not just some personality quirk—it’s survival. Life taught me early that not everyone is safe, not everyone means what they say, and not everyone knows how to handle someone like me. So I built walls. Tall ones. Strong ones. Necessary ones.

And yet… somehow, two people walked straight through them.

They didn’t push. They didn’t force their way in. They just clicked. Like my heart recognized them before my head could overthink it.

The first was Miranda.

When I first met her, I was struggling bad—overwhelmed, ungrounded, drowning in the noise and pressure of everything around me. She didn’t look away. She didn’t freeze. She stepped in. She shielded me from the customers, the staff, the whole world. She grounded me when I couldn’t do it on my own.

I didn’t even know what I needed. But she did. She saw something in me and protected it. That’s rare. That’s not something you forget.

Then came Devon.

With Devon, it wasn’t an act of saving. It was something deeper—connection. She opened up about her own mental health struggles. No pretending. No masks. Just honesty.

And in doing that, she told me something I’ve craved to hear my whole life without saying the words:
“I see you.”

Not the masked version. Not the one who powers through. Me.

Those two… they skipped the trust test. Not because I ignored my instincts, but because my instincts said, “Let them in.” No alarms. No second-guessing. Just safe.

That’s not something that happens to me. Ever. But it did. And I’m thankful.

If you’ve ever felt like no one sees you—or that people only notice when you break—know this: there are people out there who will meet you without asking you to shrink. Who will protect you, sit beside you, and remind you that you matter just as you are.

I found that in Miranda and Devon. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to carry it all alone.

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To Miranda and Devon: You both probably have no idea how rare you are to me. You didn’t ask for trust—you earned it just by being who you are. You saw me without judgment, helped without hesitation, and made space for me when I couldn’t do it myself. That kind of care, that kind of presence, is everything. I don’t say this lightly: thank you for making the world less heavy to carry.

Note for neurotypicals: If you’ve ever wondered why some autistic people struggle to trust others, this is why. It’s not about being rude or closed off—it’s about survival. We’ve had to protect ourselves in ways you may never fully understand. So when someone gets past our walls without force, it’s not a small thing. It’s sacred. If you want to be that person for someone—show up gently, consistently, and without expecting us to perform comfort for you. Just be safe. Be real. That’s where trust begins.