Autism

Over the past several weeks, I've been trying to do some healing. Not just from my mother's death, but also from the trauma of spending 10 years in schools where it was not possible to be open about any aspect of who I am, from big stuff like my sexual orientation and religious views, to small stuff like what bands I liked or what clothes I really wanted to wear. I grew up as a turtle, learning to hide in a shell of fake normality, only coming out in the safety of my own room. To the outside world, nothing about me was ever right. (To any who had a fine time in public schools and doubt that it was as traumatic as I claim, I can only say that you were lucky to be less strange than I was, and to go to better or at least more liberal schools than I did.) The only way to heal from the desperate need to hide, so far as I can tell, is to refuse to hide any longer. So I need to dust off the aspects of myself that I've shoved back into dark corners for so long, and bring them out into the light. My autism is only one of those things, but since it is the most difficult to keep hiding, I figure it's a good place to start.

But You Don't Seem Disabled

First off, I don't consider myself "disabled" (as many autistic people don't), although in some situations my specific autistic traits can feel disabling. I am sometimes perceived as being "off", especially if I am spaced out or rocking or something, which can be mistaken by strangers as signs of mental retardation, mental illness, or just being a ditz. Mostly, I just see autism as a set of needs I have to think about, just as anyone does. My particular set just happens to have a name. It doesn't stop me from doing anything I want to do. I just sometimes have to go about things a different way, or think them out a little more carefully than most people would. That can be frustrating, and it can be extremely frustrating to have people assume I am unintelligent or needing of pity before I ever say a word to them. Ultimately, most of the problems my autism causes are not a direct result of who I am, but are instead a result of not being who society says I should be. I believe that when large swaths of people are excluded from fitting into society because of who they naturally are, it is society that needs to change, not them.


Do You Mean You Have Asperger's?

Of the various "disorders" the autism spectrum is broken down into, the description of Asperger's fits me the best, yes. But lately I prefer to refer to myself as "autistic", for a few reasons. One is that, while I am certain I am on the spectrum somewhere, I've never been formally diagnosed as having a particular disorder, so for me simply saying I am autistic or on the spectrum feels more honest. Another reason is that I grew up always seeing myself as "a bit autistic", because that was the best way I knew to describe myself. I didn't learn about Asperger's until my late teens, at which point a LOT of my life began to make more sense. I tend to squirm away from the word Asperger's lately, because there are so many misconceptions about what it is. The biggest reason, though, is because when I talk about autism, I'm not talking about something I "have." I'm talking about something I am. Autism is not something that can or should be removed from me any more than my queerness or my sense of humor or my heritage. Without it, I would be someone else. "People-first" language has its place - my mother, for example, did not like her disabilities to be tied to her identity, and those who feel this way should be respected - but there are some communities, notably the autistic community and the Deaf community, who embrace what society calls a disability as an integral part of who they are. We should be respected, too.


Oh, You're One of Those

Yes, I am one of those "internet-diagnosed Asperger's" people. The thing people need to understand is that, while Asperger syndrome was first described in 1944, the papers were never translated into English until 1991, and it was not included in the DSM-IV until 1994. Thus, people of my generation, especially girls, were very unlikely to be diagnosed. Even back in 2002-2003, when I was actively pursuing a diagnosis, Asperger's was very little-known, and I found myself explaining it to counselors who'd never heard of it before. The best I could get was "It does sound like you, but I'd have to do more research." So please, do have some sympathy for people who self-educated and self-identify. A few unscrupulous people have co-opted the label for themselves to seek attention or make excuses for bad behavior, but they are a minority and should not be used to gauge us all. Most of us are simply seeking the vocabulary to name something we knew or suspected to be true all along.


I Don't Believe In That/It's Just a Label

I get where you're coming from with this. As I've said, I believe something is only a disorder when it causes distress, and for many (but not all) people, Asperger's/high-functioning autism only causes distress because society is not currently set up to accomodate a wide range of personalities and ways of being. However. The plain fact is that, with the way society is currently set up, a large group of people find that the way their nervous systems function leaves them struggling to fit in, struggling to find basic things they need such as employment, housing, friendship, love, and safety. To deny that such a struggle exists is to invisibilize these people and make it impossible for them (us) to receive any accomodation, assistance, sympathy, respect, or understanding. Without the vocabulary to name ourselves and our struggle - which is a positive and important use of labels - we cannot find each other, cannot advocate for ourselves, and cannot explain how and why we are different, why we can't help it, and why it is not up to us to change ourselves. So please, embrace neurodiversity. Accept us as part of the natural continuum of human experience. But recognize that in order to get all of the world to see us that way, we need a flag to wave.


Oh, You Poor Thing, I'm So Sorry

I'll let Jim Sinclair field this one.


What Can I Do?

I don't need pity, but there are things you can do to make life easier for me and for other autistic people you may know. In my case, the things you can do are:

Understand that I have an upper threshold on how much socializing/background noise/stress I can handle, that this threshold is lower than it is for the average person, and that once it is breached, I must devote all of my attention to taking care of myself and am no longer capable of considering your needs.

Understand that in choosing to socialize with you in the first place, I am giving you one or more of my spoons (because by socializing, especially face-to-face, I risk overtaxing myself). Recognize that being given a spoon is a special gift and a sign that I do care very much about you, even if I sometimes have difficulty perceiving or responding to your exact needs.

Learn to recognize the signs that I am becoming overtaxed, such as rocking, staring into space, looking very uncomfortable for no apparent reason, or appearing to ignore you. Recognize that, while I am ultimately responsible for taking care of my own needs, I require some personal space, time, and freedom in order to do that. Allowing me those things will make things more pleasant for everyone, I promise.

Realize that, while my social skills have improved greatly since I realized I was autistic, good social skills are something I have to actively work at. This does not mean you should let me get away with intentionally treating you badly, but do realize that when I say something that sounds rude or awkward, I often have no idea that it does. If I dislike or am angry with someone, I tend not to be subtle about it, so if my signals are unclear it's pretty safe to assume I am doing the best I can to be friendly and nice.

Realize that "tough love" can feel detrimental or abusive to an autistic person. We simply don't respond well to that kind of treatment, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that we tend to interpret things quite literally and cannot extrapolate loving intentions from apparently unloving behavior. Even if we *can* read your good intentions, you are probably just going to make us nervous and afraid of you.

To paraphrase Pat Parker, the first thing you do is to forget that I am autistic. Second, you must never forget that I am autistic. What this means is that I want to be perceived as a regular person with real and valid thoughts and feelings, just like anybody else, and I do not wish to be defined by a single aspect of who I am. But autism is also inseparable from me, it influences what I do, and if you wish to understand me, you need to be aware of it.

Find out why so many autistic people feel that people such as Jenny McCarthy, and organizations such as Cure Autism Now and Autism Speaks, do not speak for us and should not be allowed to. Do some research on your own and do not rely on me or other autistic people to educate you completely. I like talking about autism most of the time, but I am only human. I get burned out. I cannot be "on" all the time. Meet me halfway.

Finally, the most important thing you can do is to see me for no more and no less than what I am. Let go of the stereotypes about "lack of empathy" and math wizardry and "super male brains" and Rainman. Learn about autism from autistic people. Listen to our stories first, before the stories of the media and "experts" and well-meaning but misguided parents who just wish their babies were normal.


Where Can I Learn More?

Read anything you can by Temple Grandin, Tony Attwood, Valerie Paradiz, Liane Holliday-Willey, Jim Sinclair, Alyson Bradley, or any other author/advocate who is autistic or a trusted ally to autistic people.* See them speak, if you have the chance.

Read the forums at AsPlanet or Wrong Planet. Take the level of anger there with a grain of salt, as places where autistics gather tend to also serve as venting spaces, but do recognize that the anger and frustration are real and valid, even if it is occasionally based on misunderstanding.

Read at OASIS.

See Mozart and the Whale and try to appreciate the beauty in the couple's quirkiness. Keep in mind, however, that all movies are written for entertainment and thus tend to play into stereotypes. Take it as a story of how two individual autistic people could be, not as a documentary.


How Many Closets Do You Have, Anyway?

Oh baby, I've come out of so many closets Tyra Banks could fit her whole wardrobe and have space leftover. There are more, trust me. But this was a pretty dank one. I feel better now *grin*


*Note the prevalence of women in this list; the only man, Tony Attwood (Jim Sinclair is intersex and agendered) is an expert rather than an autistic person. A full discussion of the prevalence of autism among female-bodied persons is beyond the scope of this post, but suffice it to say that the oft-quoted three-to-one ratio of autistic boys vs. autistic girls is almost certainly vastly overestimated.

Blog Paralysis

I've realized it was probably kind of inconsiderate to post a scary, "I am in a downward spiral" post and then disappear for a month. Partly I didn't think about that because I forget that not all of my readers know me on Facebook (because if you know me there, you know I've been okay.) Partly I've just been out of the blogging "flow" because I'm in a weird transition period, where I'm staying at a friend's house temporarily and I'm not totally sure what's happening next. But I am safe, and I am fed, and I am much more emotionally stable than I was.

That's the good news. The bad news is that my non-blogging also has a darker cause. Because even though my last blog prompted mainly sweet, loving, wonderful responses that made me feel like I have about 20 moms and dozens of siblings (and to those who made me feel that way, THANK YOU so so much), there were also people who apparently thought little of me all along and tried to take advantage of my vulnerability. I am not writing this to point fingers or throw shade*. That's not the point here.

The point is that in blogging, and especially in the kind of earnest blogging that I need to do just as urgently as I need to breathe, that is always a danger. But the fact that this happened at a time when I was so fragile, and because it happened as a result of a post that I was terrified to write for exactly that reason, it shook me. I was in worse shape in the days following that post than I was when I wrote it, but this time I kept my mouth shut.

I have been writing all month. I have several things I'd like to post, most of them having little if anything to do with my personal life. Yet I've been experiencing a strange sort of blog paralysis. Every time I think of posting something, I can't go through with it. I am afraid things I say, things I may feel are totally innocent, will be used as further evidence of my failures and shortcomings by those who seek to harm or control me. So for a month now, I've let that fear paralyze me.

But I must write, and I must publish my writing in order for it to be useful and not remain a dead thing that cannot entertain or help anyone. So I'm trying to push forward anyway. Am I scared of what may happen? Of course. But I also know that the worst has happened - someone has read my blog and used it against me - and I have survived. I have written 170 posts on this blog and so far only one has resulted in anything bad happening, and even that post resulted in much, much more good than bad. I need to remember that. I can't let fear stop me from doing what I love.

*I realize I am probably far too white and unhip to use this phrase and be taken seriously, but I heard it on RuPaul's Drag Race and loved it. So nyeh.**

**This footnote is only here for the purpose of making you giggle*** at the end of a serious post.

***Two new nuns walk into a bar. One nun says to the other, "Hey, why are we still coming to bars, we're nuns now!" Second nun shrugs and says, "I dunno, force of habit?"****

****Badoom tish.

*****I probably should learn to use real footnotes because asterisks become really cumbersome after about two.

Rock Bottom

Note: This post is very long and very personal. If you are my friend, I am going to shamelessly beg that you read it all the way through. If you're just someone who stops by because you like my essays, however, you may wish to skip it. I'll be back to the regular writing soon, I hope.

I've recently become enamoured with the blog Hyperbole and a Half, by the very funny and inspiring Allie Brosh. One thing that immediately drew me to her blog, aside from the hilarity, was the fact that she is so open and honest about the troubles she has in life, with ADD, depression, unemployment, and major health and family issues. Two things have become immediately apparent to me from reading her blog:

1) I really want to be an at least semi-professional blogger, meaning I need to write more regularly, and

2) My creativity comes to a grinding halt if I am not being open and honest.

Unfortunately I have not been able to be open and honest since my mom died, because I have been too afraid of being a failure. Specifically, I am terrified that I will be the person someone points at when they say "unschooling can fail". This has been exacerbated by the recent media storm around unschooling. But since this blog is my main outlet for ideas, thoughts, and feelings, the result is that I start bottling shit up. And when I'm swimming around in my emotions that I can't let out, I sure as hell can't find a way to write about anything else. So I've got to let it out. Please, if you are stopping by to read this, take it only as a reflection of me, not my parents or how they raised me or how anyone else is raising their kids. I'm willing to own my failures, but I am not willing to own any derision cast upon others because of them.

For those who don't know what's been up with me, here's a recap of the last several months:

October: My mother has a heart attack, is in a coma for the longest week of my life, and then dies. I am left penniless, unemployed, and alone, in a house which I suddenly am now entirely responsible for. Lots of people are super nice to me and give me money and buy me groceries and let me show up at their houses unannounced just so I can cry.

November: People are still super nice and feeding me and taking me to Tennessee and stuff like that, even though I haven't managed to start up a job search yet.

December: I find a job at an hourly daycare center, but get fired, for unknown reasons, three days before Christmas. People are still super nice and give me Christmas presents and stuff.

January: I reach some kind of weird breaking point where I decide that it has been too long and I cannot ask other people for help anymore, because I have probably exhausted their patience and I don't deserve any help because I got fired. I spent most of the month in a dark stupor, brightened only by some friends visiting for a week in their RV.

February: I apply for several jobs that sound really good but don't hear a peep back from any of them. Instead I get a job at the mall but I am let go three days later because they are not getting enough business. This is about where I reach the point of "system failure" on my job search efforts. I also find out my dad is alive, which is more depressing than exciting, because it means he has not seen fit to contact me for three years.

March: I have a minor nervous breakdown at the Autodidact Symposium, which I make monumental efforts to hide because I don't want to ruin anyone's fun, so the only people who even know I'm upset are Maria and her kids. I become overwhelmed and terrified by the sheer volume of people there who are accomplishing amazing things while I am sitting in my house eating ramen and reading webcomics. On the way home I decide (this is something I had given thought to before) that I will go through with selling my house and purchasing an RV.

April: I run out of money and have no electricity except in a small shed which is on a separate light bill. I am basically rendered incapable of doing anything toward looking for a job so I just spend the whole month cutting down weeds, playing my DS, and eating baked beans that I have microwaved in my shed. I tell almost no one about my living situation out of sheer terror that people will think I am asking for money, because I do not want to be trouble for anyone. (It was not as bad of a month as it sounds like, though I desperately missed hot showers.)

May: My electricity is back thanks to a relative helping me out. I spend most of the month making house-selling and RV-purchasing plans and writing a shitload of blog posts. The problem here is that my month of solitude had slipped me into some sort of emotional fantasyland where I have lost touch with all reality and am capable only of thinking about the distant future, not my immediate needs. I become a bit delusional about how quickly I can pull all this off. I also become very irritable and lonely, because due to a car license tag fuckup I cannot leave my house for almost the entire month.

And here we are in June. I am almost out of money again, with no job prospects and the depressing realization that summer is rapidly slipping away and I have no idea how I can make it to NEUC, which at this point is the light at the end of my tunnel because I will get to see my friends and feel encouraged and loved again, and rediscover the joy of travel. I don't know what I'll do if that light gets put out. I have already been gradually sinking deeper into a pit of despair, losing interest in RVing and basically everything else as well. I spend all my time alone, partly to conserve gas and partly because I have convinced myself that the people who have given me money all secretly hate me now because they wasted it on a person who cannot get her shit together. My brain's response to this, rather than to helpfully stir up the energy I desperately need, is to start asking existential questions such as "Do I really believe in God?" and "What does it mean to be a woman?", which is the psychological equivalent of stepping real hard on the gas pedal when your tank gets close to empty. So I turn to books like Barbara Sher's Wishcraft and Patty Digh's Life is a Verb, hoping I can gather some strength from these. They are uplifting, but being uplifted a little while buried in a mile-deep hole still doesn't get you up on ground level.

And then I reach the point where I'm sitting alone in my dark, cold room during a thunderstorm, sobbing over this PostSecret and playing "Beautiful" by Eminem on loop and feeling even more stupid because now I am the sort of person who cries while listening to Eminem. And my dogs are whining because I ran out of dog food three days ago and haven't been able to drag myself to the store, so I've been feeding them cat food and leftover chicken and stuff, but now I'm out of cat food and people food too, and I'm a terrible person. And I start whining incoherently to Justy, and I try writing, and nothing is helping. And I'm hungry, and all the food left in the entire house is potatoes and canned tuna, and I feel like I want nothing more in the world than to go to the grocery store and spend all of my remaining money on ice cream and donuts and frozen pizza. (Please do not leave comments telling me why this is a bad idea. I am perfectly aware of that.) And I become aware that I must face my autism and the challenges it has always brought me which I depended on my mother to help me deal with, and the fact that piling depression on top of that is like trying to function with an elephant standing on my back. And I am hit in the face with the horrible realization I have been desperately avoiding all along:

I need help.

I don't mean that in the "I need counseling" sense; though it would probably be a good idea if I could afford it. What I mean is that I can't do this alone. I need people. If it means admitting I am almost 25 years old and still cannot function as an independent adult, then I must admit that. If it means risking being a burden and having everyone hate me, then I must risk that. Books will not save me. Encouraging websites will not save me. I need real people to help me. I have no idea what I need them to do, I just know I need them. Because my only alternative is to slip farther and farther into my own brain, until I become unable to leave my house or do anything except stare at the walls and wonder who I am. As comfortable as that sounds right now, I know it will not get me anywhere and I will end up hating myself even more.

I feel like a lost child who has wandered off from her mother in a department store, only her mother isn't ever, ever coming back. And I have no idea what to do any more than that child would. I only know that, whatever it is, I do not have the capacity to do it alone. . Throughout this entire time, I have been exceedingly proud of the fact that I have never directly asked anyone for help, instead waiting politely for help to be offered. Proud of the fact that I have kept up a cheerful facade and seldom let on that I was suffering. This, I now realize, is the reason I have not been able to move forward. I need to learn to admit to my pain. I need to learn how to ask for help.

I am hurting, and terrified, and alone. Please help me.

A Letter to My Teenage Self

Dear Bonnie,

Hi! I don't want to alarm you, but this is you from the future. No, I'm not here to warn you about nuclear war or anything like that, so just keep your shorts on. I know you've just dropped out of school and church, and you're scared and wondering if you've made the right decision. This is probably the last point at which you'd want to get a letter from the future, because you think I'm going to nag you about the importance of a good education and the importance of church and how I desperately regret dropping out of both.

If that's what you're thinking, you are absolutely wrong.

Leaving that oppressive hellhole is the best thing you will ever do. In fact, you're going to be tempted, in a few months, to go back, but don't do it. Complete waste of time - you'll leave again after like a month, because the same old problems will come back. Stay home and focus on your friends and your family. You will, as you already suspect, learn more from your computer than you ever did in school. And you'll have absolutely no trouble going to college - if you truly want to. If you need to mourn for the prom, go ahead - but know that most people's memories of prom aren't actually all that special, and you're probably not missing much. It's just a carrot held out to keep you running toward the end of high school. You will have plenty of opportunities for dressing up and dancing throughout your life.

As for friends: You know those girls you hang out with at school, the ones who didn't give a shit when you came back after being out sick for a month? I want you to listen very closely to what I am about to say: Fuck. Them. You heard me. Fuck 'em. You don't need them, they never liked you for who you really are, just as you've always suspected. Cry if you need to, mourn for all the time you wasted sucking up to them and for the comforting illusion of friendship that has now been shattered. But don't look back. You're not losing much.

Now that I've just about broken your heart, let me put it back together. Those people you're chatting with online, wasting time dicking around on a Pokemon forum? They LOVE YOU. Or at least, they will love you. It sounds strange now, and it goes against everything you've ever been told about having a social life, but I promise you these are the people you need to hang onto. That gut feeling that these are "your people" is not a mistake. A certain few of them may be your friends forever - but they will ALL impact your life in ways you cannot now imagine, and it will all be for the better. And you will, as you grow up and are able to go and explore the world, find even *more* friends. More than you will know what to do with, even, and they'll all love you *because* of how weird and crazy you are, not in spite of it.

Listen to your body. This mono thing is going to come back. You're going to have all kinds of bullshit with your ovaries, too, and your blood sugar. Just relax and try to take care of yourself. Hating yourself for not being as productive as other people isn't going to make you more productive; it will only take away what little energy you have left for doing good in the world. Be gentle with yourself.

Also, let me go ahead and save you years of confusion: Liking long-haired pretty boys doesn't make you a lesbian. They're boys. You do like girls, too, though. You're pretty queer. Be proud of that, even if it isn't safe to tell anyone in meatspace yet. Tell your online friends. They won't mind one bit. And get your ass to the queer youth center as soon as you can drive. You'll be glad you did.

On a related note, getting out of that church was a good move, too. Have fun playing around and learning about different religions, but don't take them too seriously, and don't let them convince you of anything your heart knows not to be true. If a religion is making you *less* of a good person, something is wrong.

Wear whatever the fuck you want. Do you actually like those too-tight Wet Seal prissy clothes, or are they just what you think will make boys like you? Pro tip: There are no clothes that will make boys like you, at least not the kind of boys that are worth it. Any boyfriend or girlfriend (or plain ol' friend) worth their salt will love you in band t-shirts and baggy jeans and ridiculous, Boy George-esque makeup, and black nail polish, and whatever silly thing you felt like doing to your hair this week. (This also goes for whatever music, TV, etc. you like. Be yourself.) Keep playing dressup - the friend who teasingly called you a "freak" for doing so is going to be your best friend in the world in a few years, and she doesn't actually care what you do in your spare time.

Some more about dating: Don't be afraid to get your heart broken, but when it inevitably happens, remember it's not the end of the world. That person you like right now may seem amazing to you, but they are not the only person you will ever have a chance with. As for sex, it really is as great as you think it's going to be, but only if you're doing it with someone you trust and feel comfortable with. Otherwise it's just an awkward mess that makes you feel embarrassed the next day. And yes, condoms matter as much as people say they do.

You are absolutely 100% right in your attitude about work and school: They are NOT all there is to life. You might want to write that fact down, carry it in your pocket, tattoo it on your arm so you can't forget even when everyone is telling you otherwise. Life is about trees and friendship and weird foreign food and strange music and bright colors and incense and thunderstorms. "When you grow up, your heart dies" is only true if you allow it to be. Do. What. You. Want. It's not at all selfish to fill your own happy-tank in order to have joy to share with others. If you're sitting in the dark, you cannot cast light on anyone else. As corny as it sounds, your heart is going to lead you to great things. Follow it.

Having given you a (hopefully encouraging) glimpse into the future, let me ask one small favor of you in return. Go give out some hugs. Hug Mama, hug Nannie, hug Aunt Evelyn, hug everyone in your life even if they piss you off sometimes. You'll miss them one day. I'll spare you from the mental torment of knowing when, but it will be sooner than you ever expected. Visiting a nursing home is depressing, but not as much as knowing you'll never see someone again.

And, last of all? Never, ever stop watching cartoons just because you think you've gotten too old.

P.S. - Yeah, you do grow up to be someone who uses phrases like "worth their salt" and "meatspace." Sorry about that. If it makes you feel any better, your vocabulary also includes a remarkable number of variations on the word "dick", including some most people haven't heard of before. You'll have some fun with that.

Happy Things

With all the stressing I've been doing lately over moving, and money, and the state of the world, and the fact that I can't go to SMUG and I miss my friends, and the way unschoolers are being exploited by the media, it occurs to me that I haven't had much fun lately! I want to lighten up, and I want to add a bit of levity to my blog in between serious posts (since I have another of those in the works), so I thought I'd write up a little list of things that always cheer me up.

In no particular order:

• My friends
• My cats
• My dogs
• Silly packing tape with Rosie the Riveter on it
• Hula hooping
• Unschooling blogs
• Chinese food
• Barenaked Ladies
• They Might Be Giants
• George Winston
• Little white Christmas lights I leave up all year
• Sparkly nail polish
• Wil Wheaton and James Urbaniak on Twitter
• Dinosaur Comics
• My Cabbage Patch Kid that for some reason smells consistently like cookies even after spending 10+ years in a musty closet
• Knowing that NEUC is in less than three months
• Twirly skirts
• Dan Brown (of Youtube fame, not that Dan Brown)
• Star Trek
• My CD of theme songs from 80s and 90s kid shows
• Fresh homemade bread
• TV Tropes
• Little kids
• Fruity candy
• Dave Barry
• Jon Stewart
• Incense
• Blog comments (hint ;))
• My rainbow bracelet my friend in Australia made me
• My rainbow charm bracelet and earrings that I made at Maria's house with Shrinky Dinks
• Thunderstorms (unless they knock out my power)
• Old Simpsons reruns
• Playground swings
• Dry-erase boards
• Mr. Bubble

There. I feel lighter and fluffier already! Is some of that stuff totally childish? Sure! Do I care? Heck no! Growing up is for suckers and sad people. And doo-doo-heads.

Friday Fill-In

Some fluff now, 'cause I'm tired of ranting and you're tired of me ranting.

1. Atlanta, Arizona and Massachusetts is are my favorite place(s) to travel to. That I've been so far.
2. When I think about my childhood, I often remember playing games with my grandfather, even though he was stuck in bed.
3. Peace, love and understanding makes for a good friend.
4. The wind in the trees, the rain on my skin, gives me sensory overload. (I like the wind and rain, but from inside the house.)
5. Travel is so exciting!
6. My best friend knows how to castrate moths. (Really.)
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to watching a movie or something, tomorrow my plans include chillin and Sunday, I want to bake bread! (Because I like doing domestic things on Sunday, for some reason.)

Standards

"You can't shake the devil's hand and say you're only kidding."

-They Might Be Giants, "Your Racist Friend"

Yesterday, I posted this on Facebook, setting my status so that only my "unschoolers" group could see:

"A simultaneously fortunate and unfortunate side effect of being around unschoolers is that you begin to have much higher standards for how people should behave and treat each other. It's good because you put up with less crap and are more careful with your own actions, but hard when you become increasingly uncomfortable around people you used to get along great with :/"

Immediately, many people said they knew the feeling.

Now, the only reason I'm elevating "unschoolers" above anyone else is because the kinds of behaviors I find abhorrent are far, far less common in the unschooling community than they are among other groups I'm part of, and because even though I have always been a tolerant, diversity-loving person, it is unschoolers who have truly taught me how to accept people warts and all. Ah, but there's the rub: Does "tolerance" mean tolerating intolerance? Does "warts and all" mean you put up with people whose main flaw is that they are unkind?

Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm expecting too much of people, if I should be more accepting of people the way they are, knowing that I've probably done stupid things too without realizing how bad they seemed. But how do you stay friends with someone who thinks it's funny to scream and gag when they see a large woman walking her dog? Or someone who, after years of championing LGBT rights, maliciously calls someone a faggot and starts throwing around the word "tranny" even though she knows better? How about someone who used to be your good friend but you've realized she wouldn't be if you were a different color? Someone who laughs when you tell them your grandmother's "what I was doing when Pearl Harbor was bombed" story, then thinks you're silly for getting mad? These are all real examples from real friends in my recent life.

Now, lest it sound like I just hang out with really horrible people, I also have a lot of really beautiful amazing wonderful people who would sooner cut off their own arms than say any of this stuff, and of course not all of those people are unschoolers. But see, that's the thing: All of the people who said and did those horrible things had previously seemed like better people than that. I expected better of them. And that's why it hurt so much, and disappointed me so deeply, to see them act that way. I like to believe people are good, and I like to look for the good in people. But I can't deal with this kind of negativity in my life, nor do I think I should.

I don't have any answers for this. I don't know how to handle it. I don't want to be the kind of person who just cuts people off when they don't live up to my standards, nor the kind of person who is all serious business and can't take a joke. Some jokes shouldn't be taken, though. Some friends shouldn't be had. And if I implicitly support the people who do these kinds of things, then I'm also hurting my other friends. It hurts my plus-size friends if I don't speak out against fat hate. It hurts my gay and trans friends if I put up with homophobia and transphobia. It hurts my black, Latino, and Asian friends when I'm silent against racism and xenophobia. It hurts my Muslim, Jewish, Christian and pagan friends when I am silent against people who disparage them. It hurts children when I tolerate people being mean to their kids.

How do you guys handle this kind of thing? How do you balance between standing up for what's right and being diplomatic? Where do you draw the line between something you can overlook and something you can't tolerate? I'm really stuck for ideas, so I'd appreciate any that anyone has.