After much self-reflection, I think I figured out what specifically traumatised me about my grandparents, to the point I became mute around them and started speaking in a soft whisper to everyone else.

My grandparents took care of me in my early childhood while my parents were at work. When my parents weren’t around, I witnessed my grandfather abusing my grandmother. But in front of other people, my grandfather presented himself as a good man.

As an Autistic child who needed consistency and predictability to feel safe, and whose brain was still developing, it felt deeply confusing and destabilising to see my grandfather have this Jekyll-and-Hyde personality. I didn’t understand why everyone acted as if there was nothing off about my grandfather, while I felt super uncomfortable around him. It was such a mindfuck.

The only way I could make sense of this as a child was by believing that there must be something wrong with my perception. If all the adults around me thought my grandfather was a nice guy, that must mean I was wrong, right?

I now understand this as gaslighting, even if it wasn’t intentional. The world was telling me my reality was wrong. I learnt to override my own instincts to align with what adults told me was true.

I believe this was the cause of my selective mutism/psychogenic aphonia/whatever the fuck I have. It became virtually impossible to speak to my grandparents because I thought I couldn’t trust what my eyes were seeing. I remember there was a day—or maybe several—where I refused to open my eyes the entire time I was with my grandparents. Even when my grandfather took me out to buy toys, I kept my eyes closed throughout the trip.

Convincing myself that I couldn’t trust the way I viewed things turned out to be a very damaging message to internalise at an early age. For most of my life, I gave up my agency to other people (parents, teachers, therapists, authority figures, or anyone I perceived to be more intelligent than me) because I assumed they knew what was best for me better than I did (spoiler: they actually didn’t).

After my grandfather died, my grandmother began to open up to people about the abuse she endured from him. And after my grandmother died, I slowly connected the dots between my early childhood experiences with my grandparents and my voice loss.

I’m now grieving all the years I spent believing I couldn’t trust my own mind, when it turns out I was fucking spot-on all along about my grandfather being an abusive asshole.

I’m slowly learning to trust my own judgment. It should be easier now that I understand where the self-doubt originated from, but I know my nervous system will take time to catch up.

I was right then. I can trust myself now.