I Have Needs (And That Doesn’t Make Me Weak)

I’ve realized something lately.

For most of my life, I’ve tried to earn understanding by performing well. I thought if I kept the house clean, stayed organized, hit every mark, I’d be more lovable. More acceptable. Less of a burden.

But here’s the truth I’ve slowly come to accept:

I have needs.

Not dramatic ones. Not unreasonable ones. Just human ones.

I need compassion — especially when I’m mentally and physically drained.
I need understanding — not judgment — when my energy runs out before the mess gets cleared.
I need someone who sees that I’m genuinely trying my best, even if the results don’t always show it.

That doesn’t make me weak.
It makes me honest.

I likely have inattentive ADHD. I’ve never had an organized home, no matter how many systems I’ve tried or how much effort I’ve put in. And I have put in a lot.
It’s not about laziness. It’s not about carelessness.
It’s about energy — and the way my brain works.

The hard part isn’t the mess.
The hard part is the shame that attaches to it — the fear that someone will come in, see the clutter, and think it reflects my worth.

Worse still is the fear that they’ll complain about me to friends or family. That they’ll tell stories about how “Alex just can’t keep on top of things.” That betrayal cuts deeper than any criticism, because I’ve lived it before.

So I’m trying something different.

I’m not performing anymore.
I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not, just to feel acceptable.

If someone’s going to be part of my life — really part of it — I need them to understand a few things:

• I work in long-term systems, not instant fixes.
• I feel calm when things are in order, but it’s often beyond my current capacity.
• I’m doing my best. That has to be enough.
• I don’t want to be managed. I want to be trusted.

I might want someone to live with me one day. Or maybe I won’t. But if I do, it’ll be someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m failing at being human just because I’m tired.

Because I’m not lazy. I’m not broken.
I’m just someone with different rhythms — someone who deserves to be met with care, not correction.

I have needs.
And I’m not ashamed of them anymore.

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