unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog

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Civility is Earned

I think most of us agree that civility is good, people in general should be more polite, it is at least a good idea to be courteous to people you want to continue interacting with you, or some combination of the above. Most people acknowledge there is value in civility, at least in theory.

In practice, many people will take your civility as an opportunity to walk all over you. These people will ignore polite “no”s. They will cross boundaries until it doing so hurts them. They will take what you did not agree to give and use a combination of rules-lawyering and appeals to etiquette to justify it. 

These people will also be the first to chastise you for being uncivil. They do this because they want to continue taking advantage of you. The purpose of civil communication is to give people the information they need to treat you well without hurting them. Information will not help these people treat you well because they are fundamentally uninterested in treating you well (treating you respectfully is a lower priority than whatever else it is they want). 

They may not even realize they’re doing this; they feel entitled to treat you however they like, and they feel entitled to your politeness. They have likely never questioned this. The simplest way to get them to treat you better is to provide them a reason to do that. Rudeness can be a quick and relatively low-pain way of doing that.

This post is not aimed at everyone. Some people need to make an effort to be kinder and more polite. If you’re enthusiastically responding “yeah! I will be less civil,” this post is not about you. If you’re excited about being less civil, *you* probably need to make a concerted effort to be more civil. If this post makes you a little uncomfortable, it might be for you. If you are generally polite and people often violate your personal boundaries, this post is for you.

You have to remember own health and well-being is a higher priority than being civil to people who seek to undermine it. You do not owe civility to people scream at, assault, or otherwise abuse you. You do not owe empathy to people who question your right to exist or your right to make space for yourself. You do not owe good faith to people who try to deceive or gaslight you. Those people are not being civil and have thus not earned your civility.

You’re allowed to stand up for yourself. People who tell you otherwise forfeit your courtesy.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

If You Don’t Like Who You’re Becoming, You Owe it to Yourself to Leave

There’s an adage about abusive relationships: “abuse makes you a worse version of yourself.”

The adage refers to intimate partners abuse, but in my experience, it’s almost universally true for people in any type of abusive relationship (romantic, familial, occupational, organizational) are not proud of what they’re doing. If you ask people with in abusive intimate partnerships whether they’re treating their partner the way they’d ideally like to treat a partner, they will usually say no. If you ask someone in an abusive job whether they feel good about the work they did today, they will say no. Abuse saps your energy with nigh-endless stream of meaningless bullshit and fights that, ultimately, don’t matter to the abuser (that’s deliberate - it keeps you too exhausted to put up a fight on the things the abuser *does* care about). Abuse forces you to choose between underhanded tactics and bad results.

The opposite is true of great relationships. Great intimate partners, friends, and family members will encourage you to do things you are proud of doing. Treating them honestly and kindly will be the best way to get what you want from the relationship. Great jobs and volunteer organization will remind you that the work you do is valuable, and will encourage you to give your best.

Ultimately, I believe the best indicator of any relationship is how, when you step back, you feel about how you are behaving in it. A good relationship brings out your best, a bad one shows your worst, and a mediocre one has mediocre effects (or none at all). It can be really difficult to say “I don’t like the way I’m being treated.” It might be easier to recognize when you’re consistently falling short of your own standards; even when it’s not the result of abuse, it’s not a good sign. When you notice that happening, you owe it to yourself to leave (and try to forgive yourself after you do). You deserve to be treated well, but even more fundamentally, you deserve the opportunity to do things and behave in ways you’re proud of.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

Don’t Be Too Quick to Cry Gaslighting

Gaslighting is the act of manipulating someone into doubting their perception, memory, or sanity by contradicting their stated factual beliefs.

Gaslighting is effective because human memory is fallible and plastic. Stress affects our memories. Anger affects our memories. We alter them every time we recall them. We keep what we perceive as important pieces of any given event, and discard the rest. Two people can have very different recollections of the same event.

Most of the time, when someone says “this is what happened” and another person replies “that isn’t what happened at all,” both people are acting honestly and in good faith. Most people, on some level, recognize the fallibility of human memory, which is why the response to “that’s not what happened” is often “perhaps I misremember.” Gaslighters take advantage of this, but it is still the case that, when two people disagree on the facts, the most common reason is they remember differently.

Another trick gaslighters will use, especially for events where they were not present, is skepticism (“that’s preposterous! That could never have happened.”). Skepticism, also, does not necessarily indicate gaslighting. Skepticism is itself a tool for protecting oneself from misinformation and manipulation. Everyone should try to be kind about how we express skepticism. Before expressing skepticism, ask “was it difficult or risky for this person to tell me this story? Are they making themself vulnerable by telling it?” If the answer is yes, keep your skepticism to yourself. When you do express skepticism, try phrases like “I’m surprised to hear that” or “that’s not something I would have expected” and avoid phrases like “that’s ridiculous” or “you’re imagining things.” Still, the cause of hurtful skepticism is more often insensitivity than gaslighting.

“Gaslighting,” like “emotional labor,” is one of the useful concepts du jour. Unlike “emotional labor,” “gaslighting” fosters a belief of bad faith whenever it’s used. “Gaslighting” describes a bad behavior that most people have experienced at some point in their lives, but, when used as an accusation against people who are not gaslighting, it undermines constructive conflict resolution. At the very worst, accusations of gaslighting are an abuse tactic that leaves victims afraid to voice disagreement.

“Gaslighting” gives a word to a hurtful behavior, and it is a useful tool for describing that, but keep in mind that, while all tools have their uses, no tool is appropriate for all situations. Even when you don’t like what they are doing, if you assume other people are acting in good faith, you will be right more often than not.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

The Stories I Never Told

I wandered into the kink scene when I was 18. I was a small woman. I was friendly and enthusiastic. The stench of naïveté wafted off me like over-applied perfume. I drew the bad actors to me like a magnet.

They ran the gamut from the ones who came on to me aggressively and repeatedly, often in situations where it was difficult for me to leave or tell them no, but would stop if I managed to give them a hard no, to the ones who sexually assaulted me. Most of them were men two or three times my age. The only thing that made my experience different from that of most women who enter the scene like I did is I don’t know what’s good for me. I spoke up. I fought back.

Sometimes people tell how much they admire me for talking about all of the people who’ve mistreated me. I say “thank you,” but that’s not even remotely true. I’ve spoken up about maybe half of the bad actors I’ve come across. There are a lot of stories I haven’t told.

The reasons I didn’t tell any given story are varied. There are some I don’t talk about because they feel relatively minor. There are some I don’t tell because the person in them isn’t around anymore. There are a few that are just exhausting and not worth it. There’s one I doubt anyone would believe. There’s one I still think about when I masturbate (and I am deeply ashamed).

The biggest reason that I don’t tell all the stories is that I am picking my battles. If I told every story about every gross, creepy, violating, predatory, or abusive thing someone did to me in the kink scene, I would get tired long before I finished. Worse yet, some people would label me a “serial victim” (even though I was never involved with most of the people) and would stop listening. I try ration my energy and credibility for the ones who matter most – the scene leaders, the serial abusers – and hope the rest work out without my having to fight.

It isn’t possible to divide victims into “the ones who speak up” and “the ones who keep quiet.” Even the most outspoken among have untold stories. Even the quietest will speak if they have the right moment. We’re all living in a society that punishes us for speaking, and each of us is doing the best we can. Remember that before you dismiss someone for how or when they choose to speak, or whether or not they choose to speak at all.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

Encounters With Men Who Have Hurt You

You glimpse him, and a chill runs down your spine. Your heart speeds up. The blood rushes to your ears. It’s involuntary – the memory of pain is embedded somewhere deep in your nervous system. Your whole body remembers how he hurt you. Now, it’s sounding the alarm.

This is not a scene log. This is what it feels like to be at an event with someone who hurt you.

When it happens, you are stuck dealing with a part of yourself that is not exactly human; in fact, I call it the “reptile brain.” This part of you does not respond to logic or reason, because it understands only pain and fear. This part of you isn’t meant to help you make rational choices, it’s meant to keep you from getting hurt, and it does that by screaming like an injured hell-creature every time it sees danger.

“Shhh,” you whisper, trying to slow your pulse, as if the organs in your chest could understand you, “this isn’t helping.” You know he can never hurt you again because you’ve protected yourself from him. This approach will never work. The part of you reacting doesn’t understand that running won’t save you. You can remind yourself “It’s okay. I am okay.” You can explain all you want. Your reptile brain doesn’t listen.

Your body may be going through histrionics, but you can see clearly, and you see he’s afraid. Maybe he’s avoiding you. Maybe he shoots you a nervous glance every time he passes. Maybe he is weirdly friendly. However he acts, you can see you scare him. Because you don’t act like you’re afraid of him. Because he worries you could ruin him. Because you refused to play the game where you make nice and assuage his conscience, and now you’re a reminder of what he did – what sort of person he really is – and he doesn’t want a reckoning. Because he wants to forget. (You’ll never know exactly why). Because you’re still here.

You’ve done this before. He was not the first to hurt you. Most likely, he will not be the last. You’ve been betrayed and violated in a grand variety of ways, each a little different. The names change, the motives change, the story changes, but the feeling is always the same. You’ve come face-to-face with some of them. Others, you’ve ignored. Others kept their distance. You have been civil. You have been stone-faced. You have smiled. You have been exceedingly polite. You’ve stood your ground. You’re still here and you always will be.

You know all about this. You know he’s in your past. You know he can’t hurt you. You know you are strong and powerful. You know he’s afraid, too (and maybe he has more to be reason than you do). You know you’ve been through this before. You know you are okay. Everything you know doesn’t matter. Your nervous system doesn’t care.

Finally, you speak to your reptile brain – or maybe your body itself – in a language it understands. You take a deep, slow breath. Then another. Your heartbeat slows. The muscles in your stomach relax. The fear subsides. Message received: it’s okay.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

“Consent Violation” Describes the Type of Offense, not the Severity

A “consent violation” is an injury bodily autonomy or unwanted involvement in an intimate act. The reason I’m writing this essay because I see people use “this is a consent violation” (sometimes followed by an explanation of *how* this is a consent violation) to mean “this is a bad thing to do and we need to take it seriously.” This use stretches the meaning of “consent violation” to cover most hurtful things human beings do to one another. We can tell it is a definitional stretch because the people using “consent violation” need to specify that something *is* a consent violation and even explain why. 

Using “consent violation” in this way is poor use of language. The “consent ethic” (“this is okay if everyone involved agrees it is okay”) breaks down in some cases. For example, is it okay for two men to kiss in public? According to the consent ethic, if a homophobic person is present, the answer is “no.” The homophobe does not consent to watching two men kiss; one could even make an argument that their continuing to kiss despite the homophobes protestations is a “consent violation”. I think most of us would agree that it is ethical for the two men to kiss anywhere it is generally acceptable for two people to kiss, regardless of who is watching. Most bad things humans can do to one another can be twisted into the framework of “consent violation,” but so can many things that are acceptable – or even good – to do.

We also should not need to contort any harmful action into a “consent violation” before it is taken seriously. It is possible for an abusive relationship to involve no consent violation. Imagine a relationship that involves no touching, sexual or otherwise, but is fraught with emotional or financial abuse; that relationship is still abusive, that abuse is still bad, and I would still want the abuser banned from any event I run or attend. Many racist, misogynist, and otherwise bigoted incidents – for example, an event with a pattern of not featuring minority presenters – are difficult to describe in terms of consent violation. I think we can all agree that bigotry is bad without someone having to figure out how to put it in terms of consent violation. 

Using “consent violation” as a synonym for “bad thing one person did to another that we must take seriously” hamstrings our ability to see nuance in consent violations. All forms of sexual assault are consent violations, but so are actions like brushing someone’s shoulder by accident or thoughtlessly having a D/s interaction somewhere designated a non-play “social space” and everything in between. While those latter two examples certainly can cause people significant discomfort or even evoke trauma, they are also easy to do and most of us have done similar things without noticing. Obviously, all consent violations are bad and it would be best if no consent violation ever happened, but that does not mean any “consent violation” is extremely bad and needs to lead to a ban.

We need to stop using “consent violation” as our gold standard for when something is wrong. That isn’t what “consent violation” means, and treating it as though it does lessens our ability to understand and articulate why harmful things are wrong and to respond to them accordingly. It allows us to give justifications for why reasonable actions are wrong and to conflate sexual assault with more minor violations. There are a lot of ways to do wrong, which require an equal number of ways to respond; we are doing ourselves no favors by shoving them all in one box.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

Should You Tell Off That Asshole?

This is an essay to help you decide if you want to tell off that *that asshole.* You know the one. The one occasionally crosses your social sphere and consistently pushes your boundaries. The one who keeps touching your arms and shoulders even though you always recoil and never reciprocate (and have maybe even said “please stop touching me” once or twice). The one who describes kinks (or whatever else) as if they are interactions that will take place between the two of you at some point in the future. The one who keeps bringing up a topic that you’ve specifically requested the two of you never discuss. Again, you know the type.

First, ask yourself what you hope to accomplish by telling off the asshole. There are three, broadly speaking, three motives people have for telling the asshole off: 1) to feel better, 2) to make the asshole stop bothering them specifically, and 3) to make the asshole stop doing the bad behavior in general.

It’s really tempting to say your motive is #3, which feels like the most “noble” one. I would urge you to dig a little deeper – I suspect you’ll find you have a mixture of the three. I want to reassure you that it is *100% okay* to tell off the asshole in the rudest, least accommodating if it will make you feel even a little bit better or because you just want the asshole to go away. We live in a culture that tells us to be polite and avoid imposing, even when the reason we’re doing that is because someone else has been rude and disrespectful to us. Tell the asshole off if it will make you even a little bit happier; think of it as restoring equilibrium.

If your goal is to be left alone, calling the asshole an asshole, with as many insults or elaborations as you prefer, will likely do the trick. Assholes thrive on politeness the way raccoons thrive on open trashcans, and confronting or insulting them is like setting the trashcan on fire. If you are telling off the asshole to make yourself feel better, only you can decide what will make you feel best (I would, however, recommend starting with biting insults). Find things you will enjoy saying, regardless of how the asshole responds. The asshole will, most likely, respond, and that response will almost certainly include defensiveness or the word “bitch.”

If an important goal is to have the asshole stop (or, at least, lessen) the asshole behavior more generally, things get a much trickier. Getting someone to change their overall behavior is much more difficult than getting them to leave you alone; If the asshole doesn’t stop bothering you after one telling-off, you should give up on seeing any generalized behavioral change, because it isn’t going to happen without the intervention of a higher power.

If you are aiming for broader behavioral changes, these are the three things you should try to accomplish with whatever you say to the asshole: 1) communicate that the behavior is bad and needs to change, 2) leave minimal room for argument, 3) require as little effort from you as possible. The reason for the third goal is two-fold: first, in trying to get behavioral change, you are playing a numbers game, and you don’t want to sink many resources into something that is unlikely to happen (and is not your responsibility to make happen), second, the only things assholes like more than politeness is attention, so you should strive not to give them any. Note also that your goals do *not* include explaining the specifics of *why* the behavior is bad and making sure the asshole understands you correctly.

The ideal message for eliciting behavioral change is “You don’t respect my boundaries and I no longer wish to interact with you” (ideally delivered in writing so you do not need to so much as acknowledge the asshole’s reaction), followed by *rigid* enforcement of that boundary. Block them on messaging and social media platforms where that is possible; ignore any messages, public or private, where you can’t. If they try to interact with you face to face, say “I’ve already told you I don’t want to interact with you” (add “please respect that” if you feel like being polite) and walk away. Doing this will upset the asshole more than even the most biting insult. The asshole really, really wants this to be an interpersonal problem that the two of you could/need to work out together or, failing that, you being unreasonable; these are excuses for the asshole to avoid self-reflection. You need to deny the asshole any opportunity to drag you into that narrative. The asshole created this problem alone and needs to be forced to deal with it alone.

Confronting an asshole, no matter how you go about it, takes courage and energy. It’s important to remember that you don’t owe the asshole anything; you could simply cut the asshole off from interaction with you, no confrontation required. You definitely don’t owe the asshole a confrontation that’s comfortable for them, or even one they fully understand, or even one that will eventually make the asshole a better person; comfort, understanding, and becoming a better person are the asshole’s responsibility, not yours. What you do owe yourself is doing whatever is best for your long term happiness and peace of mind.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

Just Because it’s not Harassment, Consent Violation, nor Abuse Doesn’t Mean You Can Do It

This goes without saying: abuse is egregiously bad behavior. It follows that there are behaviors which are not abuse but are still quite bad. It is possible, even if what you do is not abuse, to treat your partner in shitty ways.

Consent violations are a specific type of way to treat another person badly. A consent violation is a violation of someone’s personal or bodily autonomy. Harassment is another specific way of treating another person badly. Harassment is a consistent behavior toward another person with the intention of causing them discomfort.

The reason I’m talking about these three together are those are the types of bad behavior to which most communities and events have established a response. If you experience abuse, consent violation, or harassment, you can report it to event organizers, who may ban someone from the event over it. There are quite a few actions that are not ones that we would consider reporting to an event organizer, but are nonetheless awful.

A few examples:

- Taking on one or many emotionally-intense relationships of the variety that foster emotional dependence when you do not actually have the time, energy, or will to sustain.

- Letting a relationship continue after you’ve checked out of it emotionally because you’re unwilling to give up something it provides you with something you’re unwilling to give up (such as sex, emotional support, fancy dates, kink fulfillment, not-being-single).

- Insisting you and your partner work through disagreements, to their fullest conclusion, immediately after they come up; having no way to “tap out” of an intense conversation.

- Deliberately avoiding or outright refusing to have intense conversations that are important to your partner.

- Consistently neglecting chores or other things one has agreed to do.

- Cheating on your partner (I define “cheating” as “knowingly violating the relationship agreement you have made with your partner regarding relationships with other people.” Cheating is any violation of those agreements, sexual, emotional, or otherwise).

- Many, many others

Many of these are often present in abusive dynamics, but none, on their own, constitute abuse. They are still selfish and bad things to do. Likewise, none of these are harassment and none are consent violations. One can call just about anything a consent violation because “I didn’t consent to be treated that way”; overextending the consent ethic in this way eventually causes it to break down. The consent ethic is not universal (for example, it is acceptable to interact with bigots in ways that deliberately make them uncomfortable) and should not be treated as if it is.

My point is that we cannot divide behavior into “should be reported” and “perfectly acceptable.” There is a vast gulf of behavior in between those two lines, and that behavior causes people on the receiving end a great deal of pain.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

You Were Nicer When There Was a Chance We Might Fuck

Most people will treat you differently when they are trying to get into your pants (or on a date with you). There’s nothing innately wrong with that; if you think about that, you probably do it, too. There’s a certain level of excitement and affection people lavish on those to whom they are attracted. That particular flavor of attention doesn’t often extend to fully-platonic friends.

I recommend making peace with that. There are a lot of people you’ll want to fuck and end up not fucking (or will fuck, but then stop fucking) who will also be great friends. They are not going to treat you the same way they did when there was a decent chance the two of you would wind up in bed together sometime in the near future, but that is okay. That level of attention is exhausting.

Sometimes, though, the change will be more dramatic. It won’t be a normal change from potential-partner-treatment to friend-treatment, it will be a change from treating you well (or at least decently) to treating you badly. There is a difference. It’s normal for someone to need some space after rejection or romantic disappointment. It’s reasonable for them to be cold, but not cruel, disrespectful, or hurtful.

If someone realizes you are not going to fuck them and starts treating you badly, they are not a friend you want to have. Either they cannot handle the bitterness of rejection or disappointment or this is simply how they treat their friends, which you never saw because they were on their best behavior around you. With these “friends,” be thankful you are not fucking them and let them go.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

A Guide to Recognizing When You are Not Contributing to the Conversation

The majority of comments in the majority of conversations are at least a little bit constructive and helpful; the ones that really aren’t helping are the outliers. That’s why this guide focuses on recognizing when your comments are not contributing.

Here are some signs you are not contributing:

1. You wish this conversation had never started (To clarify: not in the “I wish we did not need to discuss this” sense, but in the “everything is fine, this conversation is a waste of time” sense). If you don’t think the conversation is worth having, there’s a pretty high likelihood that you do not understand or misunderstand the issue at the center of the conversation, and are thus not capable of contributing to a conversation about it. There’s also some chance you are unconsciously making comments intended to put a stop to the conversation. If you comment with the express purpose of having the conversation stop, you are, by definition, not contributing.

2. You have a rigid idea of what the result of the conversation should be. This is especially true if that result is “everyone agrees with what I say and does exactly what I want.” If you have a result you want and that’s the only thing you are after, you’re not engaging in a conversation, you’re trying to railroad everyone into agreeing with you. Get off the soapbox.

3. The problem being discussed is something that is unlikely to apply to you. For example: are you a white person looking at a conversation about racism? Or a person without ovaries in a conversation about menstruation? It is not impossible for someone who does not have direct experience to contribute to a conversation, but it is much more difficult. The majority of the time, the person with more experience in a given area is right about it. You will need to do a fair amount of research because you don’t have a background for the conversation and you should do a lot more listening than talking. You also lack the visceral understanding of the pain caused by the issue, so you are at risk of unfairly minimizing it. Tread carefully.

4. Your comments are much longer than all of the others. Why is everyone else so much more efficient at making their points than you are? If others in the conversation are able to make their points in shorter comments, it is unlikely the topic warrants the number of words you want to use. Consider whether some, or even all, of what you’re saying is actually irrelevant. longwinded answers waste time and prevent constructive discussion from happening, which, again, is the opposite of contributing. Get to the point.

5. You make the same comments regardless of what others say or you’ve written your comments without fully reading/hearing anyone else’s (note this is not the same as thinking about what you want to say ahead of time and anticipating rebuttals). Part of having a conversation is engaging in an exchange of ideas. If you know what you’re going to say before you know what the other person is saying, you’re not engaging in exchange of ideas, you’re spewing your own ideas out like a drunken teenager. This is still true even if you skim/sort-of listen to others’ viewpoints. Engage with new ideas.

6. What you say is very hurtful to others in the conversation. Consider whether you can still make your point without insulting or hurting anyone else (by, for example, implying that they are stupid, gullible, or weak for having the opinions they do). If you can’t, consider why not. Most thoughtful arguments stand on their own without the need for cruelty. Some comments, by their very nature, will hurt feelings; see if you can phrase those to minimize the hurt. Have compassion.

7. Other people in the conversation tell you that you aren’t contributing. Keep in mind telling others they are not contributing can also be a silencing tactic. That said, If someone feels the need to comment on it, it is at least worth considering. Listen to others.

None of these are guarantees that you are not contributing, and the fact that you aren’t doing any of these is no guarantee you are. Still, these are good things to watch out for. Making unhelpful and unconstructive comments wastes everyone’s time—including yours. I believe your time and energy is too valuable to be wasted derailing discussions; you should too.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

It’s a Good Thing “I Love You” has Already been Written

Have you ever seen me try to express my feelings? Likely no, because I try to avoid doing it in front of other people. I am very bad at it. I can barely structure sentences. I stumble along at three or four words per minute, punctuated by staccato gestures and apologetic facial expressions.

Maybe you’re objecting that you have seen me talk eloquently about feelings. I’m sure you’ve seen me talk eloquently about something. I can give a hell of a speech, but if it’s romantic and sounds good, it’s mostly bullshit. I’ve written well about my (sincere) feelings, but in that case, the written word (and the ability to revise, proofread, and hide exactly how much I’m stuttering and stammering) is my friend.

My feelings are a rollercoaster without seatbelts, onto which I am barely clinging. My emotions throw me to the ground with the force of a thousand radioactive gorillas. They knock me breathless against whatever surface is convenient. They overload my personal cache. They are massive, intense, and wild. I can barely handle, let alone express, them.

I am ceaselessly grateful that the phrase “I love you” already exists. When I feel what “I love you” means, I am incoherent. If I had to come up with the phrase on my own, I would never utter it. I wouldn’t be able to formulate it. The immensity of the feeling expressed by those three words (three!) is so beyond me that I cannot even begin to parse it. I do not even have a starting point for the process of deconstructing and reconstructing meaning required to translate pure feeling into language.

It’s a miracle that anyone managed to put the phrase “I love you” together. It’s a miracle that the word love—broad and sloppy and inadequate as it is—exists at all. Yet here those words and phrases are, and I can babble them out when my language-processing center all but fails me. I am floored at how lucky I am that love and language exist in the way they do. I am grateful. I’m in love.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

Beware Bad Kissers

Bad kissers use their tongues to leave you gagging. Bad kissers will make your tonsils feel examined on a clinical level. Bad kissers leave their saliva all over your face and neck. Bad kissers will mash their lips against your lips like they wish your lips would get out of their way.

Bad kissers don’t care if you enjoy it. If you have fun kissing a bad kisser, it’s pure coincidence (and you probably won’t). A person with zero interest in showing you a good time usually won’t. Bad kissers will treat you like an object and take what they want from you, but not in a fun, sexy way; it will be more of a this-is-not-intense-enough-to-be-painful-just-uncomfortable-and-awkward-and-they’re-ignoring-every-indication-I-just-want-them-to-stop way.

Bad kissers are going to kiss exactly the way they kiss. Bad kissers won’t adjust their approach when you say it doesn’t work for you or it makes you unhappy. Bad kissers resent that you even asked; they wish you would stop talking so they can shove their tongues back down your throat.

Bad kissers cannot even spite-kiss you correctly. When they kiss with spite, their spite will be directed at someone watching. Spite-kissing is not the most intimate form of kissing, but if you want to do it, your spite should be directed at the person whose lips are between your teeth.

You can tell the difference between a bad kisser and an inexperienced one. An inexperienced kisser might kiss badly because they are clumsy and haven’t developed finesse, but that will come with practice. An inexperienced kisser might kiss badly because they’ve only seen bad kissers, so they think that’s just how kissing is supposed to be. The important difference is the inexperienced kisser is not permanently a bad kisser. An inexperienced kisser will improve if you tell them you don’t like what they’re doing – they might even improve if you don’t, because they have empathy and may pick up on non-verbal signals.

It is not lack of technique, lack of experience, lack of love, or lack of passion that makes a bad kisser, it is lack of care. A bad kisser does not care about you. A bad kisser doesn’t care if you have fun. A bad kisser doesn’t care what you think. A bad kisser doesn’t care that it’s you, specifically, there kissing them at all.

Beware bad kissers, because when the kissing stops, they’re just bad. They don’t appreciate you, but even worse, you don’t appreciate them; they don’t give you anything to appreciate. Their tongues do not deserve your molars. Their saliva does not deserve your lips. Their actions don’t deserve your attention. You deserve better.

Make out with people who kiss you in ways you like.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

Why I’m Sad About the Essay I Can’t Publish

“Dear Cheating Asshole” begins an essay I will not publish. It’s one of the best essays I have ever written, but it airs what I consider an unconscionable amount of dirty laundry. I’m pretty annoyed about that; it is a phenomenal essay and I want to show it to lots of people.

I think my writing is pretty good most of the time; occasionally, I hit it out of the park with an essay. I strike a nerve. The tangled thought come together in a coherent, linear structure. When I publish these, people message me to tell me they read what I wrote and it made them feel less alone. These are an order of magnitude better than my usual fare. They are special and I can’t crank them out on command.

This is why it pains me to have one and not publish it. There is a balance of intimacy and privacy when I write for the internet. Writing on the internet is meaningless if I can’t foster some intimacy with anyone who bothers to read me. On the other hand, I value my privacy and, more to the point, I care about preserving other’s privacy. There isn’t much place for modesty in a good essay; softening the details and hiding the things that will embarrass someone weaken it.

What I get out of a good essay is not the satisfaction of reading over and thinking “damn, I am a good writer.” I certainly enjoy that feeling, but it’s fleeting. I need to share an essay in order to feel its most meaningful results. I also enjoy hearing other people say “damn, you are a good writer” (which happens occasionally), but even that is fleeting compared to “this made me feel less alone.”

I want to know when I’ve helped you feel less alone, because that means I, too, am less alone. If your experience parallels mine to the point where, possibly without even having met you, I can write about it and write about it in a way that feels honest and insightful, then we are together in a way. We are together in having that experience. That’s just about as profound and beautiful a human connection as I’ve experienced.

For all that I choose to be away from people, for all that I am introverted and solitary and strange, for all that I’m often the girl alone in the corner or on the bus or on the roof, I want human connection. I do experience loneliness; I experience it acutely. What I hunger for most often is the opportunity to connect, to care, to find meaning in the endless and intertwined lives that exist in this universe.

“Dear Cheating Asshole” begins this one essay, but I don’t care if that person ever reads it. I could more accurately start it “Dear Internet Friends.” That unwritten line begins every single essay I even think about publishing here. It’s a statement of intent, of purpose: when I write, I write to you.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

They Don’t Value You, But You Are Valuable

There’s a unique cocktail of emotions you feel when you realize just how little someone you loved valued you. It’s a heady blend of shock and hurt (or anger, which is just hurt in a sharp suit and a nice pair of heels). It’s hard to process how much they meant to you in tandem with the realization you were little more than a warm body to fill a friend, lover, or child-shaped hole in their life.

Maybe that pain turns back on you and you start to blame yourself. You wonder why they didn’t appreciate you. Maybe if you were cleverer, or in better shape, or more aggressive, or just better in all of the ways you want to be better, they would have. You think “I just wasn’t enough for them. If I had been better, they would have… “

It’s actually much worse than that.

They probably won’t ever regret not appreciating you. Even if you were the ideal version of yourself - the you that you aspire to be - they still wouldn’t miss you. Even if you become everything you’ve ever wanted to be, they still won’t look back wistfully and see what they lost. They might even want you less, which makes sense; if they don’t appreciate you now, why would they appreciate the you who is more you? It is not that they failed appreciate you, it’s that they are incapable*of appreciating you. That’s the real reason they never will.

Fuck ‘em. You are not for them.

The person the person you want to be - the person you are - is for you. Your beliefs will determine what you stand for. Your values will determine how you grow. Your needs will determine the shape you become. The person you are is meant to satisfy you and you alone.

There are people who truly appreciate you (even if you haven’t met them yet). There are people who will appreciate who you are. They will appreciate how you think. They will appreciate the strength of your convictions. They will appreciate your specific humor. They will appreciate the heights of your joy and depths of your sorrow. They will appreciate the nooks and crannies of who you are. They will appreciate beyond the needs you fill for them.

You aren’t for those people either. In the processes of becoming someone you are proud of, someone you believe is good, if you stay open to meaningful connection with others, it is inevitable that others will appreciate you, but their appreciation is incidental. You have value. Your specific beliefs and the actions you take have value, and that value is for you. When you end up becoming yourself, you’ll be someone you can appreciate - that’s what really matters.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

Quality of Pain

Pain is like vodka – whether it’s the good stuff or the bad stuff, you’ll feel it. The difference between good and bad is how it goes down.

Good vodka goes down smooth. Bad vodka burns the back of your throat; a shot of it leaves you coughing. Pain is like that, too. Pain has quality, and the quality of pain makes a vast difference in how you experience it.

Bad pain – pain that comes from violation or betrayal – burns. It creates twisting, wrenching, almost nauseated feeling in the pit of your stomach. It leaves you coughing or gasping for breath.

There is another type of pain – the pain that comes from the end of a good relationship, the death of a loved one, or the loss of anything cherished. This type of pain feels different from the other. It is cleaner. Smoother. It lacks the jagged edges that tear into other parts of you on its way through.

Both of these will cause you the same quantity of pain. They both hurt, often a lot. The difference is not in how much they hurt, but in the quality. The latter is a higher quality of pain.

The quality of pain affects how you heal. The jagged parts of low-quality pain cause secondary injuries. Betrayal may harm your ability to trust. Violation may injure your comfort in your own body. Callousness may weaken your faith in the goodness of those around you. You may need to put in effort to help the jagged injuries heal properly. The highest quality pain injuries leave with an almost surgical precision. They will heal cleanly, so long as you do not aggravate them. The downside is there is not much you can do to help them heal, other than wait.

The distinguishing characteristic of the highest quality pain is the lack of fault. Even when every person is treating every other person as well as possible, even when all are perfectly caring and perfectly respectful, this type of pain happens. This type of pain is inevitable. At the end, you cannot truthfully say “if you had been better...” or “if I had been better... this would not have happened.” Someone may be the source of this pain, but it was not their fault.

I believe high quality pain, like quality alcohol, is worth appreciating, in spite of the misery it will cause you. Such pain is an unavoidable result of cherishing things; it will come, heal, and fade at it’s own pace. The only choice I have is in how I react, so I choose to cherish the pain as well. It is a way of celebrating the good things that brought it to me. It is a way of remembering there is love and goodness behind this hurt.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

Resolve to be More Selfish

(A New Year’s Post)

This year, be more selfish.

Pursue the things you want. Ask people who interest you for their time and attention. Say no to the ones that do not excite you, chase the ones that do.

This year, discuss what interests you. Bring your thoughts to the table. Ignore the minutiae. Change the subject. Do not listen to people tell you what you already know. Interrupt the people who interrupt you. Remind them you were speaking. Remind them your thoughts are worth speaking.

This year, take what you need. Sleep until you are no longer tired. Drink when you are thirsty. Eat when you need to eat. Stretch when you’re wound too tightly. Rest when you are exhausted. Leave situations that harm you, even when others beg you to stay.

This year, demand your feelings be respected. Express your boundaries. Enforce your boundaries. Push back on people who push you. Know you are worth the love of people who respect you. Leave the people who do not. Do not swallow your sadness. Do not leave your anger smoldering in the pit. Express your pain. Know your pain is worth expressing.

This year, interact in the ways that excite you. Follow your impulses. Act on your desires. Please yourself. Do not worry about being an experience. Move on from the people whose wants will not mesh with your wants. Ignore feelings of obligation. Remember you are a human, not a haunted house.

This year, touch your partners in the ways you want to touch them. Make them enjoy the touches you want to give. Enjoy their bodies, their movements, their expressions. Bite them, if it helps. Wrestle them into your preferred positions. Wrap your legs around them. Put their body parts in your mouth.

This year, let yourself fail. Let yourself be wrong. Care way too much. Move past your failures. Grow from your mistakes. Hurt the people you care about. Ask forgiveness. Remember that the people around you are stronger than your fuck-ups. Let yourself be forgiven.

This year, give yourself permission to be everything the seasonal zeitgeist says you shouldn’t. Ignore the words like “selfish,” “stubborn,” “aggressive,” “needy,” and “demanding” when what they really mean is “put yourself last.” You should be a higher priority than anyone who tries to guilt-trip you. This year, be selfish – value yourself.

[unbuildingthelabyrinth-blog]

You’re Allowed to Mourn the Loss of People who Never Existed

Sometimes, I log into an alternate social media account and look at pictures of the man who raped me.

Why do I do this? It reminds me of the person I thought he was – the techie weirdo who shared my drive to take things apart, figure out how they worked, and build new things and to explore the often-overlooked pieces of the world. Someone who could keep up with me in ways few people can. I liked that person a lot.

Then I think about he hurt so many people, many of whom are dear to me. I remind myself of one of the most extreme, most nauseatingly reprehensible stories. I feel my stomach turn and I feel the fury rise in my veins. I keep this up until I have to look away.

Why the hell do I do this? To remind myself that my judgement is not good – a person I really like can do terrible things. I focus on the positives in people, which can lead to my overlooking their flaws. In the worst cases, it can lead to my lying to myself about the type of person they are. Reminding myself that I found a way to like the single most heinous human I have ever met also reminds me that any person I was fond of may not really be the person I imagined. They might be nowhere close.

Sometimes, the hardest part of letting go of a person is letting go of the person I thought they were. The hardest part is recognize the person of whom I need to let go never existed. I don’t believe I am alone in this; it is fundamentally human to find ways to like one another, to focus on goodness and overlook flaws.

It’s okay to mourn the people the loss of people you never had in the first place. It is okay to grieve for the partner who turned out to be a weaker person than you believed. It is okay to lament the honorable community leader who turns out to be an abuser. You have still lost the person you thought you knew; through your eyes, the world contains one less noble person. You are allowed to mourn that.

The process of mourning should lead you to acceptance. Once you are done grieving, you must accept the world as it is. You must choose how to proceed in the world that unquestionably lacks the person you mourned; bringing that person back is just as impossible as bringing back the dead.

You will reach the point where you can accept and move forward. In the mean time, it is okay to mourn, however and whatever you need to.

*****

NB: I am not currently grieving over a the man who raped me (that wound has healed), I’m using him as a point of comparison. He is the most extreme example of my liking someone who did not deserve to be liked. Every time I miss someone I am better off without, it helps to remind myself just how large the difference between the person I believed in and the real one can be.