Ableism Therapies

ableism, Autism, Disability, Neurodiversity

Ableism Therapies

[The following text is also a transcript for the featured image infographic]

The only evidence backed treatment for ableism is listening to disabled people and learning from us.

Organizations

Twitter Hashtags

  • #CripTheVote
  • #ActuallyAutistic
  • #FilmDis
  • #AutisticWhileBlack
  • #TheFutureIsDisabled
  • #TheFutureIsAccessible

Awareness Campaigns

 

Intro: Ableism Awareness Month

Part 1: What is ableism?

Part 2: How many people are affected by ableism?

Part 3: What causes ableism?

Part 4: Is there a cure for ableism?

Ableism Awareness Wrapup Post

Is there a cure for ableism?

ableism, Autism, Disability, Neurodiversity

[The following text is also a transcript for the featured image description]

Is there a cure for ableism?

Effective treatments for ableism include:

Education

Everyone must make an effort to learn about disability issues and to examine and confront ableist bias ourselves and our communities. We all have a duty to understand and combat ableism.

Accessibility

Inclusion and accessibility are civil rights, not special privileges. It is everyone’s obligation to find out how to make our communities and spaces more accessible, and endeavor to include disabled people.

Intersectionality

The rights of disabled people are intertwined with non disabled people’s civil rights; our political activism, our votes, and our policy making should always be inclusive and intersectional.

Center Disabled People

Disabled people must be centered in our own lives and in disability advocacy; this means we have autonomy in our personal lives and we take the lead in disability rights organizations. Non-disabled people should have supporting roles as needed.

Sidebar has an image of two pills and the text, “There’s no magic pill for prejudice.
Remember, bigotry is NOT actually a disease!”

Intro: Ableism Awareness Month

Part 1: What is ableism?

Part 2: How many people are affected by ableism?

Part 3: What causes ableism?

Part 5: Ableism Therapies

Ableism Awareness Wrapup Post

What causes ableism?

ableism, Autism, Disability, Education, Neurodiversity

[The following text is also a transcript for the featured image description]

What causes ableism? 

* There is no single cause of ableism; rather, it is a complex and interrelated set of attitudes, assumptions, and prejudicial biases. Ableism develops from a combination of individual prejudice and environmental factors, such as widespread normalization of ableism, misinformation by ableist institutions, and societal lack of inclusion for disabled people.

* Some important risk factors for ableism are unfamiliarity with disabled people and ignorance about disability issues and disability rights. Tragically, an ableist culture that fails to provide access and true inclusion for disabled people has a high risk of worsening the ableism epidemic.

* Vaccines do NOT cause ableism; on the contrary, a large scale program of inoculation against ableism, through the inclusion of disabled people and education for non-disabled people, may protect individual people and major societal institutions from falling victim to ableism.

[Image has a graphic image of a syringe at left, and “erinhuman.com” at bottom right]

Intro: Ableism Awareness Month

Part 1: What is ableism?

Part 2: How many people are affected by ableism?

Part 4: Is there a cure for ableism?

Part 5: Ableism Therapies

Ableism Awareness Wrapup Post

How many people are affected by ableism?

ableism, Autism, Disability, Neurodiversity

[The following text is also a transcript for the featured image description]

How many people are affected by ableism?

Everyone is affected by ableism.

* At any given time, about 1 in 5 people worldwide has a disability.

* People who were not born disabled, or aren’t currently disabled, may become disabled later in life.

* Some people who do not identify as disabled or recognize themselves as disabled are in fact disabled and directly affected by ableism; for example, people with psychiatric disabilities such as depression and anxiety.

* Disability Rights are highly intersectional; civil rights issues for women, people of color and LGBTQ+ people are intertwined with disability issues. Disability rights also overlap with issues such as healthcare, education, poverty, and more.

[sidebar has an image of a caution sign and the following text]

CAUTION

Descriptions of ableism as a disorder is this series are satirical and not to be taken literally.

Ableism is not a form of mental illness or psychiatric disability; in fact, blaming bigotry or prejudice on mental illness or any other disability… IS ABLEIST!

Intro: Ableism Awareness Month

Part 1: What is ableism?

Part 3: What causes ableism?

Part 4: Is there a cure for ableism?

Part 5: Ableism Therapies

Ableism Awareness Wrapup Post

What is Ableism?

ableism, Autism, Disability, Education

[The following text is also a transcript for the featured image description]

What is ableism?

Ableism is a cultural disorder that can affect people’s language and communication skills, social relationships, and other interpersonal behaviors.

Symptoms may include:

* Deficits in respectful, disability-inclusive communicate skills; may include the repetitive use of language that discriminated against or excludes disabled people, and a failure to provide communication access to disabled people.

* Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity with disabled people, ranging (for example) from lack of empathy toward disabled people to failure to include disabled people in social activities; in severe forms, may include abuse, homicide/filicide, and/or total apathy toward the abuse of disabled people.

* Restricted patterns of discriminatory behavior, for example: insistence on segregating, mocking, and/or abusing disabled people; unusual interest in “inspiration pornography” that objectifies and demeans disabled people, etc.

Ableism is any form of discrimination or negative bias toward disabled people or disability in general.

Intro: Ableism Awareness Month

Part 2: How many people are affected by ableism?

Part 3: What causes ableism?

Part 4: Is there a cure for ableism?

Part 5: Ableism Therapies

Ableism Awareness Wrapup Post

 

April is Ableism Awareness Month

ableism, Autism, Disability, Education, Neurodiversity

For several years, autism organizations led by non-autistic parents and professionals have focused on Autism Awareness in the month of April.

Autistic people have pushed back on the Awareness campaigns (and their usual pathologizing, othering frameworks) by asking for less talk of awareness and more acceptance for autistic people of all ages.

This year I was inspired to flip the old script with a new kind of Awareness campaign:

This April is Ableism Awareness Month

Join me in the coming weeks as I roll out some basic information and awareness of this epidemic of ableism, including examples and symptoms, treatments and alternatives, and more.

Part 1: What is ableism?

Part 2: How many people are affected by ableism?

Part 3: What causes ableism?

Part 4: Is there a cure for ableism?

Part 5: Ableism Therapies

Ableism Awareness Wrapup Post

When Do We Get to Be Autistic?

Autism, Friendship, Identity, Neurodiversity

img_3994

*

I’m seeing a new therapist and I’ve told her how much I like to write; last week I told her that I haven’t blogged in a while because I haven’t had the time, but this morning I told her that I’ve realized I am not writing because I don’t know what to say.

She told me that it’s important to keep doing this so that I have a voice.

So I’m going to try to say some things.

*

I have a friend who is autistic and also a kind of mentor to me, someone who’s been around for longer and I look up to her because I admire her sense of fairness and the way she applies a gentle touch to fighting for social justice. And also because she has this way of leaving me with these jewels of words that I keep forever – and she probably doesn’t realize she does this, but perhaps she will recognize herself when she reads this – like when I fretted that my inability to express convincing enthusiasm would put her off and she told me, “you don’t have to do the face with me.”

And when we were talking about another autistic person who was under fire for the way they talked to other activists and she said that she was sad because she knew this person was kind and thoughtful and was being misunderstood because of their communication style, which made her wonder, “when do they get to be autistic?”

*

This is a post that is not about me, or it’s partly about me, but it’s also about all of us. We’re pattern seekers, you see – we Autistics. Or maybe “pattern receivers” is a better phrase, as so often the patterns just seem to be there, revealing themselves to us. The pattern that lately reveals itself to me everywhere I turn is that it’s still not acceptable, sometimes not safe, to be Autistic in this world, no matter how much lip service is paid to awareness or acceptance.

This is about me, and it’s about all of my friends.

It’s about my friend Michelle who writes, “when I am authentic in my neurodivergent way, I see a pattern of becoming distant from friends and isolated from community.”

It’s abut my friend Ally who writes, “Pretty much every person I talk to or meet, is probably ableist and would think that people like me should be prevented from being born or should not be spoken about with accurate descriptive language because it’s uncomfortable and we all know that Big Pharma is taking over the world and just inventing stuff to medicate and don’t you know that autism is just an excuse?”

It’s about my friend A whom I won’t name without permission but who has spent hours with me dissecting what is really going on in our conflicts with non autistic people and how to balance self care with bridge building and… well. Without A I don’t know what I would have done these past few months, really.

It’s about the people at the Autism Women’s Network meetups who express how much they long to show the world what they can do, what they have to offer, what they’re good at, but struggle to attain even the most basic supports, not because those supports are impossible for others to provide, but because the people in neurotypical environments think that we should be able to just suck it up and deal with: painful lighting, overwhelming noise, fast transitions, sudden schedule changes, our inability to communicate verbally under stress.

*

The awkward thing about being an autistic adult who communicates in words is that we are expected to have “overcome our autism” when we have no such goal even if it were possible (spoiler alert: it’s not). I have personally been congratulated for overcoming autism: a well meaning gesture that means nothing at all. For a time I thought this was a kind of applause for having the ability to pass, but I have learned that it’s code for “we expect you to act normal now and anything that you can’t do we will consider a personal failing.” For adults who were not diagnosed until adulthood or are not diagnosed but have self identified, this goes double.

We still ping as different, as other, as unacceptable; but everything that pings as non-typical about us is attributed to a cause that is NOT autism – it’s just a character flaw or something we are doing wrong.

– if you have social anxiety, actually you are just
—> rude, unfriendly, antisocial, self-isolating, a misanthrope, a snob

– if you have a direct communication style, actually you are just
—> rude, confrontational, aggressive, insensitive, argumentative

– if you are drawn to deep connections in conversation, actually you are just
—> too serious, too intense, a downer, socially awkward

– if you have sensory aversions, actually you are just
—> fussy, entitled, irritable, negative

– if you have executive functioning challenges, actually you are just
—> lazy, disorganized, incompetent, a complainer… or not that smart.

So the people who “just don’t see it” when you say you’re autistic or who think it’s so great that you’ve “overcome” the way your entire mind and body are designed simply because you can say words with your mouth or type words with your fingers (sometimes), definitely see that you are not like them. They’ll tell you so all the time, in their own way.

*

I worry that because I fumble to express myself in a room with people but manage to find my words when I’m alone with my fingers on the keys, I will be seen as

—> disingenuous, passive aggressive, two faced, or just plain

Crazy, like those old coworkers once called me when they found my blog…

I’ve had a pervasive feeling of not being safe lately that’s been impossible to shake. I don’t mean that I have felt myself to be in physical or mortal danger, but my soul, my true self, is afraid to come out. I’m aware of being too much, too intense, too serious, too too… . I worry that owning the word disabled will cause people to see me as incompetent. I feel that asking for more help or support will cause others to think that I can’t do it at all. I can’t stop pushing myself to prove my worth through my hard work. I will wear myself out trying to earn a place in the world.

I look on others who come out to the world with powerful vulnerability, who find their strength in softness, with keen envy. I feel miles away from that. Light years away.

I don’t feel brave enough to speak. But someone told me that I should keep writing because I need to have a voice. If this is my voice, I have some things I’d like to whisper.

5 Supports That Changed My Life

Autism, Identity, Neurodiversity

It’s been over a year and a half now since I first began to realize I was autistic, and what originally kicked off that process of self-discovery was that the demands of ordinary life were beginning to outstrip my personal resources, and I needed to know why. I’ve since heard this described by autistic people in different ways, from “rolling burnout,” to “my workarounds were no longer working,” to Cynthia Kim’s phrase “playing life in hard mode.” I myself often described myself as being in survival mode on a daily basis, and my therapist once said that I needed to get “out of the basement level of functioning.”

When I sought a diagnosis in spring of 2015, there was some magical thinking involved in my expectations for psychological diagnosis and therapy. My goal was to go from being a flailing, falling-apart passing-as-neurotypical person to a thriving autistic person, which I still think is an excellent goal. However, it doesn’t happen by magic and as it turns out my psychotherapist was not the Blue Fairy.

bluefairy

Image is from Disney’s Pinocchio: The Blue Fairy points a magic wand at the nose of Pinocchio the puppet, who is sitting on a shelf amongst pots of paint.

It’s been a gradual, trial-and-error filled journey, but I’m finally getting to a place where I know what kind of supports I need in order to thrive, and can access them. By no means should anyone assume that what works for me will work for them, which I’m sure my readers already understand. But here are some of the supports that have been integral to my ability to cope with ordinary life without feeling like I am overdrawing my energy bank every single day. These things have gotten me out of survival mode and made me feel more like myself again.

BoseQC15

Image is a pair of black and silver Bose QuietComfort noise canceling headphones.

Noise canceling headphones. The particular pair that I own are Bose QuietComfort 15 (I asked around and was told by a few people that the older 15s are a bit better than the new 25s). This was one of the first things I did for myself after getting diagnosed with autism: I stalked eBay until I found the make and model I wanted for a good price. They are expensive, but if you are noise sensitive and can afford to splurge or save up for them, they are well worth the cost ($250-300 on Amazon, I got mine for under $200 on eBay). Bose QC are high quality, comfortable, and are wireless when you use the noise canceling feature only (that runs on a AAA battery). If you want to listen to music with these you have to use a headphones cord. Bose does also make a Bluetooth enabled pair so you can listen to music wirelessly – those are called SoundLink ($250-280 on Amazon).

Lately I have not needed noise protection quite as much, but for a while I wore my headphones every day, and on low-spoon days (when I didn’t get enough sleep and/or was recovering from a social event) sometimes I wore them all day long. You can still hear people talking at average volume in a room with you, so I could hear my kids and husband and do everything I needed to do – but they dampen really loud and/or high pitched sounds, and also ambient sounds like the refrigerator running, iPads playing cartoons, and so on. I didn’t even realize how much that kind of background noise was zapping my energy until it was gone. The downside of these, besides the cost, is that while they are super comfy by themselves, I have trouble wearing them at the same time as my reading glasses. So people who wear glasses all the time may have some issues with fit. Also, they are (obviously) conspicuous, and I can tell you from experience that if you wear them out in public people WILL stare.

Herebuds

Image shows a pair of white Here Active Listening earbuds in their case, a white iPhone with the Here logo on the screen, and a pair of sunglasses. The sunglasses make me laugh but I choose this photo because it shows the buds, case and app.

Noise canceling ear buds. Yes, I have noise canceling headphones AND earbuds. After I purchased my headphones I started hearing a lot of buzz (no puns intended) in the autistic community about Here Active Listening earbuds. These actually do a lot more than noise canceling – basically they are a smartphone-controlled EQ system for your ears – but I mainly use them to block sound. They started off as a Kickstarter project and now are issuing a trial run of the buds, which means you must sign up on a waiting list, and when a pair are ready for you, you receive a code in order to purchase one pair. For me this took exactly 6 weeks (plus a 2-3 days’ shipping), which seems typical from what I’ve heard. Currently a set of Here buds costs $200 but once out of the trial phase they will likely go up to $250.

I was nervous about buying Here buds because, like many people, I worried about whether they would be uncomfortable. I have small ears and many earbuds do not fit me at all. Here buds come with two or three different sizes of squishy flexible bud attachments, and yes, they fit me well. There are some times when I don’t like the feeling of them in my ears, but most of the time, they’re fine. I would say if you HATE earbuds do not get these, but if you can tolerate a soft earbud, they are pretty comfortable.

The EQ itself is very good, has powerful noise canceling ability and can be adjusted in many ways, by turning up and down the decibels, bass, treble, etc. It comes with a number of preset “filters” and also a custom live EQ setting. One common complaint is that it does not have a directional microphone; that means you can tune out everyone’s voices or tune in all voices, but you can’t tune in the person sitting across a table from you while blocking out the people behind you – though I’ve read they may try to add that feature in a future model.

My main complaint is that my Here buds are a little buggy. Sometimes I hear a buzz in the left one. And I often have trouble with trying to disconnect them from Bluetooth and reconnect within a single day – so it’s usually easier to just leave them on, and switch back and forth between a noise blocking filter like “Office” and a tune-in filter like “Human Speech” if I need to, for example, hear the kids playing in another room, and then tune out again. These issues can be resolved by resetting the buds, but that’s kind of a pain in the ass if I’m in a state of overload and needing relief. Even so, I use these quite a lot. They are less cumbersome than my headphones, I enjoy not having something on my head when I use them, and they’re so small and discreet that it’s very convenient to throw them in my bag when I leave the house in case I need them while I’m out. For anyone with noise sensitivity who doesn’t mind earbuds, I recommend them highly (more than the headphones, if you have to choose).

drugs

Stock photo of an orange bottle of prescription drugs lying on top of a notepad that says Rx. Note: these are NOT my actual pills.

Prescription drugs. This is NOT a support I am comfortable recommending to just anyone, since everyone is different and some people do not do well with medications and some choose not to take them, which is their right. However, I wanted to include meds because for one thing, it’s the truth – they have helped me immensely – and for another, this is me doing my little part to push back against ableist attitudes toward psychiatric medications. I view meds as just another support, one that people should be able to freely choose for themselves, and hopefully should be able to get help finding one that really works for them.

A thing about being a neurodivergent person, particularly one raised and socialized as a girl, is that you tend to defer to anyone in anything resembling a position of authority, even when you know they are wrong. You’re pretty sure they’re wrong. But they probably know better so maybe they are right? I won’t go into all the boring details but I took an antidepressant that wasn’t helping me, instead of the ADD med I knew I needed, for nine months, because I didn’t fully trust myself to know better than a doctor how I felt and what would be good for me. Eventually I found a better doctor and a better support.

Taking a drug doesn’t mean that I don’t accept my neurology – if anything, I am better able to appreciate the beauty of my ADD-autistic mind now that I am not scraping the bottom of the barrel for the inner resources to function. I don’t feel like someone else, I feel like my real self, the self I was before things got overwhelming. Maybe if I could move out to the seaside and live in a wifi enabled cottage and my kids were a little older and more self-sufficient or I had more help – and if life were simpler, maybe I wouldn’t need meds, but right now my environment is such that I need a little pharmaceutical support and I am not ashamed of that. Nor should you be if you need that too.

(Side note that I dislike the terminology of “attention deficit disorder” (I mean, really!) but am using it to be understood by a broad audience. I would love a better term, maybe attention divergence?)

Screen Shot 2016-06-01 at 2.25.55 PM

Image is a screenshot of my Habitica browser page: at the top left are my avatar and stats, with my party’s avatars lined up to the right. Below that from right to left are lists of: Habits, Dailies, To-Dos, and Rewards.

Habitica. Oh how I love Habitica!

When I got off the antidepressant and on ADD meds, the boost in mood was immediate, but executive functioning improvements still took more time and effort. Fortunately I remembered another autistic person I knew online had mentioned months back (when I was still too overwhelmed to even consider it) that they used Habitica to get their stuff done. I suspected that a task manager set up like a video game would be perfect for me, and I was right.

The above photo is a screenshot of my actual Habitica dashboard on my computer (I also have it on my phone but I use the desktop version more). At the top left is my avatar: yep I’m a Level 14 Rogue riding a golden lion and accompanied by a white bear cup, and proud of it. To the right of that are the members of my party, a social function you can use, or not. Below all that I let you see some of my tasks and how they’re organized on Habitica (as you can see I’m in a bit of a nest feathering phase with my to-do list).

I looooove this game. I don’t avoid or forget to check my to-do lists anymore because… it’s fun! This is another thing that I’m sure won’t work for everyone, but for me, getting a couple of pieces of virtual gold for doing the dishes feels motivating. It helps me manage my time, not stress about deadlines, and it also helps me to relax and enjoy my downtime because I don’t have to worry that I’m forgetting an important task.

downtime

Image is a photo my 4 year old took of me. In the foreground are chairs around a table with toys and a bowl on top; in the background I am seen from behind looking out through glass doors – a person with short brown hair and a gray sweater. To my right is a wooden hutch.

Downtime. This is not an app or a medication, but actual downtime. And plenty of it. Half a lifetime of “playing life in hard mode” has conditioned me to feel like I always have to be hustling just to keep up with the minimum standards of getting by. I’m aware that it doesn’t always appear as such from the outside, but I have always felt like I am working twice as hard just to do the things that everyone else seems to do with ease. A former friend once described me as “ambitious,” and at the time I was genuinely shocked by that characterization, but now I think I understand that being driven to succeed, somewhat perfectionistic, hard on myself, and religious about productivity, are adaptations I have cultivated (mostly unconsciously) in response to having an invisible disability.

But the cost of those adaptations is that I repeatedly push myself too far and crash. That worked well enough – I could hide it, mostly – when it was just me, but now I have a family, and it’s too hard on all of us for me to be crashing all the time.

So I am learning to build in lots of downtime as an essential support. It helps that my kids need this too (one of them especially does) so it’s not really an option to skip it. The actual *time* has been available ever seen we chose to homeschool, but the pressure I put on myself to “be productive” every day was still there. Additionally, getting to the point of rolling burnout meant that I never actually experienced relaxation – only crashes. There is no downtime in survival mode, only survival. So, all of the above supports enabled me to access downtime, and untangling myself from the internalized ableism that drove me to always-be-productive is necessary in order to truly relax.

(Easier said than done, I know.)

Hiding

Autism, Friendship, Identity

When I was 11, I had a crush on a boy who was a year younger, a boy from my church, and we also went to school together. Liking a boy in a lower grade than oneself was a thing that was simply not done, and so I concealed our puppy love, until it came out, as such things always do. My friends at the time both teased me for going out with a fifth grader, and embarked on a mission to flirt and lure him away from me. They had me coming and going, mortified, jealous, and exposed.

But that’s only kid stuff. Not like the time in college when I broke out of my usual mode of strict privacy in an attempt to bond with some girlfriends, trying to copy the way they forged their social bonds, by participating in a frank sexual conversation. And then one of them later repeated something highly personal that I’d said. Loudly. To a large group of acquaintances. In front of me.

I don’t mean to be oversensitive, of course. Maybe I was being overly sensitive too when I started my first blog, pouring out my innermost thoughts, kind of like I do here, but anonymously. It was something only my fellow anonymous internet bloggers ever saw until I worked up the courage to send the link to a close friend, the closest friend I’d had in years (maybe ever), to see what she thought, and she flatly replied, “it’s not you at your best.”

I should say former friend, because later that person sent me a letter informing me that she no longer wanted to be my friend, because she wanted to move on from me. That was not the first time that happened to me, by the way. It also happened to me the summer before seventh grade, a similar letter in the mail telling me that my friends had decided to be my friends no longer.

But, hey, I misjudge people sometimes. Like that time in my early 20s when I quit my job, and attempted to retain a friendship with one of my coworkers, sending her an email after I’d left, and including (again, oops! I never learn) a link to my blog. In hindsight, of course, I can plainly see how profoundly NOT my friend that person was, but at the time it didn’t cross my mind that she might cross me. She never replied, but another former coworker did email me, to tell me my “friend” had forwarded my blog to every single person in the company and they’d all laughed at me together and joked that I was crazy and in need of psychiatric help.

That’s the first time I’ve ever told that story to anyone but my husband, by the way, because for several years I couldn’t even think of that episode without feeling humiliation and shame nearly as fresh as the day it happened. I had nightmares about having to return to the company to work there again, for years.

Still, you would think that by age 30 I would have developed a better radar for trustworthy people. Instead, at that stage of life I found myself being dumped by a close colleague I’d worked with intimately for a few years. We were partners in business and, I thought, friends outside of work, until the day – which seemed to me completely out of nowhere – she told me coldly that I was nothing without her and she didn’t need me anymore. Nothing. It might sound like a House of Cards parody now, but it didn’t feel funny as I stood in a parking lot and wept uncontrollably, feeling like the unprofessional child she’d told me I was, but unable to stop myself crying.

Hide everything you care about, hide the things that matter, hide all of your feelings, hide your true self, because letting people see you is dangerous.

Humiliation and shame. Those are recurring themes in my social life over the years. The life lesson learned is to hide. Hide everything you care about, hide the things that matter, hide all of your feelings, hide your true self, because letting people see you is dangerous.

Hiding is an early instinct for autistic people, I think. Because it only takes a few rejections and betrayals for us to note the pattern: expose yourself and you may be hurt. Because we have an intense drive to protect ourselves from pain. Because we often can’t tell which people, places, and situations are safe, so it’s best to just avoid risking it, and to hide our most valued things, our most intimate selves, out of sight.

The trouble is, this is unsustainable. Because like any other human being we long for connection, and so eventually we’ll do it again and take a risk. Like Charlie Brown agreeing to kick the football (a thing I think Charles Schulz well understood – I suspect he was autistic too), we always will end up trying again, one more time yet again, to let ourselves be seen and hope that this time people won’t pull the football away, and let us fall flat on our backs, and laugh.

Sometimes it becomes a weird feedback loop where, because we are hiding, we find ourselves surrounded by people who only actually love the false fronts we put on. Like my former friend who told me my innermost feelings were not “me at my best,” to these people our “best” side is the side we show to please them. This is not a deception, however; we have fully internalized the belief that we must try to be this “best side” of ourselves, the one that earns the approval of our family, friends, teachers, colleagues. We want to be at our best, don’t we? And so we push those embarrassing other parts of us down, out of sight, and we hide.

I still hide, all the time. I hide the things I love, the things I’m passionate about, the things that delight me, the things that I enjoy just for fun’s sake. I hide the books I’m reading when they’re about social justice. I hide the video games I play on my phone because they are probably silly. I hide the guilty pleasure TV shows I watch late at night on Netflix.

I hide my blog in plain sight. That might sound baffling, because it’s a public blog that I write under my real name and I actively promote it on social media, but I also pretend to myself that my loved ones don’t read it. I just try not to think about them ever seeing my words. I never send them links to posts I write, I don’t talk about blogging, I cringe to mention the word “blog” in front of my own husband. It’s not that I don’t want them to know the real me, it’s that I’m embarrassed. I’m afraid. I can’t even let myself think about how exposed it makes me feel because if I think about it for too long I feel tempted to just delete the whole thing. Retreat. Hide.

I don’t have a solution for this; I expect that I never will. I’m just trying, now, to at least stop feeling ashamed for the times that I let myself come out of my hiding places.

When I was a kid I used to read Peanuts in the Sunday paper, and when I was very young I believed there was a chance that someday Charlie Brown was actually going to kick the football. Why not this time? It could happen, right? And then when I got a little older I just felt angry at Charlie Brown – why did he keep letting Lucy trick him, he knew she would pull it away, why did he even try?

But now as an adult I know that Charlie Brown would always try to kick the football one more time because that trying again was part of who he was, and that was one thing no one could never take away from him.