Life Doesn't Stop When You're Cancelled
As I came home in tears about to ask to bum a smoke, which I haven’t done in 15 years, the person I needed the most in the world told me, "Now you get a taste of your mom dying."
Recently I went back online since being cancelled. The internet rewarded my presence by reminding me that there’s no redemption. People continued to stalk me, call me horrible names, spread rumours about me, make accounts dedicated towards ruining my reputation and dox me. It turns out if you continue to exist when you’re cancelled and unapologetically stand up to cancel culture, people get really fucking angry.
Since being cancelled for writing a book called Finding Autistic Joy, which is the stupidest fucking thing to cancel someone over, my life has only gotten harder. Not because I’m cancelled, but because that’s how life works; it keeps going. Continuing to live when I don’t feel like it showed me that all of the bullshit on X doesn’t matter. I mean, it sucks that people made up this idea of me and continue to attack me for their projections, but what can you do, there are a lot of mentally ill people out there.
When I call people who harass me mentally ill, they get really offended and say things like, “Mental illness isn’t an insult.” And of course it’s not. I don’t say things to insult people – that’s what my cancellers do. If you’re bullying someone, you’re obviously doing worse than me mentally.
When I went offline, I moved in with my best friend and her kid. It was one of the most meaningful times of my life. When you have suicidal ideation, the love of a child is one of the best ways to keep you alive. Even though I never wanted children, my maternal instincts kicked in and I learned that I’m more capable than I ever thought possible. I put my toes in the grass in the backyard, and we ran and giggled away the rumours swirling around on the internet.
My best friend and I are no longer in touch, and I recently had to say goodbye to her and her child. There’s a lot I want to say about that, and maybe one day I will. But losing a 20-year-friendship isn’t even the hardest thing I’ve endured this year. While I was still living there, my mom was diagnosed with cancer again. As I came home in tears about to ask to bum a smoke, which I haven’t done in 15 years, the person I needed the most in the world told me, “Now you get a taste of your mom dying.”
My mom has an aggressive type of cancer, and I just picked myself off the floor from sobbing like she had already died. Before that I broke down in a cafe, because I mistakenly thought I could handle going out in public. My mom and I haven’t had a good relationship over the years, but throughout her cancer diagnoses I’ve come to terms with her faults. I feel like a fool for ever wasting time being angry with her. Before all of my cancellers, my mom was the first person to show me that that the world is cruel, and that even those who are supposed to love you will hurt you. Maybe my cancellation is karma for writing about my mom all those years ago.
Recently I turned 35, and the stress of my life started showing on my face. My auburn hair is gradually being replaced with white. I suppose my youth is behind me, and so are my many mistakes. In my 20s, instead of getting tattoos I regret, I wrote about my pain and published it for the world to see – and now I have to live with the impact it had on my mom and that people are digging up my past. But it’s hard to care about what people say about you on the internet when your mom is going through chemo. Maybe she’d dislike that I’m writing about her still, and maybe that’s one of my faults, but if I don’t write I’ll be back on the floor sobbing.
People have been making up rumours that I use marginalized voices to make money. I laugh about it as I lay in bed shivering because I don’t have heat. One night while feeling hopeless in my bed, I had a flash of inspiration. At 2 A.M I decided not only to publish a book about how to survive being cancelled, but also to start a publishing house for neurodivergent people that’s immune to cancel culture. Since posting about it on X, it’s clear my cancellers are angry that I’m doing this. Not only have I become stronger and decided to come back online, but I’m helping other people learn to do the same. They seem to expect that they can bully people off the internet, because often it works. But I dealt with so much trauma before getting cancelled that their harassment just gives me more motivation.
Sometimes I get so frustrated about being harassed online that I want to fight back, and I’ve been known for my comebacks online. I laugh as I watch Ronnie Radke roast his cancellers. But I’ve been thinking a lot about the quote from Nietzsche: “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster.”
I’d like to think the people harassing me would see what I’m going through with my mom and leave me alone, but I know what humans can be like. When I was a kid my brother died, and a girl who bullied me told everyone I wanted people to feel sorry for me. I often try to figure out why people are so cruel, because no matter how much I’ve suffered in life I still can’t comprehend taking it out on others. During my resurfacing online, someone who harassed me for months on end apologized to me. I asked them why they did it and what made them stop. They said I could share their answer:
“I thought I was doing the right thing. At the time I didn’t see it as harassment but it was, especially when there were so many people doing it. I didn’t agree with you and thought that what I was doing was the best way to express that. It definitely wasn’t. I spent lots of time thinking about the situation. I’m not sure if this is too personal to share but my mum had a mental breakdown after getting out of a mentally abusive relationship, so I saw the impact words can have. I also had my own incident [being harassed]. It all made me realise how powerful words can actually be, and that I wasn’t using words in a way that helped anyone. All I did was throw abuse at you and fuelled anyone else doing the same thing. Again, I’m sorry.”
Multiple people who harassed me have now apologized, and it gives me hope for humanity. Once lost to anger and bitterness, my faith in goodness is coming back knowing the people who are currently bullying me could come around too. I won’t hold my breath though.
Life doesn’t stop when you’re cancelled. Despite having a mob of people who hate me for no real reason, I still have to pay rent and cry from grief and figure out how to be okay. I lost years to isolating during the pandemic, lost my mind, lost my social skills. But since then I also lost the 40 pounds I gained during those years, started going to the gym every day, taking long hikes and writing more than I ever have in my life. How do you explain all of that on a coffee date? “And oh yeah, people online call me a racist, fascist, far right grifter. Nice to meet you.”
I used to feel suffocated by the idea of making friends or dating and having them Google me. Maybe it’s because of the way my very literal brain works, but I genuinely thought people were serious when they called me names. And maybe it’s taken me too long to realize this because I needed to regulate my nervous system, but I don’t think they seriously believe what they’re saying. So many people are being called names by the left now that the words they’re saying have lost all meaning.
If people really thought I was this awful person, they wouldn’t stalk my every word for material to twist and try to convince people that I am. They would steer clear of me. Instead, they say things like, “Forest you’re actual scum of the Earth. Disgusting, ugly, pathetic 35-year-old bigot with no life. You’re gonna be grifting for pennies for the rest of your life to communities that think you’re disgusting, ugly bitch.” That’s just schoolyard bully shit.
Having dealt with abuse my entire life, I’m struck with how cancel culture resembles it. Last night I watched a TikTok live where a white lesbian talked down to everyone as if she was the all-knowing authority on racism. One-by-one she took callers who tried to have conversations with her, and she instantly dropped the calls at any disagreement or muted them over and over while laughing. I watched as she used word salad or asked people bad-faith questions, and it reminded me of an abusive ex I left in the middle of the night. She wasn’t having a discussion, she was dominating them. It was like watching my cancellers on X in real time, and confirmed for me how abusive woke people are. I stood up to it as much as I could until I was permanently muted, watching helplessly as she brainwashed a white woman from the U.K into feeling like she was racist.
Cancel culture tells you that if you just say the correct thing, you won’t lose your income and community. Just say the right thing and you’ll be fine – as long as you keep up with the ever-shifting goal post. And don’t even think about standing up to your cancellers.
But people are starting to stand up to it, and the more we do it the more cancel culture will lose its power. Based on the U.S election results, it’s already starting to. Working class people want to solve real issues, not be told they live in a white supremacist society.
I was woke for a long time, so it’s strange to have the community of people I once belonged to mischaracterize me so brutally. I’ve heard the time before success is lonely, because you’ve outgrown the people who were holding you back but you haven’t become the person who will attract those you want to be around. I can definitely feel the growing pains.
When I talk about success, I don’t necessarily mean money and fame, I mean achieving your goals. All I want is what anyone wants: To make a living from my work, be around like-minded people and do things I enjoy. But right now my life is a fucking mess, and I can’t envision I would be a good companion to make small talk with. I keep finding myself randomly crying about my mom, and people generally want to spend time with happy people. But like Nietzsche says, “To live is to suffer, to survive is to find meaning in the suffering.”
So you move through the suffering. Like I wrote in Finding Autistic Joy, I try to find joy in the little things – and that joy propels me to keep fulfilling my purpose. Watching videos about aliens, even though I’m skeptical. Spending time with my mom while she has chemo, even though it’s a bittersweet way to bond. Sipping hot chocolate with marshmallows while writing at a cafe, even though I feel like crying. The hope that my work will help someone else keeps me going.
Recently I received a kind message about my latest book, Decoding Allistic. I thanked them for buying it and said I hope I did it justice. They responded by telling me my work helps to reverse the harmful information out there about being autistic, and that they plan to use it for their autistic coaching. They told me to rest assured that my ideas are absolutely correct and I’ve done my book justice. They finished by telling me to keep up my great and important work, which was very nice to hear.
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