Back to the “why” for this podcast: public schools that corral all the N/D children together for a social skills group boggle the mind. How can kids lacking social skills learn better social skills from other kids who also lack social skills? What kind of awkward, separate grouping can we create to make kids who already feel they don’t fit in MORE like misfits? Mainstream (Sonny and I have a problem with the concept) can be defined as “othering” kids that are different.
Whatnot is a favorite term Sonny uses, like Bye & Stuff, to signal that the conversation is over. He jokes that whatnot stands in for everything he doesn’t have to say while also managing eye contact and other nonverbal forms of communication that his social skills groups in school failed to address. In fact, in our family we refer often to the son with ASD whose mom asks why he never tells her he loves her. His succinct #unfiltered answer? “I told you once.” This led me and Sonny to discussing the platitude “love ya, love you” people use to close conversations or texts. I can’t think of something more insincere than to say something every single day, multiple times per day, and strip it of any meaning. You might as well close calls/texts with, “Bye & Stuff.”
We can’t help being different. Following the mainstream is not the same as belonging. Having a common purpose, like playing chess, can give you a reason to join a social group. However social conventions and blindly following the mainstream then feeling something’s wrong if you don’t is toxic. The mainstream is a vacuous, false, judgmental and constraining illusion. Sonny says social conventions and the mainstream are set by “the man” and should be avoided (therefore, we should all freely express our weird and wonderful selves.) But social skills groups in public school curricula keep everyone solidly average and the neurotypical solidly behind, alone, and not accepted.
We do discuss NSFW topics on this podcast. That’s because my kids are adults now, and this podcast is about adult topics that can be hurtful, yet sometimes darkly humorous, too.
People say moving can be one of the most stressful experiences of their lives. I found the transition not as bad as other sudden changes in my otherwise stable life that have been much more challenging. Perspective matters. Also, we’ve cut our household expenses by 75% and moved to a quiet country lane on a hilltop with hundreds of trees. The tree-line, endless sky, and forest floor covered with a carpet of fall leaves left behind in winter are some of my favorite things to see.
So the stress of moving has definitely been balanced by all the good this move has brought.
This move upstate has been on my mind for months. It is a rebirth. I don’t care that I’m 51. I will pave a new way a little later in life; ‘is it too late?’ That’s nonsense. We humans have infinite time to pursue new projects precisely because we don’t know how much time is left.
My rebirth as a writer, after 27 years of teaching, is like a dream. I’ve always been a writer, collecting experiences like autumn leaves pressed in the pages of my mind’s diary, looking and listening for things to write about.
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But, you know, there’s an asshole in my head. It tells me:
“You’re not good enough.”
“You’ll never succeed at this.”
“What made you think you could do this anyway? People don’t just quit their jobs and move 125 miles away to the country.”
“Aren’t you too young to retire?”
The asshole is always seeking out the negative.
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I’m not really retiring. I’ll always be a teacher. I always was a writer too...but life intervened.
I once wanted to write a novel, but the characters and scenes I thought of sounded contrived. Now I am outlining two memoirs: one a joint memoir with my mom about childhood memories presented from each of our points of view. The other is about struggles I have had raising my son, now 21, who has autism.
I find non-fiction is kinder to me than fiction. So I will persevere.
Rebirth this past Jan 1st has been sudden and somewhat unkind. Change can be a tough teacher. That’s because the best-laid plans fall apart when you don’t realize how much stress you place on yourself, and life puts on you. Cards, pictures, photo albums from another time and place tease you with the images of yourself in youth. Memories of free time, and people long gone, flood in suddenly.
I had great intentions about my resolutions for 2020, and they all felt like I was being hard on myself for trying to break habits I just can’t help. I resolved to learn to use my Google calendar and quit putting post-it notes all around the house. So far, this has been a look into my own imperfections as homekeeper, a la Martha Stewart, wanting to organize and keep track of what I accomplish each day with lists. The lists are unforgiving because they do not so much remind me of what I’ve set out to do and what I’ve accomplished, but rather are a punishing reminder of what more is still in front of me to do.
I wonder about other parents whose adult kids are fine, not disabled, not struggling with behavioral health issues. They see their kids accomplish college, dating, first job, marriage with so much less effort. Do they kick themselves so many times per day and feel so behind in life as I do? Maybe they do…but they don’t know...
I turn on YouTube yoga. “Do not engage in the comparing mind,” comes the soothing voice of the instructor. It’s true. I’ll always feel behind unless I make a plan to improve my attitude. After all, envy has never solved the problem that life isn’t fair, and negative mindset defeats growth mindset every time. Let me not spin around endlessly, stuck on ideas that are so unhelpful.
Rebirth means acknowledging what didn’t work the first time around, making changes and decisively moving forward. Tiny steps forward, or even standing still is better than backsliding. Forgiving myself when I do backslide, though, is a real hurdle. A significant change would be to doff the mantle of doubt.