Originally, despite the urgings of a fellow wheelchair user, I wasn't going to say anything public about this at all. It's a pretty painful subject, and I'm not really fond of talking about this stuff in public. (It's the same reason I don't post rejection stats – I never got the point of saying, "Look how many editors turned me down this month!" Everybody's mileage differs on this, of course.)
And then![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theferrett posted.
Let me tell you something about TheFerrett. Sometimes, he can get – he might disagree with this description – a little arrogant, a little cocky. Sometimes he makes me shake my head with, dude, you so did not just say that.
And sometimes he can write something that makes me say, yes. This.
So, a bit of backtrack.
Last year, I found out that our marvelous gaming group was coming to an end.
That was right at the end of what I quietly call "Cane Days." I use a wheelchair or a scooter these days, which puts, I know, an additional burden on friends who have to go up and down the stairs. I'd told the group about this, as lightheartedly as possible, but still worried, especially since most of them had met me when I was seeking a diagnosis and treatment for what then seemed to be a temporary illness. But given that a couple of them were among the ones urging me to get a wheelchair, they told me it wouldn't be a problem.
The gaming group made vague promises to keep meeting, which went as well as you might expect, especially when, a few weeks later, three members of the six people group started gaming without the rest of us.
It happens, you say. It happens. And yes, I know it does. Seen gaming groups drift apart and reform in smaller groups all the time.
Skip forward to last week, where I found that the other two members (who had actually done a much better job of maintaining contact through email and the very occasional meetup) had been invited back, but not me. It's not, I'm assured, anything about me as a player; they all thought I was excellent, wonderful and so on, and they do feel bad about this.
No, it's just that the gamemaster can only handle five players. He'd added another player in the intervening months to that group of two players. The other two gamers had been in the group longer than I have, and one of them had been the one to approach him. It wouldn't, of course, be fair to leave him out – since he'd been the one to request coming back – and it wouldn't, of course, be fair to leave the other player out, since he'd been gaming with the gamemaster for so much longer. And since he had to be unfair to someone, he would be unfair to me. Not – I'm reassured again, that it was me, or that I was a bad player, or anything of that sort. This happens. And of course, they are absolutely right – this does happen with gaming groups. Groups fill up, you don't have a space for another player.
And they are completely sincere when they say they have no space, and they were trying to be fair – or rather, as little unfair as possible.
Nonetheless, of the original group, I'm the only one not invited back.
I'm also the only one who can't drive and uses a wheelchair.
Ferrett explained things much better over here. Go read him before you come back.
**********
You can, of course, make excuses in things like this. "I really can't handle six players." "I'm not responsible for her social life." "Just looking at his skin makes me feel ill." "I'm so tired of driving her places especially since she can never pay me for gas." "I can't risk an infection." "I have kids." "He just tires me out." "Herpes? AUUGH."
And what makes it great is these excuses really are, for the most part, true. It really is harder to handle six players instead of five. (Although this strikes me as one of the weaker excuses.) You may, indeed, have felt nauseated looking at his skin. You may worry about getting AIDS or herpes or whatever. It's very easy to excuse yourself. To add that you're very busy. You have other things to think about. And what's happening to the person certainly isn't your fault. And of course, you wouldn't want it to happen to you.
It's very comforting, knowing that these excuses are absolutely correct, isn't it?
************
In related news, a friend of a friend killed herself last week in a bout of clinical depression.
She'd been told she was too clingy and demanding.
***********
I don't have an answer for this. One problem is, of course, that the disabled and those with chronic illness are caught in a major bind. If we say nothing about our problems, everyone says, "But you should have said something." But if we do say something, and try to explain our issues, we run the very real risk of being seen as just making attempts to get attention, or as chronic complainers who aren't fun to hang around with anymore. I know that I myself have been fairly guilty in recent social encounters of talking too much about my current disability issues and THE ONGOING NIGHTMARE THAT IS STATE ROAD 50, with all due apologies todragonsbane who just wanted to cheer me up. (Thanks and hugs and none of this entry is directed at you.)
Mary Robinette Kowal's recent novel, for instance, features a character of this type – no one believes her illnesses are real because she constantly complains about them, and people no longer want to spend time with her; her older daughter fears that the younger daughter is following the mother's path, what with faking injuries and enjoying the attention. Mind you, I don't think that Kowal necessarily believes this – it's right out of the Austen and Alcott tradition and helps make Kowal's world feel far more authentic, and it's absolutely what the older daughter would think. I mention it only because it's a very typical example. And typical, because it's true. People do tend to gravitate to people who complain less.
Or, you can become inundated with what I call Obvious Advice, where people cheerfully tell you to do things that you've already done or been trying to do for well over a year or that you cannot physically do for one reason or another and fail to believe you when you object to this advice, or point out that you've already tried it, and, "Oh, I'm sure something can be done about the bus." (One would indeed think that something could be done about the bus, and for what it's worth, I've been assured for months now that something is getting done about the bus. Perhaps eventually I will even see results. But this is drifting into another blog post.)
(Pretty much everyone at this point, and often before, says, "Have you thought about online gaming?" Sigh. Head thunk. Yes, yes I have, and yes, yes, I even do it. Online socialization and gaming is not the problem nor the solution here – as I've mentioned, I have plenty of online friends and games. I'm beyond grateful for its existence – I honestly don't know what I would have done this year without it – but that's not the issue here.
I do appreciate the thought, though, and I admit I threw in this bit to prevent ten comments of, "but what about [fill in online game here]")
**********
I spent a long time wondering if I should go public with this or not – it's the sort of thing I usually keep for venting at friends – but after reading Ferrett's post and the comments, I realized, it's not just me.
And maybe one of the answers is occasionally saying something.
Also, thanks, Ferrett.
**********
Addendum: one of the players involved (alas, not the guy running the game) has given me a complete and meaningful apology and is doing something about the situation. (I'm also ok with two of the others who have continued to socialize with me from time to time.)
One.
Edit: Make that two.
And then
theferrett posted.Let me tell you something about TheFerrett. Sometimes, he can get – he might disagree with this description – a little arrogant, a little cocky. Sometimes he makes me shake my head with, dude, you so did not just say that.
And sometimes he can write something that makes me say, yes. This.
So, a bit of backtrack.
Last year, I found out that our marvelous gaming group was coming to an end.
That was right at the end of what I quietly call "Cane Days." I use a wheelchair or a scooter these days, which puts, I know, an additional burden on friends who have to go up and down the stairs. I'd told the group about this, as lightheartedly as possible, but still worried, especially since most of them had met me when I was seeking a diagnosis and treatment for what then seemed to be a temporary illness. But given that a couple of them were among the ones urging me to get a wheelchair, they told me it wouldn't be a problem.
The gaming group made vague promises to keep meeting, which went as well as you might expect, especially when, a few weeks later, three members of the six people group started gaming without the rest of us.
It happens, you say. It happens. And yes, I know it does. Seen gaming groups drift apart and reform in smaller groups all the time.
Skip forward to last week, where I found that the other two members (who had actually done a much better job of maintaining contact through email and the very occasional meetup) had been invited back, but not me. It's not, I'm assured, anything about me as a player; they all thought I was excellent, wonderful and so on, and they do feel bad about this.
No, it's just that the gamemaster can only handle five players. He'd added another player in the intervening months to that group of two players. The other two gamers had been in the group longer than I have, and one of them had been the one to approach him. It wouldn't, of course, be fair to leave him out – since he'd been the one to request coming back – and it wouldn't, of course, be fair to leave the other player out, since he'd been gaming with the gamemaster for so much longer. And since he had to be unfair to someone, he would be unfair to me. Not – I'm reassured again, that it was me, or that I was a bad player, or anything of that sort. This happens. And of course, they are absolutely right – this does happen with gaming groups. Groups fill up, you don't have a space for another player.
And they are completely sincere when they say they have no space, and they were trying to be fair – or rather, as little unfair as possible.
Nonetheless, of the original group, I'm the only one not invited back.
I'm also the only one who can't drive and uses a wheelchair.
Ferrett explained things much better over here. Go read him before you come back.
**********
You can, of course, make excuses in things like this. "I really can't handle six players." "I'm not responsible for her social life." "Just looking at his skin makes me feel ill." "I'm so tired of driving her places especially since she can never pay me for gas." "I can't risk an infection." "I have kids." "He just tires me out." "Herpes? AUUGH."
And what makes it great is these excuses really are, for the most part, true. It really is harder to handle six players instead of five. (Although this strikes me as one of the weaker excuses.) You may, indeed, have felt nauseated looking at his skin. You may worry about getting AIDS or herpes or whatever. It's very easy to excuse yourself. To add that you're very busy. You have other things to think about. And what's happening to the person certainly isn't your fault. And of course, you wouldn't want it to happen to you.
It's very comforting, knowing that these excuses are absolutely correct, isn't it?
************
In related news, a friend of a friend killed herself last week in a bout of clinical depression.
She'd been told she was too clingy and demanding.
***********
I don't have an answer for this. One problem is, of course, that the disabled and those with chronic illness are caught in a major bind. If we say nothing about our problems, everyone says, "But you should have said something." But if we do say something, and try to explain our issues, we run the very real risk of being seen as just making attempts to get attention, or as chronic complainers who aren't fun to hang around with anymore. I know that I myself have been fairly guilty in recent social encounters of talking too much about my current disability issues and THE ONGOING NIGHTMARE THAT IS STATE ROAD 50, with all due apologies to
dragonsbane who just wanted to cheer me up. (Thanks and hugs and none of this entry is directed at you.)Mary Robinette Kowal's recent novel, for instance, features a character of this type – no one believes her illnesses are real because she constantly complains about them, and people no longer want to spend time with her; her older daughter fears that the younger daughter is following the mother's path, what with faking injuries and enjoying the attention. Mind you, I don't think that Kowal necessarily believes this – it's right out of the Austen and Alcott tradition and helps make Kowal's world feel far more authentic, and it's absolutely what the older daughter would think. I mention it only because it's a very typical example. And typical, because it's true. People do tend to gravitate to people who complain less.
Or, you can become inundated with what I call Obvious Advice, where people cheerfully tell you to do things that you've already done or been trying to do for well over a year or that you cannot physically do for one reason or another and fail to believe you when you object to this advice, or point out that you've already tried it, and, "Oh, I'm sure something can be done about the bus." (One would indeed think that something could be done about the bus, and for what it's worth, I've been assured for months now that something is getting done about the bus. Perhaps eventually I will even see results. But this is drifting into another blog post.)
(Pretty much everyone at this point, and often before, says, "Have you thought about online gaming?" Sigh. Head thunk. Yes, yes I have, and yes, yes, I even do it. Online socialization and gaming is not the problem nor the solution here – as I've mentioned, I have plenty of online friends and games. I'm beyond grateful for its existence – I honestly don't know what I would have done this year without it – but that's not the issue here.
I do appreciate the thought, though, and I admit I threw in this bit to prevent ten comments of, "but what about [fill in online game here]")
**********
I spent a long time wondering if I should go public with this or not – it's the sort of thing I usually keep for venting at friends – but after reading Ferrett's post and the comments, I realized, it's not just me.
And maybe one of the answers is occasionally saying something.
Also, thanks, Ferrett.
**********
Addendum: one of the players involved (alas, not the guy running the game) has given me a complete and meaningful apology and is doing something about the situation. (I'm also ok with two of the others who have continued to socialize with me from time to time.)
One.
Edit: Make that two.
