Really like this idea:
Quarantine Stories is a collaborative platform that collects stories of isolation as a result of home-quarantining in efforts to reduce the effects of COVID-19
@mouloud @KnowPresent @shibacomputer any real-time conversation has to deal with hierarchy because you can't all speak at the same time and be heard.
quarantine
This is my stream-of-consciousness dispatch from the quarantine (part of a growing series with, among others, @entreprecariat (initiator)):
https://networkcultures.org/blog/2020/04/14/dispatches-from-the-quarantine-04-lidia-pereira/
ok, I finally have a synthetic table of what I mean by "user proletarianization" https://networkcultures.org/entreprecariat/the-user-condition-03-user-proletarianization/
Credentials for 500,000+ Zoom accounts are being sold on the dark web and hacker forums for less than a penny each, and in some cases, given away for free (Lawrence Abrams/BleepingComputer) - Lawrence Abrams / BleepingComputer:Credentials for 500,000+ Zoom accounts are being sold on the d... more: http://www.techmeme.com/200413/p20#a200413p20
It’s the #actuallyautistic community on masto that made me realise I don’t need a dx. I know my mind and body better than anyone else. I know how I suffer with sensory overloads and an entire host of other things.
Even my psychiatrist told me it’s just my anxiety but since being on here I have an even better idea of how much medical gatekeeping goes on for adults with autism. I want to be seen and accepted. Thank you to all of you that have unknowingly helped me achieve that.
Even typing this now is draining, but there’s so much I want to share. I just don’t have the spoons. It’s to the point where I give up and withdraw most of my days.
My voice is extremely soft, a lot of the time words come out in whispers. All I knew was that I didn’t have the energy to assert my voice any louder so I could be heard properly. Speaking saps my energy unless it’s something I’m super interested in.
When I meltdown because of a sound, sight or texture of clothes on my skin, those that witness it chalk it up to anxiety. It’s invalidating. I don’t feel seen or heard.
I’ve long held the idea that I’m autistic but it’s like nobody I talk to about it believes me because I hide a lot of things I’m affected by until I just can’t.
He/she/they.
Fencing. Crypto. Poetry. Cyber.roots buried deep in sand kissed waves of the Caribbean ocean.