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Joined 2 years ago
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Cake day: June 13th, 2023

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  • I disagree that expecting an apology is narcissistic. If I were being a devil’s advocate, I would ask you how expecting “actionable, notable change” is any less narcissistic than expecting an apology? I pose this question because I’m not sure I understand why you feel that expecting an apology is narcissistic (perhaps the confusion is arising from differing understandings of the word “narcissistic” — a complex word that is used in quite diverse ways)

    I agree with you that apologies are, at best, insufficient — at least on their own — because even the best apologies can be invalidated by someone continuing to cause the same kind of harm they apologised for. However, when a good apology is accompanied by meaningful change, then it can really help with closure.

    I have some trauma due to the stress of an extended period of disability discrimination, and sometimes I think about how I wish they would apologise. There was legal action taken, and compensation, but no apology. I can imagine a hypothetical alternate world where part of the settlement involved an apology, but that is not the outcome I crave, because that apology would inevitably just be hollow and only intended to placate me. This feels analogous to how you describe that you wouldn’t want an apology, except in my case, the apology would be coming from an organisation, rather than an individual, which would make the flavour of hollowness somewhat different.

    The apology I crave is the one I know I will never get, but I would trade away most of the compensation for. It’s a silly thought to entertain, because if they had been willing to recognise the harm that they had caused me and committed to change, then it probably wouldn’t have escalated to legal action. And even if they had apologised in a way that felt genuine, I would have no way of holding them accountable to it, because I wasn’t involved with that organisation anymore. For me, an apology is about being seen. The harm that was done to me can never be undone, but recognising that harm is a necessary first step towards preventing it from being done unto others.

    I think that expecting an apology isn’t a great thing necessarily. It certainly can be reasonable to expect it as a requirement to continue engaging with a person as part of an ongoing relationship of some sort, as a first step towards meaningful change. Expecting an apology is useful in these scenarios because if someone refuses to, then it lets me know early that I should not expect them to be better in future, and I can do with that information what I will. If they do apologise, then their apology exists for a while in an odd “superposition” where I’m not sure whether to regard it as a genuine apology or a bullshit one — that will depend on their future actions.

    A distinct but relevant question is that of forgiveness. I’ve found that whether I forgive a person is decoupled from whether they apologise and/or improve, and I’m much healthier for it. I think of forgiveness as something that I do for myself; there’s a Buddhist line I like that says “holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die”. I don’t like forgiveness being treated as if it is given in exchange for an apology and/or meaningful improvement, because even when that growth does happen, it feels like it devalues both the growth and the forgiveness to treat it as transactional. Based on your post, I suspect you would have interesting perspectives on how forgiveness interacts with apologies and/or actual change.

    I am trying to reflect on whether there is anyone who has meaningfully grown or repaired their original wrong who I haven’t forgiven. I don’t think so. However, there are people who haven’t apologised (or did so insincerely, out of selfishness) who I have forgiven. I






  • It sounds like you’re pretty skilled at resilience. No doubt it doesn’t feel like it, because it sounds like you’re far from thriving in life. However, as someone with a fair bit of trauma of my own, I know how hard it can be to simply continue existing.

    I’m not going to say some trite shit about how things can get better, because I’ve been grappling with hopelessness myself a lot lately; just because something can theoretically get better doesn’t necessarily mean that it will — especially when the material circumstances of our life are so tied to the opportunities to heal that we have access to. What I will say is that I’m sorry you had to develop such resilience, and that so many of those happier potential futures were stolen from you. It’s not fair, and no amount of future happiness can ever change that. However, I hope that some day you are able to discover an accessible future that can be fulfilling for you, because you deserve it. Something that I tell myself when I am very low is that as long as I am alive, there is a non-zero chance that things will improve. It’s not much, but sometimes when it hurts too much to hope, it helps to hope for a reason to hope.

    For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. I’m generally miserable lately, and although I know next to nothing of your world, there’s enough here that I feel a sense of solidarity with you. I’m not entirely sure whether that makes me feel any better — in some ways it hurts to see other people battling circumstance in the ways you describe. On the other hand, it does make me feel less alone, which bolsters my resolve somewhat. So thank you for being here (where “here” means on this thread, but also existing in this world). Existing is fucking hard under the circumstances you describe, and though it’s surely hard to see it this way, your strength in persisting is an achievement to be proud of.





  • Which is your project?

    As an aside, your comment has hit me in a surprisingly profound way. I think it’s because it can be too easy to forget about the people behind the software we use. This is especially the case with proprietary software from big companies, but it can also happen with open source or smaller projects from individual devs. I think that it arises in part from thinking about software as a product, which neglects the messy relationality of how things are actually made, maintained and used.

    It’s sweet to see such a serendipitous exchange of appreciation. It makes the world feel smaller, but in a good way.



  • I share your enthusiasm. I wanted to learn Linux because so much scientific computing in my field relies on it, but when I dual booted, it was too easy to just retreat to Windows as the path of least resistance. I decided to fully make the switch to Linux as an attempt to force myself to learn stuff, but the big thing that held me back was nervousness about gaming.

    Turns out that this fear was completely unfounded, and I have been utterly astounded at how easy gaming on Linux was. It wasn’t completely pain free, and there were a couple times that I needed to tinker somewhat, but it was no more difficult or frequent than I needed to do similar stuff on Windows.

    I get what you mean about logging on feeling like home. Besides the scientific computing, a big part of what pushed me to Linux was how ambiently icked out I felt by using Windows — it didn’t feel like mine. Running Windows feels like renting a home from a landlord who doesn’t respect your boundaries and just comes in to make changes while you’re sleeping. Like, it’s not even about whether those changes are good or bad, but how weird it feels to constantly be reminded that this home is not truly yours.



  • I understand why you feel that way, and I’m certainly not trying to persuade you that you should feel optimistic about the world. It sounds like giving up hoping might be a thing that helps you to cope with the awfulness of the world — it’s reasonable to want to shield oneself from inevitable disappointment.

    I think that at the core of my own resolve to keep resisting terrible things is my sadness at how it’s not helpful to try to persuade people like you that things are worth fighting for. I think that, at my core, I agree with you. We’re both so jaded by what we’ve seen that it’s hard to imagine anything better. To some extent though, I don’t need to — my own coping mechanism is to hold onto the abstract hope of future people being able to effect change (and to think in terms of how I can best set the groundwork for them). Effectively, I am setting aside the question of whether people are worth the effect now, and imagining a future where people are worth the effort.

    I recognise that it’s irrational, but it helps me to get by — in terms of my own life, I’ve found it’s a mindset that helps me to grow in a way that I like, so it’s a useful guiding principle if nothing else. I emphasise again though, I’m not trying to persuade you of anything. There is so much awfulness in the world that I’m just glad that you’ve been able to continue existing, even if you feel hopeless about things.