Tag Archives: honesty

The Messiness of Blogging

Years ago I wrote about the difficulties involved in writing a balanced and yet honest depiction of life.  I just reread that post and my first response was to delete it.  But as I no longer do things on this blog without asking Emma, I asked her if she wanted me to remove it and others like it.  She wrote, “no.”  So I’m leaving it, though, for the record, if this were left entirely up to me, I would delete it, along with a great many others where I detail personal things about my daughter without thinking about how she might feel having such information made public.  To be honest, I would delete the first two and a half years of this blog, just wipe the slate clean and begin with the spring of 2012 when I began to become aware of Autistic people who were writing about their lives.  But this blog is not mine alone.  This blog is a group blog, written by three people, one of whom has their name featured on it, Emma.  (Emma has said she likes the name of the blog and does not want it changed.)

A blog is a curated version of life.  We tell what we are comfortable discussing, what we are aware of and understand at the time of writing.  But when writing about others, particularly family members, things get trickier.  Even a year ago I wrote things I am not comfortable with, but as Emma wrote a few weeks ago, “it’s important to show that times were difficult.  It is still not easy at all times.”  Emma wrote this regarding another project, but when I asked her if her statement applied to this blog too, she wrote, “Yes.”  

My dilemma in continuing to contribute to this blog concerns that difficult balancing act of writing about the things I am learning, processing and thinking about, while being respectful of other members of my family and not writing in a way that suggests I speak for them.  Even so, I am not always successful.  But more and more there’s a great deal I don’t write about.  If Emma is going through something that causes her pain, I no longer feel comfortable writing about it, even from my perspective unless she asks me to.  I argue that a certain amount of self censorship, particularly when done to protect the confidences and security of others, is not necessarily a bad thing.

The only time I’ve posted things that are personal and painful are when Emma has written, “Put this on the blog.”  Or when I’ve asked her, “What do you want to talk about?” And her response was, “I want to write a blog post.”  But these omissions, this version of life that I do feel comfortable enough to discuss here, cannot, by their very nature, give a true picture of our lives.  So for some, it may seem our lives are ideal, or some readers may mistakenly think we never struggle, or perhaps these posts give the impression that we live a pain-free life of nothing but joy and ease.

Blogging is an intimate and immediate form of writing.  Those of us who blog are far more available to those who read what we write than other people who write. Anyone can make comments and most bloggers, even those who do not or rarely respond to comments, read what commenters have to say.  It is part of what makes blogging unique, and to me anyway, particularly compelling and interesting.  Comments from others, whether they agree or not, are fascinating, often thought-provoking and some even make me reconsider what I believe or how I think about something.

Blogging is the reality TV version of writing.  But even so, there is more left on the editing room floor than gets seen.  It is the nature of the beast.  Life is far too complex and messy, particularly when it is four lives or five, if one counts our mischievous kitty, to capture in 800 words or less, even when posting Monday through Friday.

WhiteWaterRafting copy

Blogging

It’s always interesting to get attacked by someone you’ve never met.  All the more so when they write about how “narcissistic” I am, while talking about themselves and bolstering themselves up in comparison.  They use this blog, link to it, as a spring-board to talk about themselves.  They talk about how they are such a “bad autism mom” because they do not do whatever it is they perceive me to be doing, while at the same time congratulating themselves.  All of this they say with a liberal dose of sarcasm and “eye rolling”.  How easy it is to criticize everyone else.  How easy it is to sit on one’s little self-made throne of superiority, picking apart other people’s lives, while avoiding looking at one’s own.  It’s so much more fun to sit in judgment of everyone else.

There are so many blogs out there, written by all kinds of people about all kinds of things.  Why choose to talk about the blogs you don’t like?  Why not talk about the ones you do.  This blog isn’t for everyone.  If you don’t like what I write about, you don’t like what I say, you don’t agree, then comment, start a conversation, have the guts to say something here, directly to me, or don’t, and go find another of the tens of thousands of blogs out there.  But devote an entire post to all that I’ve written that pisses you off while calling me names, meanwhile using the cloak of anonymity?  Seriously?  Why do that?

I always find it interesting that the meanest comments (and by “mean” I do not mean those who disagree, I mean, nasty, sarcastic and those who resort to name calling) almost always come from people who do not use their real names.  I understand many people choose to use other names to protect themselves and those they write about, I understand that many do so for good and well thought out reasons, but there are others who do so because they say awful things about other people, things they would not have the courage to say to the person’s face while hiding behind their safety net of anonymity.

I have a lot of ambivalence about this blog.  I always have.  I love that my daughter says she’d like to write things to post on here.  I look forward to the day when this blog becomes hers, or we decide to shut it down and she begins her own, if that’s what she would prefer.  I do not post photos of her without her permission.  I do not quote her without her permission.  I try to write honestly.  I write about what I know.  I write about what I think about.  I write about the mistakes I’ve made and continue to make.  I try to write with a certain degree of self-reflection.  I write about what I’m learning.  I’ve written about my past, my childhood, addiction, career, passions.  I try to keep the focus on “my side of the street.”  Often that’s not easy.  It would be far easier to write about everyone else, a running critique of everyone else’s poor behavior, but doing that is not the person I want to be.  I have worked hard these last two decades of my life to be and behave differently.  My default mode of being in this world does not serve me or others.  Being self-involved, a victim, blaming my bad behavior on others, doesn’t help me.  What do I learn from that? How is any of that going to improve anything?  I can’t control other people.  The only thing I have any control over is my response and my actions.  I try hard to not get into judging and condemning others.  I try.  I’m not perfect.

I do what I can to live a life with purpose.  Some people are going to disagree, some people won’t like the way I write.  Some people will decide they “know” me and don’t like what they think they know.  They will find fault.  That’s okay.  But don’t come here and use this blog as a spring-board to talk about how superior you are because you “don’t do” what I am doing.  Don’t twist my words around, take them out of context to bolster yourself up.  Go get some help.  There are lots of people who specialize in helping people with issues of self-esteem.  You want to have more self-confidence?  You want to deal with your insecurities?  Trust me bashing, judging, criticizing others isn’t going to give you what you’re looking for.  You want to complain about me and what I seem to represent to you, go for it.  But have the guts to do it to my face or at least do it here, while using your real name.  Don’t link to this blog from yours.  I don’t need nor do I want the traffic that is generated from your words.

Continuing The Conversation…

Be honest.

I’ve written about this before.  Writing, writing that really reaches out and pulls others in is about honesty.  Even if you write fiction, it’s still about honesty, the feelings portrayed, the dialogue;  it has to be honest for those of us reading or we can sense it.  We know something’s a little off.  Sometimes it’s hard to pin down, it doesn’t seem obvious right away, but I’ve found it’s because I don’t believe what I’m reading.  It’s not entirely honest.  I have had this experience with my writing.  I have written things and then wondered why it didn’t feel quite right and it’s because I either hadn’t dug deep enough or I wasn’t being honest, which in many ways is the same thing.  Self dishonesty is one of the most difficult things to spot.  I spent years and years in a place of deception, of hiding from myself, my feelings, my desires, my ambitions.  I shut down.  I hid and it caused great pain, not just to me, but to those who loved me.  It’s hard work to be honest.

A couple of days ago I wrote about labels and my struggle to understand how and why they do not apply to our Autistic children.  Why they cause damage, why they are destructive and not constructive.  As is often the case, I use this blog to figure things out.  I think of it as my sketch pad where I play with ideas and then either move on to the next sketch or work and refine.  The pieces I work on a bit more, I often submit to HuffPo, I think of it as filling in with color and others I keep working on with the hope of putting them into a book, a finished canvas (this last part is very hard for me, sketching is easy.)  But as I’ve also said, I’m a SLOW learner so sometimes ideas will fall easily onto the page, or in this case the screen, but not move beyond it.  And that’s where the work comes in.  Because ideas are great, but if I can’t take them to the next level they won’t go anywhere.  Some things seem to take me awhile to really get, to fully  incorporate in a way that they become less an idea and more a knowing.

So it was this morning as Em and I made her breakfast.  I was thinking about labels and why they matter or don’t matter and why they bother me and cause me to ruminate and at a certain point I tired of the ongoing controversy raging  in my head, so I forced myself to shift my thinking away and be present for my daughter.  I was able to and eventually off she went with Joe onto the camp bus and I turned to my email and there was Outrunning’s latest post.  Now for those of you unfamiliar with Outrunning The Storm, click on the name, I’ve provided the link.  Did you read it?  The post – How Do We Talk About This?  I’ll wait.

I’m waiting…

Okay.  So there it is.  For those of you who didn’t click on the link, skip to the next paragraph, but for those who did, and if you’re like me, you also clicked on the comments and saw the first three from Moms who got what Outrunning was saying, who’ve been on the receiving end of exactly what she’s referring to and get it.  They get it, or so it seemed to me when I read their comments.  And then there’s my comment.  Yeah.  Okay.  So I still have some work to do.  I’m pleased to say that I did go off after leaving my comment and sobbed.

I’ve been very weepy lately.  Partly I blame my husband’s absence, he and Nic remain in Colorado while Em and I are here in New York, so I’m a little off-balance.  There’s a lot going on this summer and at times it all feels overwhelming, in a good way, but never-the-less overwhelming.  But I think most of my emotional overload is due to the fact that Peyton and Dianne Goddard’s book – I am intelligent – has stayed with me, in addition I received an email from Emma (not my daughter, another Emma, who two years ago began to communicate through typing and has a blog) that both delighted me and filled me with emotion.  I asked her permission to quote her and she has given it, but I want to be sure I also respect her and so will quote just two sentences.

“me name is emma and i am like peyton.”

And this:

“i am pleased if our emails teach people how to measure words or personal stories in front of people they think cant communicate..

Emma”

Take a deep breath.  Okay.  Be honest.

I spent years doing this to my daughter, exactly what Emma is pleading that we not do.  It has only been within the last year that I have stopped doing this.  I have to make a concerted effort to refrain from the temptation.  So I read Emma’s words again.  I have memorized them.  “I am pleased if our emails teach people how to measure words or personal stories in front of people they think can’t communicate.”  Read that again.  There is no condemnation, no criticism, just a heartfelt request.

We are in this, all of us, together.  Your version may be different from mine, you may have children, you may not, you may have someone you love who is Autistic or you may not.  You may be Autistic, you may not.  But we are all, each one of us in this together.  There are Autistics calling out, trying to be heard, blogging, talking, communicating, asking for respect, asking for a chance to join the conversation.  There is no conversation if a whole group is silent.  Whatever group that may be.  We are ALL served by listening, by sharing our experiences, by trying to understand.  As human beings it is our obligation to be honest, to try to dig deeper, to listen.

Alone we can do so little, together we can do so much.”  Helen Keller

Richard, Me & Em – 2003

Nic and Emma – 2011

Related articles

On Autism, Honesty and the Art of Not Yelling

Be honest.  This is what Richard reminds me when I feel stuck.  Whether its regarding my writing or when we are discussing something that is difficult or when I simply feel confused.

Be honest.

Sometimes it’s easy, like when I feel sad and a little frightened that Richard threw his back out again and is in so much pain he can barely walk or I’m annoyed because while waiting for the subway this morning a woman cut me off and sat in the only vacant seat, forcing me to stand or how happy I felt last night when Nic asked me to watch an episode of ‘Chopped’ with him and then pulled a blanket up around us both and said, “I love this, Mommy.  We’re having a son and mom moment.”  Or the sadness that tempered that joy because my next thought was – Emma cannot say that, does not say that, has never said that and then scolded myself for having had that thought because Emma can and does talk, while so many other kids cannot speak, let alone express more complex thinking.

Be honest.

Sometimes I just want to yell and say exactly what comes to mind, because, after all, wouldn’t THAT be more honest?  I already know the answer.    Not yelling is highly underrated, it seems to me.

Be honest.

I want people to love Emma exactly as she is.  I want people to understand when they meet her that in her short life she has already known more pain and discomfort than any young child should have to feel.  I want people to speak to her as they would any ten year old and not like she’s an animal.

I want people to be nicer to each other, which means I have to do my part.  A recent study came out saying autism may be due to older male sperm.  That evening I said to Richard, “Well that gets me off the hook.  It turns out all of Emma’s suffering is your fault.  It’s a huge relief.”  Luckily Richard loves me anyway, even when I say things like that and replied, “I’m so glad I could help you out with that, honey.”

And he did and does.

I’ll end with the conversation I had with Emma last night, showcasing her negotiating skills, inherited from her amazing dad.

“Mommy?”

“Yes Emma?”

In a sing-songy voice, she said, “Mommy takes me to the zoo tomorrow?” (It’s from a picture book entitled Going to the Zoo, from the Peter Paul and Mary song of the same name.)

“Not tomorrow, Emmy.  I can’t take you tomorrow, but you and Joe could go.”

“No!  Just Mommy,” she pointed to me and then pointing to herself, she added, “and me.  Go to the zoo together.  Maybe this weekend?”

“Yes.  We can go this weekend.”

“Just Mommy.”

“Yes.”

“Together.”

“Yes.”

“Time to read a story now.”

“Okay, Em.  I love you.”

“So much.”

(As my mother pointed out after I posted this, this conversation was a perfect demonstration of Emma expressing her desire for a – Mommy and daughter moment!)

To read my most recent Huffington Post, click ‘here.’

To read my guest post on Special Needs.com, click ‘here