Who I Stand With and Why

We’ve all been watching the news from the USA, many of us with mounting horror and dread. It’s just one horrible thing after another. The worst kind of people gaining power and control. The wholesale wrecking of government departments and sacking of even essential staff. The demolishing of legal rights and protections for and attacks on the most vulnerable, the erosion of human rights, the muzzling of the press… And on and on it goes. It’s scary stuff, especially for those into history. There’s an onslaught of enmity directed at anyone who doesn’t fit into the cis, straight, white, male, middle- or upper-class, born-in-the-USA conservative Christian mould - even conservative Christian women now, which is surprising no-one but those women themselves.

The most important question is not ‘what will THEY do next’, because we can all guess, even if only by looking at history. (Concentration camps, anyone?) The Big Question is, how much and for long will the American people put up with it, before they rise up in rebellion? When (not if, but when) that will happen, what form it will take, how successful it will be, what the end result will be, is anyone’s guess. The only sure thing is that it can’t go on like this.

The new ‘rulers’ are of course presuming on shock and awe to keep everyone under their thumb. But I think they underestimate people. Even Americans, who, let’s face it, have had their education system run down, their rights steadily eroded, their economy tanked - FOR DECADES - and who have been indoctrinated into believing that ‘Murrka is the Greatest Country on Earth’, are not going to take it forever. Or even for that much longer. And of course the targeted groups are probably going to play a pivotal role in leading the resistance, because they have to. Because it’s THEIR lives at stake.

To be sure, many of those in the most vulnerable categories are feeling terrified and helpless. Some are leaving or planning to leave the worst states or even the country. (And let’s be clear, you’re not a coward if you can and do flee. Some are more vulnerable than others, or lack the capacity to fight.) Others are trying to help them get to ‘sanctuary’ states, though how long they will be able to keep gays, trans people, immigrants, women who want abortions etc, safe, is yet another good question. People are right to be scared. But sooner or later, if you’re pushed to the wall, you have to push back, if only because you’re not able to either flee or hide. I think it’s already begun to happen. And let me note here that street demonstrations and court decisions are only the beginning, not the end, of the resistance. I mean, I’d be relieved if they were effective, but I’m not holding my breath. Because Trumpet and his cronies have nothing but contempt for courts, laws, government departments and even their own voters.

I want to make it plain that at least part of my support for these groups is because I identify with those in danger. I’m acutely aware that if I was a US citizen or resident right now, I’d be in danger too. I’m gay, non-binary, autistic and almost certainly ADHD as well, I have multiple physical disabilities and health conditions, including CFS, arthritis, thyroid issues, high cholesterol and diabetes. I am on (government paid-for) medication for the last three of those. I’ve also been poor all my adult life, am dependent on NZ superannuation (i.e. the old age pension), and live in social housing. I’d be a target, for sure, so I really, REALLY feel for all my counterparts in the States.

But it’s more than that. It’s a matter of simple human decency. How anyone thinks it’s okay to attack people who love their own gender, identify as a gender that doesn’t match the body they were born with, are of a different race or religion (or none), fled persecution or poverty in another country to find a better life for themselves and their family, etc, etc, is beyond me. I simply don’t understand this level of cruelty. If I had been alive in 1930s Germany, you can bet I would have been opposing the Nazis, and I’m opposing them now. You’re either on the side of human decency, compassion and justice, or you’re not. End of.

Because of this, I’m not going to waste time pleading for Those In Power to spare my American counterparts. Things have gone way beyond that. I’m not able to do a lot from this distance, but I will certainly do what I can, most especially not allowing myself to be silenced. I don’t know if Big Brother is reading this. Maybe, maybe not. Either way, Big Brother? Go fornicate with Yourself.

Some would say, ‘oh, it’s easy for you to say all this, you don’t live in the States, you’re safe’. But we’re all fooling ourselves if we think the Orange One’s influence stops at the shores of the US. He has already made territorial threats against Canada, Greenland and Panama. He’s blatantly sided with Russia, and publicly attacked Ukraine’s courageous leader to his face. He’s demanded insane things of other countries, or sent his VP to verbally attack them. And that’s all just in less than two months. Not to mention that NONE OF US ARE TOTALLY SAFE if he triggers World War Three. A second American Civil War would affect people way beyond America’s shores. Tariffs or the collapse of American share markets, businesses or banks can also affect the whole world. So no, I don’t think we are going to be totally safe wherever we are.

Not that I’m deluding myself that they’ll come after me personally, I’m not important enough. Nor am I planning (or able, or even wanting) to visit the US any time soon, and New Zealand is not considered an ‘enemy’ of the US, right? ...Right? And Trumpet has really respected America’s traditional allies …right? But he wouldn’t interfere with another country’s citizens… right? Right?

 Truthfully though, I’m more concerned right now about the encouragement he gives to the worst kinds of people everywhere. A member of the coalition government here has proposed a bill to get rid of all DEI laws and regulations. It has little chance of success… so far. Who can say what the future holds.

 But ultimately it doesn’t matter. On the deepest level, I simply do not care. So Big Brother, if you do wanna come after me, all I can say is - bring it. I know who my people are, and who I stand with. And it’s not those currently calling the shots across the other side of the Pacific.

Fearing Other People

Almost all my life, I have been afraid of other people.

It started quite young, when I first began to be aware that I was ‘different’ to others, which I interpreted as ‘lesser than’. I had only those around me to compare myself to, and it was obvious that I lacked something, some qualities or understanding of the world, that they had. That I might have other qualities just as good never occurred to me. This was the start of my fear of being ‘exposed’, my inadequacies painfully revealed for all to see.

My frequent social blunders and people’s hostile reactions added to my anxiety. I never knew when the next attack would come, or from where, let alone why such truckloads of disapproval would be dumped on me. In fact the older I got the more expectations it seemed others had, and the more I seemed to make mistakes no matter how hard I tried - and believe me I tried so hard – and thus my fear of other people and their reactions to me continued to grow.

Even after I began to acquire some social skills, or to mask as I’d now call it, I was always afraid of being exposed – because ironically these skills actually seemed to increase the risk that at any moment the mask might fall off, and I would be revealed as ‘faking it’. I was often subtly rejected anyway, but I felt sure that a more complete and utter rejection would follow if the full extent of my inferiority was revealed for all to see.

I think now that I probably had social anxiety disorder during this time. Not that I would have ever admitted any of it to any counsellor or psychologist, for fear of more judgements that would have left me feeling even more inadequate, more stupid, more everything ‘wrong’ and inferior. Looking back now, my tension and anxiety must have been obvious to many, but I think I was probably dismissed as ‘neurotic’ or similar. Some did try to help me, I remember being told to ‘just relax and be yourself’. The problem was when I followed that advice, I got more criticism and hostility, not less. I would withdraw again, more confused than ever. I was caught in a vicious circle of shame, low self-esteem and fear, which led to more shame, lower self-esteem, more fear, around and around.

And then came ‘that’ relationship. As the relationship progressed, my partner made it more and more plain that in her eyes, I didn’t measure up, as a partner, as a woman, and quite possibly as a human being. Nothing I did or said was good enough, and as fast as I ‘fixed’ one thing I’d done or been, another would crop up, the nagging criticism was constant and devastating. I lived in greater anxiety than ever, trying so hard to please, to be and do what she demanded. None of it was enough, I wasn’t enough, I could never be enough, it seemed. My self-esteem plummeted ever lower.

Eventually, of course I burnt out. I gathered up what little strength and shreds of self-regard I had left, and exited the relationship. I was empty, lost, and broken, with nothing to give anymore. I just didn’t have the capacity.

I retreated to live alone in a tiny cottage in the country where I barely saw anyone for days at a time. Combined with being relieved of the pressures and demands of an emotionally abusive relationship, I now had lots of time for self-examination. It was not an easy time, as I finally admitted to myself just how terrified of others I was.

I began piece by piece to unravel and let go of all that terror, a process that in some ways continues today. I had no understanding of what caused that terror, that wouldn’t come for many years more, and I still thought of myself as an inferior specimen of humanity, but I started to not care about other people’s opinions and judgements of me. It seemed to me that they would judge me and criticise me no matter what I did, so what was the point of worrying about it?

Fast forward several years, and the realisation of being autistic. Through meeting other autistics, I began to slowly realise my ‘difference’ was not an inferiority at all, but a unique way of being. It took some time, but my self-esteem began slowly to repair. My fear was slower to decline, but as I grew more confident in my autistic self, it did slowly diminish. More years went by, and I realised that I’m non-binary, aromantic, and probably either demi-sexual, aceflux or something similar; and more recently that I’m almost certainly ADD (without the H). Understanding all of my ‘differences’ has further alleviated my fear and shame. Community was crucial to this, but so was a willingness to look at myself.

And now? I would say that my fears are more of a knee-jerk twitch, an ancient reflex soon quieted. Where it is tangible, it’s more of a pragmatic wariness rather than outright terror. At home, by myself, I can relax. But when I venture out, I’m always at least a little on guard. Some individual or, say, a group over there might be laughing now, but I never know when some minute error on my part means I become a target. (And yes, it has happened.) Better to move on and avoid them. And given I can only recognise potential abusers if they follow a pattern I’ve seen before, it’s just safer to avoid anyone I don’t know, with new people added only slowly, as they prove themselves.

The truth is that I’m still in many ways in retreat from the world. I have no permanent job, no partner, no dependent children, multiple health concerns and little involvement with the community at large, which makes it easier to stay solitary. My main social interactions are online, which I handle way better than IRL interactions. The bottom line is that I still don’t trust the world, or people.

The long years of fear have taken their toll of course. I feel that a lot of my health problems, especially CFS, low thyroid, GERD, IBS and possibly even the diabetes are the end result of all that stress and anxiety. You don’t gnaw on your own liver for decades without paying for it.

I’ve also realised that the flip side of fear is anger. There’s a lot of rage stored up in me, fearing the world has become FTW. Sometimes the anger is focused on a single person (most notably my ex), but sometimes it’s just a more generalised thing. It is, alas, mostly bottled up with little outlet for it, other than creative ones. Another kind of gnawing on myself. I navigate this every day. And I don’t expect anyone who isn’t autistic, or some other kind of neurodivergent, to understand it. How can they? Who can, if they haven’t lived it?

This is the first time I’ve admitted all this publicly. It feels cathartic to do so. Once upon a time, I could never have done it at all. That’s progress, I guess, but the world, and other people, remain the same. I remain the same. It’s only how I deal with it that’s changed.

What It Feels Like To Be Emotionally Abused

I don’t normally watch the TV ‘soapies’, but a storyline on one of them caught my eye recently. It’s about an older woman who’s been emotionally and verbally abused by her husband to the point where she breaks and lashes out at him with a wine bottle. At the point of writing this, she’s in jail, awaiting trial for attempted murder – and viewing herself as a ‘bad’ person who deserves punishment. The other characters on the soapie have mostly turned against her, as even before the wine bottle incident, he had quite expertly cast himself as the ‘victim’, and her as various bad things. Even the police don’t pick up on the clues.

As a survivor of emotional abuse myself, I find it too painful to watch, though of course I’m hoping the truth will eventually emerge. But I don’t have much hope of it, as it can be really hard for anyone who hasn’t been through this to understand what it’s like. While my situation never got as far as wine bottles, it nonetheless nearly destroyed me. So I want to explain something of what it feels like to be the recipient of emotional and verbal abuse.

The first thing that needs to be understood is that it’s essentially a betrayal. I’m not talking about sexual betrayal here, but a betrayal of the very trust that should exist between partners. When you enter into a relationship, there’s a basic assumption that they will deal with you fairly and honestly, that they truly care for you and that anything they tell you is the truth. So when they start telling you that you’re this or that Bad Thing, that you’re no good at this or that, you believe them. They must be telling you this For Your Own Good, right? Or at least that’s what they tell you, and they love you, so it must be true, right? Overwhelmed by this flood of new ‘information’ about yourself, you lose all sense of who you were before in the struggle to correct your ‘faults’, to become what they’re telling you that you ‘should’ be.

It's especially easy for them if you already have low self-esteem and are inclined to believe the worst about yourself. (Abusers hone in on such vulnerable people, of course.) Add in being autistic (as in my case), even if you don’t know it at the time, but do know that you have trouble ‘reading between the lines’ and making good judgements about yourself and others, and you’re primed to believe that they are seeing something you can’t, even if it doesn’t ‘feel right’. Under a relentless barrage of criticism, you cave. They must be right, you must be bad, bad, bad. Having been reduced to a state of helpless abasement, you don’t find much to admire in yourself anyway.

Their attitude that they’re positively saintly for putting up with you, that nobody else would, means that over time, you come to believe that others must have seen these faults too, but been too polite to tell you. You become ashamed, not wanting to inflict your flawed self on anyone else, and will probably seem withdrawn and anti-social to others. Thus it’s easy for your partner to cast your actions or words in the worst light to others in turn, subtly running you down, and further isolating you. With no other opinions to compare your partner’s to, your judgement becomes skewed, and you continue to believe the worst. I eventually came to see myself as worthless, as a partner, as a mother, as a friend, and quite possibly even as a human being.

Many people seem to think that verbal and emotional abuse is ‘not as bad’ as physical abuse. “It’s just words.” Even the victim/survivor may think this, or be reluctant to reveal it, or even to see it as abuse. Those harsh words can actually often go hand-in-hand with physical violence, but even without a blow struck, they can be devastating. Without wanting to minimise the hurt from physical abuse at all, damage from a broken limb can heal faster than damage from a broken heart. Because that’s what abusers do to you. They break you. They shatter your heart, your psyche, your very sense of self, your will. I would say they reshape you to their liking – but you’re never to their liking. They’re never satisfied, there’s always more criticism. Nothing about you is sacred.

Even after you scrape up enough shreds of self-esteem to get out of the relationship, it can take a long, long, long time to realise what’s happened to you, and what you’ve lost. To give just one small example, my partner had me convinced that I was hopeless as a ‘home handywoman’. If I even started to do a job around the house, she’d sigh impatiently, and snatch the tool off me with a contemptuous “oh, give it here!” Afterwards, it took me more than two years to remember that before her, I’d actually been moderately competent at doing stuff. Not as expert as her maybe, but I’d known what to do with a screwdriver or hammer, I’d rewired electric plugs, swapped a faulty cord on an iron, and even done up old furniture. But under the onslaught of her contempt, I’d forgotten all that. I’d forgotten the very idea of being competent – at anything.

And it can be an even longer time healing. Even now, more than twenty years later, I still find myself squirreling out damaged parts of my psyche. For instance, I still have to remind myself that if I do something that’s not ‘how others (deep down, I mean ‘her’) would do it’, it’s okay. No-one’s watching me, about to pounce and tear me apart for it, I don’t have to constantly defend my actions or words anymore. But despite my best attempts to dismantle it, the kneejerk fear-reaction is still entrenched in me, not to mention the belief that the way I do things is ‘wrong’, even if it feels right to me. That’s how deep the damage can go. This is a battle I’m still fighting. Even writing this has stirred up old, painful memories.

My wish is that people will come to understand that emotional and verbal abuse is just as devastating, just as emotionally destructive, as physical abuse. That it can wreck people, wreck their lives, wreck their relationships with others, even wreck their physical health, and leave them feeling, afterwards, like a piece of wreckage washed up on a beach, no good to themselves or anyone else.

Never underestimate the power of ‘mere words’.