Whats_your_reasoning

I get that, for my parents’ generation at least. But I’m the weirdo autistic chick that lives multiple “alternative lifestyles” simultaneously.

I don’t go to the church I was baptized in, because I’m atheist. I don’t eat the food my culture cooks, because I’m vegan. I’m a pansexual who practices polyamory. I don’t share my parents’ values, nor those of my ancestral culture.

Which is partly why I gel better with people who don’t share the “dominant” culture around us (in the US.) I get along with others who’ve been marginalized, who don’t “fit in,” who ~~want to burn down capitalism~~ have been on the “outside” for so long that we share a common bond through it. Most people I’ve dated have either been born in other countries and/or have disabilities. It makes sense for me, but from the outside it’s easy to imagine that my mom thinks I’m still “rebelling” somehow (while deep into my 30s.)

My mom refuses to admit that she’s racist.

Oh, but when I brought a black man home, she asked me afterwards, “Why do all your boyfriends have… a tan?”

Don’t worry, I let it out on her. I’m practically 100% Slavic if my brother’s DNA test is to be trusted (it lines up with the family tree I’ve got, so yeah.) I asked if she’d rather I marry a “nice Polish boy” that I have nothing in common with, like she did, like her sisters did, like her mother did. Because why should personal compatibility matter so long as our ancestries are the same?

She backed off and hasn’t made a peep about my “tan” partners ever since.

Lmao, where I live that’s par for the course.

Years before my dog passed, I sat in my bed, with her at my feet, and thought about the days she’d be gone.

I started crying. Then the little sweetheart did what little sweethearts do - she came up to me, snuggled me, and gave me kisses.

I held her and let it imprint into my mind.

When she did pass years later, I thought about that night and how she did her best to comfort me. I imagined her still doing that, if she had been here.

Her passing wasn’t easy, but having known how she reacted when I’d already thought about it made the time easier. I know she didn’t want me to be sad. She wanted to make me happy and be a supportive friend. Even in death, I could recall that one night and remember her sweetness trying to pick me up.

To this day, I carry some of her ashes in a necklace over my heart. She used to want to follow me everywhere. Now she always will.

Last year I got a portable swinging camping chair from Costco. It’s the next best thing to a rocking chair, which itself is the next best thing to a hammock. It even has a cupholder (which doesn’t swing, so you don’t have to worry about your drink spilling.)

You never know what you might find.

Oof, yeah, same. There’s too much cringe.

I also can’t stand fight scenes. They’re way too intense. The best I can do is zone out when they happen and at the end ask whoever’s watching with me, “Who won?”

It’s sad how terms get co-opted. I get it’s part of the progression of language, but it still sucks.

I soak up the feelings of those around me, but it’s not some hippie woo-woo thing. I don’t think it’s “special,” just uncontrollable empathy. I love watching game shows because I take in the excitement and happiness of the crowd/players. On the flip side, if I see someone crying, it’s hard to stay neutral, because I feel their pain without trying to.

Is it a normal human reaction? Absolutely. Do most people experience it as strongly as I do? I have no evidence either way. It could be more extreme for me, but it could also be normal - just boiling down to differences in emotional regulation.

Either way, I guess I’ll be using the old, unambiguous term “empathic.” It still works, after all, and doesn’t carry the baggage of the newer term.

Damn, as a polyamorous vegan with a pilot’s cert, I feel called out. But I wasn’t going to say anything about any of that until your comment performed a hat-trick and summoned me from the depths.

That still doesn’t make sense. Women still have to pay the same costs of living. We’re all in the same boat, trying to survive on the scraps the capitalists offer us.

I don’t have a magic “vagina pass” that makes my wage higher or rent more affordable. If I were running away from a psycho, I’d still have to somehow make ends meet while also dealing with hostile people. That’s where I get confused. Pride is one thing, but when your ability to live in society is hanging from a late-stage capitalist thread, pride is no longer the primary driver - survival itself is. Man, woman, non-binary, we’re all struggling in this same way.

How is any of that exclusive to men?

Though I agree it is somewhat of a privilege to have the time and security it takes to allow for self-actualization, that’s a struggle that a lot of us have to deal with, regardless of sex, gender, or sexual orientation.

That’s absolutely wild. Before my state started selling legal weed, I would sometimes take trips to Massachusetts to buy enough to last me for months.

The one thing I never did on those drives? Speed.

I figured I was already technically breaking the law by carrying so much weed across non-legal states. To get pulled over for speeding could’ve led to massive trouble. Why put a target on my car (beyond already having an out-of-state license plate)?

I went the other way - I meticulously watched for speed limit changes and set my cruise control accordingly, so it would be one fewer thing to worry about. When possible, I drove so there’d be a car some distance in front of me, but still within my view. That way, if there was a cop up ahead, I’d see the other car slow down first and it would give me a heads up.

Adding more distractions and driving more erratically when you’re already breaking one law is a really stupid way to get caught.

And it might sound crazy, but there are tons of people living in motels full time as well, with no more than a mini fridge and a microwave to cook with. Some of the only affordable housing out there is simply rented out bedrooms in someone else’s house - meaning a shared kitchen, complete with competition for cooking times and space.

It’s easy to say as others have and talk about it being far cheaper to make soup yourself. But the reality is, not everyone has the time, space, or equipment to do that. Having to buy ready-made food is another poor tax, in a way.