What I said vs What You Heard

The theme for this post has been a long time brewing, but the launching off point today comes from a conversation with Kaelan Rhywiol (updated website here), a dear friend, and amazing Erotica writer. Our conversation arose when she asked my opinion on ablest language. My out of context reply was

Nash: depends on the sitch. Context is the only time I usually get my back up.
When it comes to myself, I quite often refer to myself as a cripple or a gymp. I call my cane my cripple stick, etc

 She went on to clarify

Rhywiol: In particular I'm wondering about words like stupid, dumb, etc... saw a post saying they were ablist and not to use them... but how the fuck... if we as writers choose not to use every word with negative connotations we'll soon have no words to use at all? True?

To which I had to say 

Nash: Everyone has their own, often obscure, trigger words. The day I let other ppl's perceptions make me second guess every use of every word is the day I quit the internet. *shrugs*
I think it is good practice to prevent structuring a post that may sound targeted. But use whatever lingo you feel like.

For Kaelan, the struggle stems from the knowledge that as an author and (gasp!) public internet presence, and as someone who has been tortured for the very truth of her very self, she understands, deeply, how words can harm. She would never knowingly choose to harm someone with the words she uses, but at the same time, she's a writer, an entertainer and tries to support her followers (who tend to be one variety of her own type of person or another.) On top of that, she has a professional image to craft and much as writing is a calling and enjoyment, it's also a business. The last thing she, or anyone in that position wants, is to accidentally say something to make fans feel marginalized. Especially when she's so experienced in feeling marginalized herself.

There are going to be times when you've caused some hurt feelings, yes. But there has to be a limit to the amount we police ourselves, or we risk developing at best, a complex, at worst, an ulcer. I am not above admitting that negative feedback describing me as a bigot of one form or another have caused me a great deal of personal anguish over the years.

At the end of the day, I police myself by the following concepts

1- You cannot control how others react to you, only how you react to them.

2- Something said as a generalization, while not meant as a targeted statement, has the potential to ruffle feathers. Each of us must weigh the risk vs. reward of the possible fall out.

3- It's taken me the better part of 3 decades to find the courage to HAVE a public voice. I, personally, will not allow those who choose to skew my meaning or twist my words, to silence that voice.

4- Some ppl are capital V-Victims. No matter how much you attempt to convey compassion, your words will not be welcome.

So, in closing, I'll tell you what I tell anyone who asks me about what and how they write. "Write for you first, the people you're writing to/for second, and the world at large not at all. Not everyone's opinion matters."

Snapshot of My Mental Not-So-Merri-Go-Round

Where to start.

Still getting used to how the world around me feels without any meds whatsoever. That's no perscription pain killers, no anti anxiety meds, no depression meds. Let me tell you, its not as much fun as it sounds.

I've always had a Hulk like temper when my long fuse finally burns out. For the first little while, that fuse was exceptionally shorter. I've gotten back a fair bit of my thick skin, so I can at least flip through social media without either immediately table flipping or dissolving into tears. But when something finally wedges under my skin, I still have no happy medium. Rage or Despair appear to be my only levels of 'affected'.

Any time I lose my temper, I feel like a failure. I worry that I'm being vilified, whether or not I deserve it this time.

And let's not forget the ridiculous back and forth malarkey from my medical team. The Head Dr's I'd been dealing with of late lack some serious bedside manners. For ppl who's job it is to listen for a living, their listening skills SUCK!

"So what is it that you want from us?" Guys. srsly. I tried to kill myself. Pretty sure it's more or less mandatory that I now talk to someone about that, What do you think????

And then there is the fact that the Dr's are not only disagreeing about my mental diagnosis, but also what meds to take. "Well you should be taking this because, and they nvr should have put you on that because...." I am trying not to blame anyone, but it seems that the particular cocktail they had me taking before may very well have contributed to my incident in March. Thanks so much for considering that before you added yet another scrip that can potentially cause/aggravate depression.

I've read a hundred blogs that talk about Dr's prescribing or over prescribing. I do my very best to be my own advocate when it comes to knowing about my illness, my history, and my list of meds. But come on guys, one of the primary reasons I quit my job is because my cognitive abilities are affected. I can barely do my own thinking, never mind do your thinking for you.

I miss the old me. The Me who had the self confidence to be an active sex worker and sw advocate. Hell, the Me that had the ability to be an anything advocate! I can barely stand up for myself when someone steps on a nerve, these days. I either feel like I'm over reacting, or that I don't matter. Or worse yet, I get negative feed back and crumbling into a blubbering pile of self doubt. That is so not the Me I've spend decades becoming.

Oh wow. Talk about a msg from the universe. Eminem's Beautiful just came on....

My biggest challenge right now, staying true to me.

I so badly want to shout from the rooftops about what I'm going through, because I don't want anyone to ever feel like they are alone. But it hurts. It hurts to admit that I'm broken. It hurts to be broken. It hurts to face the world while I'm broken....

That's enough for now. I'm going to go crawl inside the head of one of my fictional characters, either play a video game or do some writing.

Blessed Be.