I apologize. If I step into a streetlight--and I can cold sober--I will say "sorry" to it. I make a lot of jokes about how often I say sorry but really it's not funny. My friends and family consider it to be an endearing but horrible trait. Other people consider it license to trash me and say "yes you were wrong, stop it!."
I know my tendency to apologize is a result of undiagnosed nonverbal learning disorder (NLD) and it should have gotten better since my diagnosis but sorry....(OK that was the worst non-joke I have ever told.)
Seven years ago last summer I began a blog. I had no idea what I was doing nor did I know anything about blogging. I thought it would be a good place to practice writing. I didn't realize people actually read blogs. Nor did I realize that people were looking for new bloggers with different voices.
I wish I could say out of Courting Destiny came a mini-empire. That would be a blatant lie. However Courting received much blogosphere attention and within six months mainstream media discovered us. It was very exciting to be a cover story, the center of a group interview and more.
When I was little I used to get up before six every morning so I could read the encyclopedia and know everything! I finally realized that it was my father's childhood encyclopedia and the world had changed drastically since World War One. Yes, my parents realized that too and got a new one. I read it with equal vigor.
I love to read and fortunately have NLD Version 3.0 that affects visual/spatial and organizational aspects of life not reading comprehension. I don't see myself as others see me and generally in my off the Internet life have judged myself much more harshly than others do. I judge myself very harshly because I think others do yet I expect to be liked. A paradox I don't yet understand. I care more about other people's happiness than I do my own and think that's one of my biggest problems.
When I began my blog I wrote mostly personal stories about my life in New York during the 1970's and 1980's because I did live a life many people dreamed about and I took for granted. I wrote family stories about my childhood, and even wrote truly bad poetry.
I read more and more blogs. I had been a Claims Rep for Social Security which was written a lot about then. I noticed that much of the information wasn't true so I began writing about Social Security and then my experiences working for SSI. Because everybody should work in the South Bronx during crack/drive-by shooting days.
I am a political junkie. I wrote about politics. I did a lot of research and learned about the radical right. I come from a family where different people have different views and we would sit at the dining room table yelling about politics. Holidays were especially fun at our house in part because of the spirited discussions. Everyone was respectful of each others views.
People began writing about how my political posts captured the spirit of dining room table discussions and I thank them. Other people weren't so respectful. I was naive and would comment on radical right posts. I quickly learned that they would change posts and/or comments to make mine look ignorant. Whole blogs were set up to diss me. I stopped commenting on "unfriendly" blogs but people would attack me anyway.
I wrote for a political blog while I kept Courting going. I quickly found that the people on my political blog loved nothing more than to see a member of the radical right attack me. I would fight back with facts but they didn't matter as I'm a "moral relativist." I did find that funny and began calling myself one as often as possible.
What I didn't find funny was the lack of communication with other blog group members. My best friend, Lucia, would tell me "email knows no nuances," but I didn't grasp that concept for awhile. I realized that I did better face to face. But I also thought that there must be something wrong with me if I couldn't grasp simple emails; I was convinced I was suffering from early onset dementia. Now I do understand that many people lack nuances in their writing.
Meanwhile I made many great friends in the larger personal blogging world. One guy, who became a close friend, and I were always apologizing to each other. I began email subject lines with "sorry,oh so sorry." One day I got a card in the mail. It was the first musical card I had ever seen and yes played Patsy Cline/Brenda Lee's great song, "I'm sorry."
This inability to communicate with many people in email, and a general feeling of being overwhelmed led me to begin looking for answers to my problems again. I was consumed by blogging and felt that I had to answer any comment I received on my political blog. I refused to moderate comments on my personal blog and that led me to being blackballed from a then prestigious blogging group.
Other people found blogging to be personally rewarding and fun. I found it to be torture. I loved to write and comment on some personal blogs but I liked my comments to have some depth and couldn't keep up with more than 25-50 blogs a week. If somebody commented you were supposed to return the comment; blogging etiquette 101. Some people commented on hundreds of blogs, or sent one line emails that I found to be disrespectful. I preferred the people who did nothing. At least they were honest. And I love and encourage lurkers who I call "readers" because they are.
The personal attacks kept coming. One night I wrote a story about a friendship between an older woman and younger man. There was nothing sexual about it. Yet I came home from the dentist in much pain and to a comment that said "you lack a moral and ethical center...." Yes it went on. I was in a lot of pain and saved painkillers for bedtime. My dentists prescribed writing about the radical right as somehow anger took the pain away. This was a full frontal attack. A part of me wanted to cry; another part of me wanted to get even. I answered that comment; how dare he say that because I wasn't married and was childless I was worthless. He got about a hundred people to reinforce his stance. The attacks went on until the political climate began changing and the radical right no longer ruled the blogosphere.
When I found out about NLD I was confused. Shouldn't I have shone in comments, and anything written? There was so much I was confused about. And I couldn't find help! Courting became a pitiful shell of its former glorious self as I begged for anybody with any knowledge of NLD to come to my rescue. Or at least have some answers.
I slowly realized that I have big problems with sequencing or putting things in proper order and that might have made me, my comments and even my formerly very popular posts difficult to understand
Facebook became big and I finally discovered Facebook groups on NLD. They were to be my salvation as I met incredible people I'm proud to share a disorder with. Some would also become a giant thorn sticking into my soul. Unfortunately a characteristic of my NLD seems to be a need to answer--even when a person makes three comments in a row making fun of me. I'm trying to learn to ignore them.
I come off too strongly at times. I want everybody to be happy but have learned the hard way I can't solve their problems. Though I'm a clinical social worker I won't give advice on the Internet but relate personal experiences.
I don't think I own NLD; I own my NLD. And saying "sorry" or apologizing when other people would be proud of their comments tends to get me into big trouble.
© 2011 Pia Savage
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