What strikes me is the expectation that one somehow needs to craft an argument for your wishes, desires and expectations. Why should anyone have to explain or apologize, write a proposal or mission statement to be allowed to exist in this world? And yet, that’s the reality. I agonize over whether or not I should monetize my Substack and if I do should I paywall some things or not, will I offend X or Y (I always have certain people in mind) and twist myself into knots over it. Insane.
You have a singular message and you put a great deal of energy and time into it. I respect and admire you, your work just leaves me in awe. It is worth far more than the amount I pay to subscribe.
It seems like the word “special” is just baked into the school ecosystem. My son teaches autistic children, but his degree is in special education. It gives him more options, but really. The term just doesn’t bestow dignity.
Anyway. Teri, I don’t know if I’m making sense here. I’m just grateful for your posts. I always look forward to seeing them in my inbox.
Thank you, Mary. I always look forward to your thoughtful comments.
In this case, I was writing in large part to try and clarify my motives to myself—as I thought the other writers had done. My struggle about the paywall is money to acknowledge my knowledge (as I appreciate that you have done) versus discouraging some readers from my content that might “need” it. (Need in the sense that there are so many people who don't realize that their health condition rises to the level of disability—which affords them the protections of civil rights.
I don't want to offend anyone either, but if I think something needs to be said, I will take that chance.
I see what you’re saying. That does make sense. I admire your forthright approach to, well, not giving a shit about who might be offended. I’m thinking of friends I’ve invited to subscribe, and because of the nature of those friendships, I don’t want to upset them. But I realized that if those people are offended, it’s their problem, not mine. I just had to make a painful choice to stop making excuses for someone who doesn’t read my Stack because - are you ready? - I write about grief, and my essays are too long. She’s a writer of fiction, we’re writing buddies, very close, and she tells me this. My instinct has always been to do everything I can to preserve a relationship, but whoa. I’m learning the wisdom of Maya Angelou: “When someone tells you who they are, believe them.” (Or maybe it’s “shows,” etc.) Anyway. Multiply that friend by ten. Now I know to keep my mouth shut about my Substack.
I hope you won’t be offended if I tell you that I was tempted to laugh when you mentioned yoou “writer” friend’s comments. Jeez.
With a couple of rare exceptions, I have intentionally not invited friends to read my substack. I post where they might see it, and I have been surprised by those who have quietly subscribed for free. My thought is that I didn't want them to feel obligated, and I didn't want to create a scenario where I am sitting and thinking, “I wonder if X read my last post.” For me, that way lies madness.
Not offended at all! I have two friends who were paid subscribers from the beginning, and they’re both incredibly supportive. Wonderful people, one with her own Substack. I invited a couple of others because they’re big fans of a website I write (haven’t updated it in a while but will soon) and I’ve written for a zine they put out. Not a single comment from them. Hmmm.
To clarify: when I wrote “ bestow dignity” I was lapsing into a thoughtless and lazy cliche. Dignity is inherent; the word “special” denigrates the people it purports to serve. I know that my son felt that way when he was in high school, in special ed. Sorry.
No worries! I meant to say in my first comment (I guess I could research this question) I don't know who decided to call education for people with disabilities “special”—but it has been thus for at least 60 years. I know the certificates for teachers are for “special education.” Maybe it could be changed to “enhanced” (which might make it sound desirable).
I appreciate so much how you’ve owned your being special. I especially think about all the intersections of your identity- not the least of which, being a woman - and how discouraged we are from speaking the truth about our positive self-estimation (I’m purposely staying away from the overused concept of self-esteem, because I think it’s been bastardized to hold very little meaning anymore).
Today I am thinking about stepping away from a few things that have been recovery related, in an effort to loosen my death grip on this overall recovery effort of mine. I’m tired and getting bored by it all, and I just want to experience the mental freedom of not thinking about it so much.
Yes! You captured it—the whole scenario, whether trying to recover or being “all that you can be”—is so boring after a while. This illness, this disability, it's like waking up with a costume on, one that you didn't choose.
I'm interested in your historical perspective. We are the same generation, and there are overlaps in our experience. My brother is the person with a severe disability no one seemed to understand, which impacted life for our whole family. He was done wrong in many ways. I'm at a place where I'm ready to start looking more at what it's all meant for all of us.
What strikes me is the expectation that one somehow needs to craft an argument for your wishes, desires and expectations. Why should anyone have to explain or apologize, write a proposal or mission statement to be allowed to exist in this world? And yet, that’s the reality. I agonize over whether or not I should monetize my Substack and if I do should I paywall some things or not, will I offend X or Y (I always have certain people in mind) and twist myself into knots over it. Insane.
You have a singular message and you put a great deal of energy and time into it. I respect and admire you, your work just leaves me in awe. It is worth far more than the amount I pay to subscribe.
It seems like the word “special” is just baked into the school ecosystem. My son teaches autistic children, but his degree is in special education. It gives him more options, but really. The term just doesn’t bestow dignity.
Anyway. Teri, I don’t know if I’m making sense here. I’m just grateful for your posts. I always look forward to seeing them in my inbox.
Thank you, Mary. I always look forward to your thoughtful comments.
In this case, I was writing in large part to try and clarify my motives to myself—as I thought the other writers had done. My struggle about the paywall is money to acknowledge my knowledge (as I appreciate that you have done) versus discouraging some readers from my content that might “need” it. (Need in the sense that there are so many people who don't realize that their health condition rises to the level of disability—which affords them the protections of civil rights.
I don't want to offend anyone either, but if I think something needs to be said, I will take that chance.
I see what you’re saying. That does make sense. I admire your forthright approach to, well, not giving a shit about who might be offended. I’m thinking of friends I’ve invited to subscribe, and because of the nature of those friendships, I don’t want to upset them. But I realized that if those people are offended, it’s their problem, not mine. I just had to make a painful choice to stop making excuses for someone who doesn’t read my Stack because - are you ready? - I write about grief, and my essays are too long. She’s a writer of fiction, we’re writing buddies, very close, and she tells me this. My instinct has always been to do everything I can to preserve a relationship, but whoa. I’m learning the wisdom of Maya Angelou: “When someone tells you who they are, believe them.” (Or maybe it’s “shows,” etc.) Anyway. Multiply that friend by ten. Now I know to keep my mouth shut about my Substack.
I hope you won’t be offended if I tell you that I was tempted to laugh when you mentioned yoou “writer” friend’s comments. Jeez.
With a couple of rare exceptions, I have intentionally not invited friends to read my substack. I post where they might see it, and I have been surprised by those who have quietly subscribed for free. My thought is that I didn't want them to feel obligated, and I didn't want to create a scenario where I am sitting and thinking, “I wonder if X read my last post.” For me, that way lies madness.
Not offended at all! I have two friends who were paid subscribers from the beginning, and they’re both incredibly supportive. Wonderful people, one with her own Substack. I invited a couple of others because they’re big fans of a website I write (haven’t updated it in a while but will soon) and I’ve written for a zine they put out. Not a single comment from them. Hmmm.
Writers.
Phone’s almost out of juice. Have a good evening.
To clarify: when I wrote “ bestow dignity” I was lapsing into a thoughtless and lazy cliche. Dignity is inherent; the word “special” denigrates the people it purports to serve. I know that my son felt that way when he was in high school, in special ed. Sorry.
No worries! I meant to say in my first comment (I guess I could research this question) I don't know who decided to call education for people with disabilities “special”—but it has been thus for at least 60 years. I know the certificates for teachers are for “special education.” Maybe it could be changed to “enhanced” (which might make it sound desirable).
I appreciate so much how you’ve owned your being special. I especially think about all the intersections of your identity- not the least of which, being a woman - and how discouraged we are from speaking the truth about our positive self-estimation (I’m purposely staying away from the overused concept of self-esteem, because I think it’s been bastardized to hold very little meaning anymore).
Today I am thinking about stepping away from a few things that have been recovery related, in an effort to loosen my death grip on this overall recovery effort of mine. I’m tired and getting bored by it all, and I just want to experience the mental freedom of not thinking about it so much.
Yes! You captured it—the whole scenario, whether trying to recover or being “all that you can be”—is so boring after a while. This illness, this disability, it's like waking up with a costume on, one that you didn't choose.
I'm interested in your historical perspective. We are the same generation, and there are overlaps in our experience. My brother is the person with a severe disability no one seemed to understand, which impacted life for our whole family. He was done wrong in many ways. I'm at a place where I'm ready to start looking more at what it's all meant for all of us.