I’m back to talk more about honesty, lying, having a bad memory, and how I deal with it. Here is my post from yesterday in which I talk about why I hammer out what I remember all the time.
I did it before my medical crisis because of how everyone else in my family deep-sixed experiences left and right. After my medical crisis, I accepted that my memory was markedly worse than it had been before my medical crisis. It was a trade-off I was more than wililng to make because I got more life out of it.
I don’t know if it’s just that or if it’s that and getting older, but my memory keeps getting worse. Fortunately, I can now do simple math in my head again (I could not do it for about a year after my medical crisis), and I no longer forget random words except extremely rarely. But I will completely forget things I would never have forgotten in the past. I have to make notes to myself that I would not have had to make in the past. I don’t like it, but I’ve resigned myself to it.
One thing that really jolted me, though, was when my brother and I had a shared Nelson Mandela moment. We both remembered doing something, and doing it in a very specific way. It turned out to not be true (we had irrefutable proof), and it made me realize that my memory was shakier than ever.
That’s part of the reason that I hold on to my truths as tightly as I can. I know that I’m losing a lot every day, but there are things that I need to keep myself centered.
No matter how much I lie to other people (either directly or by omission), I remain true to myself. I read something once about emotional honesty, which is different than actual honesty. Not to say that you can freely lie whenever you want as long as you can justify it to yourself, but that if a little lie or omission can smooth things out, why not?
I rarely outright lie about things, but I will dance around it. I mentioned in previous posts that I will not rarely speak up when people call me ‘she’ because it doesn’t really matter to me, but I will not call myself ‘she’. I have done it on accident, but I try to avoid personal pronouns for myself as much as possible.
I don’t mind being called ‘them’, but I don’t identify with it. So if someone uses it for me, and they have, I won’t respond. It’s like when I tried to go by a shortened version of my middle name as a kid beaause I did not like my first name growing up. My fifth grade teacher was a prince among men, so he would call me by it–and I would not respond because I had forgotten I had switched my name.
If someone were to ask me what pronouns I used, I would tell them that I didn’t use any. I wouldn’t expect that to stick, though, and I would be resigned to being called she/her. If gender were not such a hot-button issue, I would not care about it at all. I would just be a she/her and be done with it. However, because there is so much bullshit wrapped up in it, I would much prefer not to be identified with any gender at all.
I am fine with my bits, and I have no desire to change them. I know I’m not a guy and that I relate to the experiences of women, when I look way down deep inside, I don’t feel anything. What I mean is that I don’t know what it means to feel like a woman, and lord knows, I have tried to feel it so many times.
When I first heard of the concept of agender, relief washed over me. Nonbinary, genderqueer, and genderfluid did not feel quite right, but I was tempporarily going with genderqueer because it was the closest. I like the word ‘queer’ a lot because I’m weird in so many ways. But, unfortunately, queer just means gay these days.
It’s the same with genderqueer–people mostly mean nonbinary when they say it. Just as race is either black or white. I don’t choose to live my life in the middle, but it’s my lot and destiny.
Side note, but related: In the Solo Long Form, there is a section in the second section that is called the kick section. It’s the least-favorite of most people, but it’s my favorite section. In part, it’s because I took dancing for ten years when I was a kid, so my balance is solid. I know how to do a kick without falling over, and it’s done right by me in Taiji. From the minute I started learning the kick section, it was home to me.
Many people think I’m contrary, that I choose my viewpoints/identities out of spite. My mother especially thinks this is true, but it’s not. I don’t choose the hardest/least-liked choice because I want to be different; I’m different, so therefore I always take the road less traveled.
I put this down to my neurodivergency, by the way. I look at things differently, and I’m most comfortable where it’s the messiest. This is my truth, and I hold it close to my heart. I’m a hot mess, true, but I would not be happy if I went down the more traditional paths.
My mother once lost her temper at me beacuse I had pushed back at yet another tradition she was talking about. I can’t remember what the actual tradition was, but it was a common theme in our discussions. One time, she mentioned the lengths my cousin’s fiance went to propose to her. Clearly, to my mother, it was admirable and enviable. I was aghast and said I would hate anything like that.
That might have been the time she snapped, “Just because something is tradition, it doesn’t mean it’s bad.”
I immediately snapped back, “Just because something is tradition, it doesn’t mean it’s good.” She did not like that, but I think that ended the argument. Temporarily.
My truth was and is that I simply do not think/feel/act like other people. Again, I put it down to my neurodivergency. The more I read about autism specifically, the more I understand what was ‘wrong’ with me for lo these past several decades.
I’m still figuring shit out, especially concerning gender. Sometimes, I wished I could think more like normal people because life would be so much easier.