Revitalizing Sensory Magic In A Season Of Struggle; Back to BEING Seen.

It had been five years since we had crossed the floor of the establishment. The wooshing of the door swept us into the Diner while rock music played and the smell of delicious spices filled the air. Abe's was a locally owned and operated celiac friendly diner with superior food choices. We used to head towards the mountains often with our family of five, and Abe's gave us a sense of food safety, cheery dialogue and delicious delight.

After we ordered our Gluten free brownie for our appetizer and our burgers for the main course, we soon found the owner, Louis, at our table with an exuberant, "I KNEW it was you! As soon as I heard the order for a brownie first, I thought, these are my people, the interesting ones who eat dessert first always, even with younger kids!" We caught up with him and it felt like we were still five years younger, as if no time had passed at all, and we were still considered unique enough for an owner to remember us. 

I had been struggling with age related changes; new wrinkles, crinkled skin around the elbows, translucent older hands, eye puffiness and feeling the creak of new pains and chronic illness related aging. I was feeling a bit too old for this world, washed out, irrelevant, with all the large moments behind me. (I know it's maybe laughable for those older than me, but approaching forty with chronic illness has not been a picnic either within this new transition, after three months of varied sickness and a semi bedridden state. I knew I should feel so grateful for all that I have, but the new step into a different phase of life was still a transition I was coming to terms with.) 

Louis excitement and genuine interest in us, made us feel a bit hip (if that is a word that is even used anymore!) or at least, memorable. Buffered by his statements, I felt revitalized. Which triggered a question to myself, "What little moments in daily life can you notice to revitalize the magic of BEING?"

Sensory is both my magic and my hardship. Isn't that the way life tends to go? Each moment can be used for good or ill. Bad things can be transformed or redeemed. Goodness can become corrupt or perverted. Life is BOTH/ AND. But sometimes, I can focus my lens too much on what I am doing wrong or all the new lines and bags of my skin, and forget to look into the beauty both around me and in me. This body may not work at optimal and trigger me into phases where I do not feel like my full self, but it is also my vessel in this world. I smile, hug, love and write with this precious vessel of imperfection. Using my senses, I can choose to hold into perspective, the sensory around my day, that gives LIFE.

So, in that vein of thought, without further ado, the moments I have taken notice of since Louis triggered me back into BEING:

* A Million Dreams soaked into the walls as my son gracefully played the tune from the piano in his room. At least once a day, he will sit, sometimes for hours at a time, and just play his heart out. Minutes later, my home is echoing with remnants and reverberations of rhythm and soul. Our company will ask, "Who is playing? That is so beautiful." My heart will swell with joy, that my son, who could never attend piano lessons, attends to the joy in his expression and becomes one with the music.

* Silence and the quiet evening hush is often interrupted by the tiny chomping noises down the hall. It is my cat eating his food at night. It sounds like someone eating corn pops. I will often smile and get tingles of memories from holidaying as a child and eating out of the mini boxed corn pop containers with a dollop of poured milk inside. That sound has tones of water lapping from lakeside days, and towel scratching sun soaked afternoons. Often most of the house is already snoozing, but the cat and I are awake, visiting moments of satisfaction; His in nurturance of the body and mine in nurturance of mindful memories.

* Witnessing my name in an a published book and having a little blurb in another chapter! Thanks Jenna and Jennifer for this amazing opportunity and friendship! LINK HERE. I am going to hopefully gobble up this book this weekend! Woot. I am just so ecstatic for Jenna and Jennifer!

* In the midst of catching up with a friend I had not seen in over four years, the conversation was swiftly changed when she remarked, "Oh, how lovely! I have not heard that sound in such a long time. I absolutely love your husband's laugh. It's so full of joy. You do not get to hear that sound much but it makes my heart happy." I felt proud and happy that my husband not only is admired in his hearty laughter by me, but gets the deserved notice from others and they in turn find some joy.

* The burnt smell of glue gun greeted me as I walked into my eldest son's room as he was creatively making stop motion pieces. My mind stuttered out of the to do list I was compiling in my head and flowed into awe at how brilliant his actions in life can be. (Picture above is his requested Punk birthday we did on the fly!)

* My daughter's laugh is loud in the best possible way. I can hear her joy from across the house. I recently read a quote that stated; "You are so much sunshine to square inch." Walt Whitman. Of course, I sent it to my daughter because it summed her up in a nutshell. She has so many strong emotions, that often I need to step back for a moment to gather my bearings, but sometimes, I forget to just allow the beauty of them to BE different from me.

* My eyes were craving green. In the past I had not had success with green in rooms. Being partial to emerald green, but having darker light, I needed to find a green that filled my constant craving for depth in colour ( I tend to shy away from any cold colour as paint in my home) without being drowned in tones of grey or lime. I woke up one morning deciding to change a few pieces of furniture, but we ended up clearing most of a wall, so I thought, why not try painting green while I'm at it? In one afternoon and evening, I had painted three coats of a colour I randomly picked online called Evergreens, after phoning into my local store, charging it to my convenient hubby's carpenter account, and hoping it worked in my house. (Not the smartest idea but I was in one of my "mad creative moods where there is no reasoning" as my husband likes to describe it as.) I briefly mudded, and put the entire kitchen back to a new arrangement. My dining/ kitchen is my trickiest space in my house due to the multiple pathways and as the Genie in Aladdin states, "Itty, bitty living space." I had always wanted to bring a lounging chair into the kitchen. My husband thought it was unrealistic and slightly indulgent but in the end I won. While not my favourite green, the colour chosen, wasn't icky either, and evokes a feeling of freshness I do not fully get in the rest of my home. I read once that people tend to be the most opposed in their feelings towards green in the home. For myself, this time, I am loving the new beginnings it begets.

* Bella Grace click  (And their other publication The Field Guide to Magic which is tough to find here in Canada) is my occasional money indulgence. Sometimes I cringe at the amount I am spending on a magazine which could go toward bills or groceries, but each time I can afford the splurge, it is worth the extra pennies. (I guess I am aging myself in my phrases!) Recently I cozied up on the kitchen lounger I had moved from a room downstairs and read to my husband while he cooked up savoury chili. The aroma  of garlic accompanied my voice, as I choked back tears at some of the beautiful words in each article I traversed. My husband would give an occasional thought or chuckle or vocal "hmmmm" and I realized, I did not just invest in a magazine, I invested in a moment, a marriage, an inspiration and a delight.

*My youngest stopped to kiss my forehead as he does each time he enters or leaves any room I am in. This time, as he departed, a mischievous grin crept upon his face as he stated in a deep voice, "And now I must go, I have smart things to do and handsome mirrors to meet. Goodbye fair maiden." And as usual he left me with cheery mirth as my companion. I love hearing his brother and him chuckle and whisper on their almost nightly sleepovers exchanging mattresses in each room.

*Lisette is a mystic, astronomer and guide I met this year who lives on the bottom of my continent while I live near the top. Not being on social media, it is a bit odd that we recently connected. We had a mutual friend who had stated to each of us that we would like each other and simply had to meet. Dear Amy, set up an appointment through Zoom for us. What was supposed to be a half hour official appointment ended up being a four hour chat and an exchange in our talents instead. Both Lisette and Amy had heard about the unusual death of my brother in law in the Autumn and wanted to give support. Lisette told me that due to my Scorpio nature, the next few months would be reliant on friends and family for wage. Frankly, I dreaded that and was hoping it wasn't entirely accurate, but as these things go, it was not in the way I assumed. My husband, a carpenter, ended up getting work, project to project, based on people we knew from that moment onward. I love it when the messages of love, spirit, temperament, environment and personality open up to the dialogue and flow of life. On Friday I get to connect again. In the meantime, Amy, our mutual friend has been editing another project I have in my creative fires, and has given me much to ponder, appreciate, savour and be thankful for. Free time given from a friend is so valuable.

*The times that I have gone up in size, I usually DREAD or try to avoid shopping for bigger clothes. I tell myself it's temporary and to not get comfortable. The problem with this mentality is that I am not only uncomfortable but constantly cranky from tight pants and restrictive fits. Luckily, I re wardrobe our entire family at a consignment store called Platos Closet. We have not bought new items in over a decade unless it is of the personal nature. Thus, wardrobe changes are often fairly cheap. My weight fluctuates regularly, seasonally and in chronic illness phases. I range from a size 6 (the smallest I personally have ever been) to a size 12. Generally I feel my best at a size 7/8. Knowing this, I usually keep clothes from every size, but last Spring I went from a 12 to 7 in three months, and never wanting to go back, I got rid of most of my clothes in hopes of prevention. Gah. I annoy myself. Anyway, my husband took me last month to buy a few fitting outfits in the size 10 I find myself in. I almost cried at the cute outfits that would not fit, and the reflection of the ones that did...but the silver lining was a moment when I saw the employees, some of whom were double my size, rocking outfits and looking far more beautiful than I felt. Suddenly, I took off my sizest lens. I thought, "Hey, at home I may be surrounded by only skinny friends and be the largest one, but out in the world, it's a range...and these girls are incredibly beautiful. Skinny does not mean successful. Skinny does not mean altogether perfect. Skinny does not mean that I am worthy. Cellulite should not define me. It does not mean I do not make wise choices in food or am lazy. It does not mean I have completely fallen off the bandwagon of health." And just like that, my perspective changed to the statement, "I GET to buy new clothes" instead of "I HAVE to buy new clothes." I will probably be writing about this again, as it is my ever struggle, but for now, as I strive on the treadmill and hope for a bit of loss, I am reminding myself not to live in "if only."

*My sister crafted a Gluten free high tea that tasted better than the posh Banff Springs Hotel High Tea. I love freely roaming Banff Springs, but they have nothing on my sister's creations! Holding the little cucumber sandwiches and tasting the delightful orange meringues, my tongue sizzled with sweet and savoury sensory satisfaction.

* Since November we have had a month and half long Influenza, followed a few weeks later by our family getting Covid. My husband had missed a bit of work. I missed three full holidays. It had been three years since we had experienced even a cold ( as far as contagious illness goes! So I supposed it was our turn.) A friend recently learned of a myriad of inner struggles we have had since, and gifted us with a gift card to Costco. I choked up a bit as I struggle with taking and not giving immediately back, but also with the lovely words she accompanied with her gifting. Our fridge was almost empty and I had been creatively serving whatever I had when company came calling. Popcorn and tea mostly topped the list. I also like to show up to people in need or whom are grieving in our community, so often my gifts are from my own pantry, home decor, or gift box I keep with collected discount items for such occasions. We have been semi- rich and we have been semi-poor. I don't think, from the outside looking in, that most people can tell which seasons we are in, with the house the way it is, and the lucky lifestyle we have. What I love about the poor moments, is that they taught me how to be savvy. Even in our richer states, I don't buy new clothes, I still buy on discount or sale or wholesale, and I thrift often. I apply for suiting programs I hear about when I can. I enlist extended family on hunts. Recently, my father knew we were driving the entire winter with bald tires on our one shared vehicle (a van my husband also uses for work. In a rural area that can get to weeks of -20- -30 Celsius vehicles are a MUST and the crazy fuel prices have been incredibly restrictive. ) My dad knew this because we would borrow mom's vehicle at the beginning of the month for our Costco city trip. Thus, he searched, and yesterday we fit our (new to us) cheap winter tires on our vehicle almost in time for Spring. Which means we will definitely be driving on them this summer, but oh how lucky and free we feel to be able to drive out of town without asking our parents permission. Ha!

*Shimmering specks float off our frost covered trees. The dreary fog plays an accompanied symphony on the background of the canvas. I live for sunshine but sun moments can still be found. There is something beautiful to a repressed landscape covered in crystal, snowy white as far as the eye can see. The air is heavy with condensation. Chilled, the fireplaces turn on, the Earl Gray Cream tea is brewed, and globs of raw honey are consumed. These are the days for writing. These are the days for wordy bliss and speculative imaginings. These are the days for transfiguring womb time.

In complete honesty, most of my regular readers probably already notice that I tend to take less pictures in seasons of weight and chronic illness struggle. I am trying to be more active about savouring the good so I have included the few I have taken here. Spring is around the corner. I can feel the hopeful awakening. The earth is getting ready with new shoots under the surface of ice. New beginnings are gestating. Womb time is almost over and the re birth is ready to give, become, and grow. I anticipate, while also reminding myself about the beauty of the remnants in late winter. Cushioning, comfort, weighted belonging, tea and book studies, and blanketed movie nights are wonders too. Whispered conversations with High School besties about vulnerable and intimate topics, just in case a teen ear may be trying to listen, can be just as satisfying as exuberant laughter and raucous joy.

This was our today … 

Whatever season you are in literally and figuratively, remind yourself of the simple daily pleasures. Remind yourself that it's ok to BE. You are worthy and worth love simply because you exist.

Love;

Note: My ordinary  struggles tend to surround chronic and contagious illness and go hand in hand with mental dips into depression ( influenced also by autistic sensory issues) , existential crisis ( this time aging) and marital issues when both of us have been sick for months and our relationship was not fully up to par. I want to state that I have enjoyed a beautiful existence otherwise, with many, many incredible friendship moments and I KNOW I have a lot. However, that does not negate the true gritty struggle of balancing a condition with recovery of contagious illnesses on top, plus the mental spiral that is real and legitimate. I have not been at my best. But I have hope for another version of myself to emerge from this frazzled cocoon. 

Song Choice: 

Nicole Mullen and Kathie Lee Gifford created a ten-minute narrative song called The God Who Sees. When I first heard it, I wept. For the next month it was the soundtrack for my treadmill sessions, when I was worried in bed, or on a drive. My family would tease, “I heard mom this morning singing and crying on the treadmill…no wonder she was out of breath later!” The song opens with the biblical story of Hagar and then Nicole begins to sing, “She’s crying in the desert, she’s lost in her despair. She thinks nobody loves her. Hagar thinks nobodies there. But God says, ‘I will be a ring of fire around her, and I will be the glory in her midst. And the power of my presence will bring her to her knees, and I will lift her up again, for I’m the God who sees.” In the music video, near the end, a ring of burning fire, in a setting in Jerusalem, surrounds Nicole. It was both what I would call ‘witchy’ but also incredibly sacred and full of God. The image of God being a ring of fire around me both humbled and empowered my perspective of life. “She’s hoping for a future, praying God will lead her there…” I often wonder if I have more moments left for my future. I have had a beautiful, full existence, but nearing forty, I have often felt I had all the “big” moments already. “David thinks his life is over, and God he doesn’t care. But God says, ‘I will be the rock of your salvation. I’ll hold you up by the strength of my right hand. And the power of my Spirit will free you from your fear. In the hour of your deepest need, you’ll find that I am near. I am here. Because I will be the ring of fire around you. I will be the glory in your midst. And the power of my presence will bring you to your knees, and I will lift you up again for I’m the God who sees.” My spirit felt validated. If David felt that way, and his heart was after God, it was ok for me to feel that way too. Of course, I did not have to hide in the desert from my own son (that would be an ultimate low) but I had my own struggles. I, like Hagar, often hope for a future while also wondering and questioning my worth for such a thing. “She’s crying in the garden. She’s broken in despair. She’s searching for her saviour, but his body isn’t there. Then He says, ‘Mary, glory, glory, halleluiah, I will be the glory in your midst. And every knee will bow to me and every tongue confess, and yes all the world will worship me in all my holiness. And I will be the ring of fire around you and I will be the glory in your midst. And the power of my presence will bring you to your knees, and I will lift you up again for I’m the God who sees…who sees you in your wilderness, sees you in your brokenness, when you’re feeling lonely, in the desert places, in your empty spaces, I’m nearer then you dare believe. Here in the very air you breathe. I am the God who sees You.’”

LINK HERE.

Song choice: pretty/ un pretty - glee 

An Analogy of My Experience in the Autism Community for Political Movements. Rhetoric - is it Justice? Is it Inclusion? "Social Justice" and the Context of Intent.

"There does come a point (when a seeker) has so much information- we have read so many books and heard so many opinions- that we have to turn away from more knowledge and sift through what we have gathered. Away from the opinions and judgements of others, in a place where we feel safe and at ease, we need to examine each idea, belief and practice and measure it against our own soul. Those that resonate and feel right we keep and synthesize into our belief system. Those that do not we respectfully put away from us. Not everything is for everybody. We all have our own unique path. It is up to us to find it." Barbara Moore

I have been nurturing my path. This is a bit of context to why I do not hop on many trends, social justice movements, or get involved with current rhetoric. That is not to say that some of these things will not be noble and true for others. We each must weigh our knowledge against our experiences, contexts and souls.   

Years ago when I got diagnosed with Autism ( Aspergers Syndrome at the time)  I was immersed quickly into a new community. At first it was inclusive and I found forever friends and a place I belonged. The years went by and one day, I found my blog being unfollowed by many Autistics. It was only recently that I found out that the main reason was because I still often used the terms I was diagnosed with.  "Aspergers Syndrome" and "Aspie." I tried to use Autistic more often but "Aspie" had become a term of endearment to myself and my son who had grown up with it as a nickname since he was a toddler. As a teen he still loved it. 

My friend Sam addresses this travesty in THIS (CLICK) post;
"I have been rejected as a speaker at some autistic-run conferences, even as I had stronger credentials and proposals than the other speakers, based again on the name of my book. (I don’t mind anymore, there are many other conferences. Just a sad fact.) Several autistic advocates have been forced or bullied to change the name of their website, company, or community social media page because it contained the word Asperger(s) or Aspie or some other word that implied , even made up words! Some well-meaning autistic individuals (or Aspies) have turned away from helping others because of the continual debating, shaming, and anger over the name they call themselves. Others have left a community that they were led to believe was built on support and inclusion."

In the last five years, I have been corrected, as an autistic, for not using the right terms for MYSELF like a capital or following with “person“ after autistic. I was challenged BY other Autistics for not talking about neurodiversity or ableism properly. I was told I was ableist a few times, Me- who struggles being capable on a daily level in many ways due to executive functioning and sensory issues! Not only was this hurtful but it didn't feel like the inclusive place I originally joined. Other times it was by well meaning "advocates" or parents of Autistics who were not autistic themselves but knew all the autistic jargon and were “advocating” *for* me and *AT* me. They made me feel confused.

There was even division of the “ scale of autism” where mostly non autistics, parents and “educators” judged the verbal and non verbal and put them in the categories of “high functioning” and “low functioning." Luckily, there were articles written on that proving that low functioning in one circumstance like a non verbal confined to a wheel chair was high functioning in another (when they used their device to write epic stories.) Or on a simpler level - when a person can be both high functioning and low functioning on the same day and it renders it moot. CLICK HERE for a quick article on the topic (the best I've read. A MUST for anyone advocating for Autism.) I don’t think it’s the actual experience to be so literally black or white about it in both autism or skin colour or any other difference. Because on the scale, in their own context, each person has different treatment. Many experience trauma in different ways. Some also experience love on different levels. 

I was “educated” by some (and self educated quickly there after) on the jargon. I tried to use the "correct terms" often for a few years. I fought hard. I called myself an advocate. I was immersed in the jargon and even expected friends and family to use it with the misplaced idea that the correct dialogue was what made them truly love, understand and respect me. But then I realized that the INTENT of words is completely separate from the "appropriate" words. Many words that are used for social justice as "noble" or in place of "dubious history" are also monetized. 

As Sam writes HERE (CLICK for the amazing full article): "For the record, DSM-V, the ‘Physicians Bible’ that created the ‘newer’ autism spectrum diagnosis, is largely backed by special interest groups with financial gain at heart, particularly pharmaceutical and health insurance companies, who are known for their greed and ill treatment of citizens and have victimize millions. The diagnosis criteria of Aspergers transitioning to the umbrella spectrum disorder was not changed for pure-at-heart reasons. It was changed primarily to assist in filling the deep-pocketed big businesses. Many word origins are rooted in tainted soil. In addition, Dr. Asperger is partially credited for laying the foundation for ‘autism’ conditions." (In the article she also addresses Dr. Aspergers "Nazi connections." I have found this particular accusation being thrown around in other places casually for anyone who is in disagreement with radical leftists. When you dig deeper in research done with neutrality or find the truth between both sides, often (sometimes it is valid) what is found is speculation at best and word twisting for an agenda at worst.)

A couple years into my Autism / Aspergers journey, I learned that the widely funded and accepted group “ autism speaks” was actually quite damaging to most autistics in the name of helping and tolerance. Many autistics who could verbalize in writing wrote against it. Often parents of autistics supported it. There were numerous reasons I felt uncomfortable with the motives and portrayals of autistic people from the organization that was supposed to be speaking FOR us. Phrases like “Autistics matter” just brought home the narrative to me that, “Wait did we not matter before?” I knew my wiring had caused some issues around reciprocity and love. But constantly telling me phrases like that made me feel LESS like I belonged. People jumped on the bandwagon because they thought it was helping or that they were nobly on the “right side of history.” Articles citing vaccinations as causing autism and fear mongering were passed on. Which made myself and my children feel like a disease to be eradicated. Articles celebrating ABA therapy (which some autistics stand behind but many found abusive) were tried by loving parents because it sounded like the right thing to do. 

At that stage I definitely did not want to be autistic. Why would I want to be or celebrate my differences, when the very people who were supposed to be "speaking up for me"  were telling me how different I was and re enforcing my wounds and the history of autism at me all the time even if it wasn’t ALL my exact experience?  Had I not been loved solely because of autism? That dialogue got in my head and made me feel even more of a minority. I admit to a darker stage, when for awhile I felt like a bit of a martyr. Some of these are a legitimate phases of learning to live with being a minority. I knew that I had some instances of judgement or cruelty based on my differences (all prejudices and cruelty are clearly wrong) but I never thought of these mindsets as a generalization world wide. That would have been a dangerous thought pattern to have.

Did I have misunderstandings based on my brain wiring? All the time. Was I not loved due to autism? Honestly, yes, sometimes. Did I encounter some blatant discrimination? Yes. A few times, especially in medical situations. One particular person set me into months long depression at the accusations she geared towards me. My husband was appalled at the treatment. I cried for three hours straight after. That was just one degrading time of many.

On the other side of the coin, over the years I found a few select medical practitioners who treated me differently in a good way. They took into account my differences under stress, anxiety and sensory and chose to work with me. It was imperative that they did not treat me as equal but unique. Yet, they also needed to give me equal respect as a human being.

I can see where people can easily generalize whole institutions based on experiences or a few bad experiences of their friends. I honestly have a problem with the nursing profession more than I should. In some cases it was justified. There are practices that need to change. For my part, I had to own my generalizations and engage in cognitive behavioural therapy to recognize that all nurses are not bad or discriminatory. I had to learn (and still get setbacks) that the system is not all flawed. I still have a problem with a lot of it and high anxiety with new nurses. I still would like to see some changes. Most of my experiences have been negative, however the positive is becoming more prominent the more I find allies context to context. I’m learning there will always be good with the bad...it can’t all be generalized and judged. 

Maybe “Autism speaks“ started out with good intentions too but society took it and over time it became widely damaging in the name of tolerance? I actually can't answer that question as I stopped engaging in conversations about it. I do know a few autistics who thought it did some good. They are in the minority but whom am I to judge their positive experience?

I was highly against “autism speaks" and spoke out against it with many other autistics over the years. I became confused when I learned that there were a few autistics who were verbal and writing online who were FOR autism speaks and some like John Elder even spoke for them. On forums (before Instagram) I was shocked to find that there were actually autistics being against autistics in the name of advocacy fighting over the true or noble way to advocate for change. I had one autistic girl target and bully me for having a family and more than one child. I had to block her from my email. 

Frankly? I got tired. Not only did I have a family to raise but I was also dealing with chronically low blood levels (ferritin and hemoglobin), autoimmune disease and my own limitations. I just wanted to be me. 

I heard idealizations of representation on the media and in shows. But when I actually thought about it personally, I didn’t want a world where autistics were represented in every movie or the leading role more often, or talked as much about neurotypicals. That wasn't a reality. We are a minority and that would be weird. I realized I didn’t want full equality for equality sake. I wanted full humanity. Would more representation help? I found at times, it hindered when done improperly. I realized equal rights was not often equal. Some aspects reminded me of communism (which is a utopian ideal but anyone who has studied history knows that Stalin caused more deaths than Hitler and communism perpetuates it's own violence. Read Gulag Archipelago for more. Especially if you are a fan of Marxist philosophy.) 

The very people who need more rights in the first place end up having their rights ignored because they are different. Because they do require a few different approaches due to their own contexts, histories, tolerances, languages, styles, different economic stats, disease or addiction, DNA or co conditions, lifestyle traits etc. Unfortunately, we can not all be equal in everything. We have glorious differences to be celebrated and wonderful similarities to focus on. We can help each other where we are at odds. I realized I actually never wanted equality in treatment but equality as a human being whom is both unique and common. 

Ultimately I wanted and want to be treated as a saying in the autism community goes;
“Different NOT less.” 
Never less. But I definitely want to acknowledge the beauty and hardship of differences. 

An example: If I was treated the same in a sensory environment I would fail. If I was held up to a normally wired (neurotypical) person I would fail. In my journey, I had to learn to accept the terrible abuse and mental hospital mistakes in the past, as part of the cultural PAST. It did not mean I supported or thought that treatment was ok. It did not mean that sometimes those travesties are not still committed. But by not erasing history and the previous times, there were reminders and lessons. 

A lot of my journey through autism advocacy and my experiences with the health care institution is eerily akin to what is happening now and with the police narrative. This was a huge dose of needed perspective. 

For me, it came down to owning what I can change personally. I teach my children to never use autism/ aspergers/ disability/ illness/ difference as excuses but as an explanations. There is a key difference there. It is empowering. And hopefully a bridge or mode to understanding. 

My biggest lesson was self acceptance. I WAS/AM autistic. Yes, it often means I am the minority for processing and communication in a group of people. Sometimes this is obvious and at other times invisible. Sometimes invisibility made it worse and I almost wished I “showed“ more or could “mask” less. Other times invisibility made it better, but then I’d be angry that was the case on behalf of others who couldn’t be that way, or the parts of myself that became sick from masking. Both were terrible in different ways. On the flip side, sometimes it was a boon to be different. It gave me advantages. I’d be silly to think it wasn’t an asset too at times to be how I was. 

So all this lead up to this moment in time. This is my context and story. This is why I decided that I didn’t want to be called an advocate for autism or anything else. Often advocacy starts out with love and nobility but easily gets lost in it's own rhetoric and languages and creates new problems or forgets WHY it is doing what it is. Sometimes in the name of loving people it forgets the actual case by case person TO love. It’s easy to get lost in proper terms that seem to be noble or about love and forget the very flawed people who have stood by us and love us. I’m not saying the abusive, discriminatory language should go unsanctioned. I'm also not saying that I will not "advocate" on behalf of those I love or myself. To me it is reminiscent of when I stopped using the term "Christian." It was tied up in too many opposing belief systems, insinuations, movements, and judgements. I couldn't use it anymore even if some of my friends felt it was the right term for them. I could respect that. I ask them to respect my decision.

I know movements can also be crucial and there is a time and place for everything. I definitely played all parts in my own autism journey and maybe I will again in the future depending on circumstance and context. Maybe each one was legitimate? Some of it can easily be boiled down to ages and stages. But in my context now? I’m more wary.

I prefer now to work my social change person to person, telling stories, sharing others stories. Sometimes I send things in a moment of passion or thinking and mistakenly think people are in the same context as me even though, through these experiences, I’ve learned they are often not. There’s a part of me that forgets. I’m also human and make mistakes. I can rarely articulate what I want except  in writing or music. I still use music the most to communicate whom I am or what I want or my feelings to my children and husband because my writing is still misinterpreted. Often I don’t have words or say the wrong thing or assume someone will understand. I prefer to listen to both sides. I do take a stance but that stance is often not what I portray or what people know. It takes deep thoughtful meditation to get there and I can’t explain it ( also how I feel about beliefs.) 

I worry that the words we use actually make the issues worse. When “white Privilege “ is constantly talked about or “ white supremacist's " it becomes even MORE of a problem. It does not mean there is not racism or that all people have some form of privilege. There is a difference between actual racism and the belief of "systemic racism". I have been educated on both. I find that there is much that needs more discussion and research that is not from a biased political scheme. Telling people who don’t use the proper terms that they are ablest, racist, anti whatever or asking to “educate” them is also a form of bullying. How dare we tell other people what to call themselves? How dare we ask people to constantly remember all the proper terms? It goes both ways. In the end, many of the terms are a socially constructed form of cultural appropriateness. Do we need to change some words? Yes. Often the reason why we change words are not as noble as we think. Intent of the word is more important than the word itself. Context is everything. Sure, if in a loving relationship, there is a time and place to ask for certain terms or to ask for certain words to be left out of the equation. Love conquers all.

I personally believe diffusing, focusing on statements such as: “Here is what love looks like" "This is a story of love" "This is an example of  WHY you matter" or "Look at this person who thrives and are just like YOU!” Empowering speech and people instead of using speech that victimizes and martyrs. I hated being victimized in the autism rhetoric yet some organizations still thrive and are being applauded by many today who do just that. Part of me has to be ok with the good parts they do and not see it as completely polarized. Many other advocacy groups for LGBTQ to race to ableism are getting lost in their own language insistence and policing. It’s sad because what they are trying to achieve in most cases is noble and true. Judgements, bullying, racism, hate, policing loved ones and the silencing culture is not ok. It’s never ok. Even in the name of “justice” or “educating.” 

I’ve been burned too recently by advocacy in the name of tolerance to join up with any. I see too many patterns that I’ve lived through. I do believe in kindness, inclusion, love, true justice based case to case, merit (which has also become a dirty word), grace, patience... 

I do have a huge heart for minorities. For making the world better. For peace and equality of humanity. But not equality overall. From my perspective and experiences, that ends up being unjust and unequal. Recognizing differences, celebrating them when possible, working on owning our life stories and improving where we can and helping those who cannot help themselves is a credo I can support. I believe in living our best lives, not out of guilt or shame for differences, but out of celebration.

Sometimes the loudest voices actually aren’t often the kindest. They are the meanest or hurt people who are hiding behind rhetoric to push what may seem noble but cruelty can mask as kindness. Kindness takes the conversations, the time, the respect, the heart, and an aspect of home. Home is a place where there are boundaries like a door to be closed or opened. A home is place where safety should be offered to all who enter with true intent. Anyone, no matter their differences, can be treated with respect. They may challenge or disagree inside the home but a true home offers an ability to have fair treatment. Which doesn’t mean each child will get the exact same room but a room that expresses both their differences as people (and celebrates them!) and gives the similarities of being human also expressed in their rooms. Home provides shelter to grow. It provides a place to earn merit and learn how to be decent. But it’s also a place to activate grace when the fallibility of being human kicks in.

Kindness begins in the home. It ripples outward. Those whom are placed directly in our paths should have an aspect of it given to them from us and vice versa. If we put an ideal and rhetoric before people we put issues before relationships. It doesn’t mean the issues don’t matter but it does mean that we begin to see heart and hearth. Home is a place where differences matter because they do. We are not all the same. My son with freckles and moles needs extra attention in the heat/sunshine. My daughter with hyper flexibility has to attend physiotherapy. I can’t cook or drive in most places. It would be a travesty and injustice to treat our very human differences as either wrong or put them all on the same level. We will have different needs at different times. Contextual stories help erase hate. And when there are times when we are threatened by more - in an ideological home- we can lock the doors and invite in those who will respect humanity at all levels even if the conversation may hold nuances of difference.

This is my personal context. It’s my story and my opinions. This is my freedom of speech from living in a country that still allows for the expression of all. That matters. That is being threatened in seemingly noble ways but we need to look at all we will lose- especially for those we are fighting FOR.

I’m going to be fallible. I’m going to be right at times too. The new silencing culture that bans books, tears down statues, cancels talk shows based on a long ago transgression, holds mistakes from the past as the current present, polices languages etc.all in the name of making things "better" is forgetting the crucial lessons we learn about the good and the bad of history. There are ways to honour the good while taking lessons from the bad. An example would be to either move the statue to a museum acknowledging the part it played in history with a write up of the benefits and the terrible. Or to erect a new statue next to it celebrating the very aspect that was unsupported in the past. Re writing history the way we wish it could be, is a travesty. Re writing our future starts now.

I’m going to be both confident in my stances and suffer low self esteem sometimes. I am going to both live with misery and joy. And that makes me human. That makes me alive. I refuse to be policed by friends and family. That is my personal right as it should be for all. Challenges in context and with kindness are entirely different matters. I don't love conflict, but I’ll dive into tough conversations. I will apologize for hurt caused if I see it or if it is asked of me. I will also try my best to live in integrity and kindness. I always felt like an alien and still often do, but I know I’m also human ... And that’s where we are the same and what I try to focus on while still telling my story and celebrating and respecting our differences. 

I actually felt Sam expressed this better than I could accurately;

Post Edit: My husband suggested I make it clear that I believe in equal rights of humanity which is different from treating everyone the same. He said people may think I am against equality but see, those are two very different concepts. Emotions and hype can cause the lack of distinction. I thought it was clear so I urge you to re read my words if it is not.

Song Choice: Mind is A Prison- Alec Benjamin  "...Then I tied up my linen with five strips of ribbon I found. Scaled the side of the building. I ran to the hills till they found me. And they put me back in my cell. All by myself, alone with my thoughts again. I guess my mind is a prison and I'm never gonna get out
So they tranquilized me, analyzed me, threw me back in my cage.Then they tied me to an IV, told me I was insane. I'm a prisoner, a visitor inside of my brain. And no matter what I do, they try to keep me in chains Sometimes I think too much, yeah, I get so caught up I'm always stuck in my head I wish I could escape, I tried to yesterday Took all the sheets off my bed...Said even if it's true, no matter what I do. I'm never gonna escapeI won't give up on hope, secure another rope And try for another day..."

Liberal or Conservative? Living in Twilight. "Both Sidism"? Polarizing Society. Playing Defence in a Dangerous but Beautiful Game.

There are people who belong to the daytime and sunshine. They choose bright sunlight for their perspectives. There are people who belong to the night and moon. They pick the darkness to thrive and survive. Both ask me to choose a darn side. I get sent articles of sunshine, if I send a few out about the moon. I am asked to educate myself on the moon, if I focus on the sun. Most people trust that I will read up on both and contemplate the moon and the sun, if I have the time. But sometimes it is forgotten that there is a liminal space called dusk/ twilight... or two liminal spaces, in fact, as there is also dawn. They are both brief. They are often forgotten or heavily celebrated for an instant. Some romanticize them while others scoff at their brevity. Some will say, "Twilight is not a time of day...it's either day or night." Yet dawn and dusk still have their moment. They are legitimate in their own way. They belong to both dark and light, yet are also fully neither. Both the sun and the moon pull them. I have people whom I love and whom love me, who are both on far political ends of Liberal and Conservative. Some are more extreme than others. Some have delivered deep wounds to me in the past and present. I have learned to live with both.

“But avoid foolish controversies, genealogies, dissensions, and quarrels about the law, for they are unprofitable and worthless.” Titus 3:9

In politics, I generally score Liberal or Libertarian on all the tests I take to tell me how to vote. Yes, I take those tests because I hate politics. But politics have become the new monoculture. There were a few years I refused to vote because I thought it was pointless as I figured that all the candidates lie, go back on their promises, and build platforms based on what their demographic wants to hear. But then I began to vote again simply for the fact that I love my country and wish it to remain as it is...a democracy. Which meant I needed to value the act of voting itself as a Canadian. In the past my vote relied heavily on the freedom to homeschool my children. However, I vote differently in each election. I also try to pick a candidate that seems the most honest. At times that can be the exact opposite of the party I voted for before. It is contextual to me. But I am odd.

In light of my varied articles, I was accused of being a "both sidest in the name of pseudo intellectualism and polite kindness." At first I was insulted. But then I realized that I do not wish to be an intellectual, nor do I pride myself on that concept anymore, so that wasn’t a loss. As for polite kindness? After that particular week, where both sides had asked me to defend myself or educate myself, I came to realize that it is not easy exercising polite kindness. It is no small thing to see merit in both sides. Kindness is not a weakness and requires the fortitude I often don't feel I possess.

“And to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, so that you may walk properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one.” 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12

I think a bit differently than a lot of people due to many factors. But I can ironically forget and assume people know my context. I once sent out an email, which some recipient’s thought was terrible, others applauded, and many were in the middle about. My first mistake was that I sent it to part of the wrong email group list who would not understand where I was coming from. My second was that I didn’t fully understand how many people equate a link, or article, or video with the sender as “their truth” or “full support.” That assumption never happened with books. At least when I was a teenager, no one assumed if a book was given, that it was the full truth of the person sharing it. Plus, I thought me stating, "I do not support all these people or know their contexts" made that clear. It didn't. I mistakenly called the email truth and perspectives. I didn’t even realize a week later how wrong that could go, until a friend gently pointed out what she thought. I was astounded. In my mind I thought, we must search for truths in all things, find different perspectives and that many things can look different from an opposing angle. I chose the angle that was not my typical. Looking back I realize how unclear that was. Yikes. But to me in that moment - It was crystal. I also forgot about heightened emotions in that particular context. Many people were being attached to rhetoric and stances in their emotional and spiritual lives. I forgot to give consideration for this fact. I was once again being a paradox and forgetting my own context, and their emotional context, in the name of context! “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.” Matthew 7:12

I come from a conservative background while being a person who is compassionate at perspectives and scores liberal. I had years of therapy to discuss some of the underlying issues I had in this regard. Many conservative people were close friends of mine who knew my context and loved me, but made it clear I was wrong. In some cases I was blatantly told I would burn in hell for eternity for multitude aspects of my BEING. Ironically, the varied people who thought I would burn didn’t usually agree upon the aspects I would burn for. They were united in agreeing I was going to hell, but divided on the WHY.

 

“Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind. Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain blessing.” 1 Peter 3:8-9

My husband is more conservative than I am. He likes politics. A few years ago he started to heavily explore political topics with varied speakers. It caused issues in our marriage. I actually had to have therapy for it! The therapist told me to try to give him a few hours in the week to hear what was important to him in these topics and then I could also have some time for my interests to share. It sounded fair. 

The first year I hated most of the resources and podcasts. He chose from a lot of what liberals call the "alt right." That label isn't always accurate. Most were actually libertarians or many other diverse groups. Let me say- he did NOT agree with all of them, but he was interested in hearing them. I was programmed to react the most strongly to the ‘triple evil’ of  ‘white,’ ‘male’ and ‘semi conservative sounding.’ People like Dave Rueben, Ben Shapiro, Jordan Peterson, Louder with Crowder, Art of Manliness (Brett Mckay), etc. I researched from the liberal side of things and found much to dislike. Unfortunately, I did not give consideration to the obvious bias of liberal articles. But despite forming my opinions of these men from liberal articles and podcasters, I tried to keep an open mind. My husband mattered more to me. I wanted to see what he saw, while still being ME. By the year mark, I could listen and disagree with most of them, but still see a person behind the rhetoric instead of the devil incarnate. After the second year, I learned contexts, and one of these people became a personal favorite. Isn’t that interesting? When we regularly engage and hear someone’s story, we become more understanding. Maybe we even find humane similarities? Often we just do not take the time for what is quite different from our own opinions. It takes too much effort and emotion. 

“And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.” James 3:18

I began to hear their voices as familiar and I saw some merit or intelligence to a few topics. Did that mean I stood by everything they said or did? Absolutely not, but there were voices that slowly, begrudgingly, I began to like and agree with more often then before. At first I disliked Jordan Peterson a lot. I read his first book and disputed half of it in book study. But my husband was allowed to listen to a podcast every second night. He chose JP. I chose Alan Watts. We switched. It takes me at least 2 hours to fall asleep. I would get hooked by the dialogue and find myself hearing the entire episode. Eventually I began to recognize great guts, intelligence and found that I could in fact, source a few labeled ‘conservatives’ (JP is actually a self described centrist) as on my reading list. But see? Perspectives and tolerance of differences takes TIME and trust and context. That took over a year of hearing his voice (and his second book) to win me over. I still will "argue" some points when we listen but more often than not, I find myself respecting and listening.

I find it weird how people cannot separate a book, podcast, film, music choice, or art from the creator, person, artist or belief system. I find it odd, that if I like Jordan Peterson, some people accuse me of being anti feminist or anti- trans when that could not be farther from the truth. I believe in free speech and JP is a huge contender for it. I find it odd that when I say I read Glennon Doyle, it's assumed I back her up all her ideas and followed her on social media. I did not. I find it odd that because I like shows like Easy A, some of my conservative friends think I have no moral compass. Ironically the show’s theme used to apply more to my conservative friends, but later I found the opposite in how I was being labeled, diced and attacked by some of my liberal community. The films’ commentary on people’s judgments seemed to apply to both groups. I find it weird when people find out my favorite show is Glee and label me immediately, especially if they have not even viewed some episodes I love from later seasons. They do not understand that watching and absorbing the songs inspired some of my best actions in life. 

Why do we judge people by sole statements and factors? Can human beings be complex and nuanced and full or paradox? If we are made in the image of a God that created intricate wonders beyond our current science, how much more precious and mysterious are we? “You are fearfully and wonderfully made.” Psalm 139:14

My daughter is an ENFJ. She cannot even be in the room when Ben Shapiro is on. She has a visceral reaction. It makes sense because her ENFJ personality thrives on harmony. Shapiro is NOT a harmonizer. My daughter sometimes agrees with aspects of the content, but cannot stand his approach or harshness of point. Julianna cares deeply for the wounded and will approach life that way. She needs to honor that. Just as many ENFJs will feel the same. As long as she still sees Shapiro as a fellow human being, it is ok for her to listen to other voices that work on her level more often. But the same cannot be expected of all personality types. I need to honor that I am the paradox as an INFJ. I WILL see merit to both sides. When I truly listen I find undercurrents of humanity in each. It’s not a better way of being…but it’s not less either. I don’t expect it from my friends but I am ME and will still work out my perspectives in this way. I ask for respect from those who work differently. I strive to give the same respect back. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be call sons of God.” Matthew 5:9

People are so complex. We can be paradoxes or enjoy opposites and still hold on to our morality. We can have stances but still engage with the other "side." Ironically, when I became slightly more vocal about conservative links I had seen, when I previously had given plenty before from the other side, I was given grief from many self identified liberals. I’ve since learned to refrain on sending links on most topics. Back when I was still on social media, there was a day called Blackout Tuesday. I did not participate due to multiple reasons. I was called a white supremacist simply because I did not post a black box. It astounded me that people thought this was an indication of how I viewed anyone different from me. 

“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.” Matthew 7:1-4

One of my favorite companies banned J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter merchandise. Oddly the small company was known for carrying her products, so it was surprising when, due to a statement Rowling tweeted about gender issues, they labeled her as a trans hater and discontinued her books. At the time, I was still on social media, so I left a comment asking: Since when do we expect all of our authors, celebrities, businesses and people to be infallible and rise to a level of perfectionism? They make mistakes, sometimes large ones, but don’t we all? How is it right to then delete our complete associations with things that are still wonderfully good, just because of a mistake? Why are we bowing to perfectionism in speech or deed? Does it mean people can do whatever and hurt whatever? No, but does it mean we can enjoy fandom, art and beauty regardless of the creators lifestyle choices or poor living etc. I imagine that if we banned all of the people who made mistakes - we would no longer be reading, watching, savoring art or learning - because half of our history is terrible. When the memories and history of a people is erased, it is easier to rule them. People are flawed. So we stop listening to Michael Jackson or stop reading J.K. or stop enjoying a Picasso? Not that I particularly see Picasso as art, but each to their own. Where will the line end? When will we stop censoring in the name of freedom while ironically taking freedom away? We expect freedom of speech but then we heavily sanction people who exercise it? No, it doesn’t mean we excuse terrible behavior or put up some personal boundaries, but if companies ban authors they don’t agree with where will it end? Who will decide? And how will we find the person who will always be 100% politically correct? We change people story by story. We ask for better treatment in the context of our relationships and that changes the world. Harry Potter spoke to many outcasts. The books and films carried me through depression. J.K. is brilliant for creating it. Does it mean she’s not human or that we will agree with every life decision? Banning an entire world just because she created it, seems counterproductive to the true issues.

In the feed thereafter I was the top commentator for likes, but I was also equated with Hitler and called a homophobic, trans phobic, and an anti Semitist. What??? Luckily, the one very rude comment deleted it after other strangers supported me and disputed their comment, but the damage was done to a degree. And this is part of the reason why I am no longer on social media. I strive to take both support and disagreement with a grain of salt. Both can change on a dime. Neither should define me. I should only define myself through the One Whom Sees. “The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light, but if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!” Mathew 5:22- 23 

The very people who praise me can dispute and vice versa. This is the price of freedom, the truth of the ego, and a matter of perspectives taking. Of course, I struggle with it many times. But let me be clear. I am NOT a victim. I have been before. Sometimes I can not help but feel victimized and fight the specific injustice, but I refuse to define myself from that narrative simply because there have been some hardships.

I'm human so I naturally go through all the stages of grief when friends turn on me, or misunderstand, or accuse, or assume I am not "educated." I circle back to rage often until I can calm down. It takes some self-control to not answer in kindness and sometimes I fail. “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.” Matthew 5:12 

The silencing culture astounds me. The policing of jargon is damaging. I honestly never thought I would see the day when liberals would be just as cruel to me, and cause as much hurt, as the fundamentalist Christians did. I don't know which one was worse- people knowing your context and judging and being cruel- or people not knowing your context and being judgmental and cruel? I guess both are bad in equally different ways.

“But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” Jeremiah 29:7

And so… I have found this to be true. Everyone has the capability to be cruel on any political spectrum. One is not more worthy than the other, liberal or conservative, or the many other parties. One is not more "noble" than the other. Both have merits. The opposing political structures also have massive downfalls. If we are basing our worth on a stance, our foundations will easily crumble. 

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.” Matthew 5:24-27

On the flip side, I have had friends/family who disagreed with my sources or links, but have been above and beyond understanding and kind, from both sides. They knew what their foundation was built on. They had opinions but since their love was built on Solid Rock, they choose to SEE the face of another. I have had friends that I will stick by whom have stuck by me, even when we disagree. When I am asked how I can be friends with people who have belief systems that can be downright degrading to certain lifestyles...I say, "Honestly, I don't agree with that system of beliefs and it's been aimed at me, at times, in a different way...but in the end, I love these people and they love me. They make mistakes. They are fallible humans. But I don't work the way of only being friends with what I agree with constantly (or at least I don’t feel I should work that way.) I feel if I did that I wouldn't have any friends as I fall on both sides. I can also be perceived as insulting too." My husband aids me in this mentality. He is my fierce protector, my memory and calm voice. I disliked that he opened up my world in many ways to politics, but I'm also indebted to him for walking alongside me, in the navigation of all the tricky emotions that are packed into the choices we make.

“If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small. Rescue those who are being taken away to death; hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter. If you say, “Behold, we did not know this,” does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who keeps watch over your soul know it, and will he not repay man according to his work?” Proverbs 24:10-12

I’ve been told that I can be defensive. Perhaps it is because I have been friends with both teams my entire life, defending both, to a degree, some more than others in politics, beliefs and many stances. But that does not mean I have unchangeable core values. My core value is this; “He answered, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and love your neighbour as yourself.” Luke 10:27 

I’ve tried to be less defensive but then I realized that I am better at playing defense. Offence often makes me uncomfortable or I quickly retreat. I’m not a star player generally. Being a goalie would be my nightmare...but I’m good at defending once a play is in motion. That’s not a bad thing. “But in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.” 1 Peter 3:15 I need to remember timing is everything. Gentleness and respect are crucial. Sometimes I’m pulled off the field altogether or decide to sit out. But in general I was made to be on defense. I defend for everyone who is in my playing field ... and I need to respect that in myself. I also need to respect the offence players even when the aggression makes me feel attacked. I have to remember to respect that role and it’s legitimacy. I need to respect the kicker or star player as elite in their realm. Does it mean we can’t try each other’s roles or stop playing the game? No, but it does mean that there is room for each player to be their best typically when they can. “Gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” Galatians 5:23

I know enough of both sides of the political scheme that I could easily just conform to whomever I am with. But I have done that before and paid a hefty price inside of myself. To quote a movie I've always hated (Princess Bride. Another example that I can learn and quote from something I don't fully enjoy or support.) "Life is pain and anyone who tells you differently is trying to sell you something." I choose pain WITH love. I hope for gentleness and self-control. I am living in dusk filled twilight. I do not expect you to join me. But I ask that you respect it as legitimate as living in sunshine or moonlight. I love the entire twenty-four hour span of the day, but I need to be twilight dusk or twilight dawn.

“Kindness is often mistaken for softness, and, let me tell you, friends... That is a mistake you don't want to make. Kind people are not born that way; they do not stumble into it. Kind people are forged in fire and darkness and imploding stars. They have steel cores. Throw a punch and you're going to break your hand. Kind people are kind because they know firsthand that life isn’t.” GeekDawson

                                                   
In the end it’s all rhetoric to me that’s socially constructed. Intent and context to context matters most. Song Choice; Living in Twilight- the Weepies
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9G2B0qaT5IU
Honestly, this expresses me best. I could easily be a full hermit. I have in the past besides my immediate family and may need to go to that mode for a bit soon for my sanity but at the same time I avidly love the people in my life and am still grateful even if there are many mixed feelings. But music expresses me best;