Good morning, Readers!
Image by Ria Sopala from Pixabay
I spent all of yesterday in bed, in my room where there is air-conditioning, rewatching Inuyasha.
Last week was pretty much a bust for me. I did the bare minimum work required before stopping for the day and losing my brain to television. Happily, though, I am almost done the manuscript I've been reading through for a friend, and I can finally start on the next one.
Anyway, I didn't really want to talk about that.
Last week, a friendly acquaintance got in contact with me, noting that they, like myself, have finally figured out that they fall somewhere on the asexual spectrum. They've had a bit of push-back from friends, who appear keen to erase asexuality and its variants. This makes me so sad. I've had similar push back from loved ones, a huge fights where those who claimed to care about me couldn't be bothered to do the research and instead insisted that I was wrong somehow, or broken in need of fixing; invalidated, erased. It was really tough. Like, really tough. My therapist made a whole lot of money from me.
In the end, I had to walk away from that particular relationship.
It was hard and harrowing, and if I didn't have the friends I had, and the circle of support that I did, I might not have escaped the abuse, not without hanging by my own belt from a rafter. It was hard.
That was, in part, why I blogged about it so much. I was the only asexual person I knew in my circles. I felt so alone and lonely. I spent years believing exactly what my now ex-friend believed - that I was wrong somehow. Broken in need of fixing. It was a profound relief when I discovered that actually, I'm not alone. I'm so not alone, in fact, that there is even a label for the thing that I am. And if it took me until I was in my thirties to come across this information, to find out that actually, I'm perfectly fine, how many others out there are similarly struggling?
Blogging about it let me sort it all out, and if even one person who felt as I did stumbled across my posts and discovered they were not, in fact alone in the world, then good. I achieved something worthwhile.
It's gratifying when people reach out to me to let me know that I did, in fact, help, even if in some small way.
I'm not saying this to pat myself on the back, but rather to express sadness. Sadness that it's 2020, and people like me are still struggling to find acceptance - even if not belief - from our supposed friends and family. That it's 2020 and people who navigate the world like I do are still feeling erased and ostracised. Still.
It also makes me angry. People like me are your friends. Surely if you claim to love and care for them, you'd do the research instead of dismissing them outright.
Asexuality is real.
Anyway, I'm annoyed and saddened on behalf of the person who reached out to me; angry because a fundamental part of themselves has been soundly rejected by folks who ought to care for them. Sad because they've contemplated leaving those relationships, and that is hard and harrowing and if they don't have a good place to land amongst good, kind folks, it might be impossible.
So, if there are any asexuals reading this, feel free to drop a link in the comments to your asexual communities - the safe places you've found when you landed. In person meet-up in the Ottawa-Gatineau region are especially welcome (even if you're on hiatus because of Covid).
That is all I've got today. I'm off to go edit stuff.
Ciao!
Last week was pretty much a bust for me. I did the bare minimum work required before stopping for the day and losing my brain to television. Happily, though, I am almost done the manuscript I've been reading through for a friend, and I can finally start on the next one.
Anyway, I didn't really want to talk about that.
Last week, a friendly acquaintance got in contact with me, noting that they, like myself, have finally figured out that they fall somewhere on the asexual spectrum. They've had a bit of push-back from friends, who appear keen to erase asexuality and its variants. This makes me so sad. I've had similar push back from loved ones, a huge fights where those who claimed to care about me couldn't be bothered to do the research and instead insisted that I was wrong somehow, or broken in need of fixing; invalidated, erased. It was really tough. Like, really tough. My therapist made a whole lot of money from me.
In the end, I had to walk away from that particular relationship.
It was hard and harrowing, and if I didn't have the friends I had, and the circle of support that I did, I might not have escaped the abuse, not without hanging by my own belt from a rafter. It was hard.
That was, in part, why I blogged about it so much. I was the only asexual person I knew in my circles. I felt so alone and lonely. I spent years believing exactly what my now ex-friend believed - that I was wrong somehow. Broken in need of fixing. It was a profound relief when I discovered that actually, I'm not alone. I'm so not alone, in fact, that there is even a label for the thing that I am. And if it took me until I was in my thirties to come across this information, to find out that actually, I'm perfectly fine, how many others out there are similarly struggling?
Blogging about it let me sort it all out, and if even one person who felt as I did stumbled across my posts and discovered they were not, in fact alone in the world, then good. I achieved something worthwhile.
It's gratifying when people reach out to me to let me know that I did, in fact, help, even if in some small way.
I'm not saying this to pat myself on the back, but rather to express sadness. Sadness that it's 2020, and people like me are still struggling to find acceptance - even if not belief - from our supposed friends and family. That it's 2020 and people who navigate the world like I do are still feeling erased and ostracised. Still.
It also makes me angry. People like me are your friends. Surely if you claim to love and care for them, you'd do the research instead of dismissing them outright.
Asexuality is real.
Anyway, I'm annoyed and saddened on behalf of the person who reached out to me; angry because a fundamental part of themselves has been soundly rejected by folks who ought to care for them. Sad because they've contemplated leaving those relationships, and that is hard and harrowing and if they don't have a good place to land amongst good, kind folks, it might be impossible.
So, if there are any asexuals reading this, feel free to drop a link in the comments to your asexual communities - the safe places you've found when you landed. In person meet-up in the Ottawa-Gatineau region are especially welcome (even if you're on hiatus because of Covid).
That is all I've got today. I'm off to go edit stuff.
Ciao!
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