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We all are.

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Heat index was 110 degrees so we offered him a cold drink. He went for a full body soak instead

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this year “i lived bitch” has been ringing in my ears. i’ve gone from scrambling and saying “how can i survive this” into “i survived worse.” this body is more than growing. bitch, i define “flourish”.

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Disabled people’s lives are not tragedies. Parents and carers are not “heroes” for loving disabled people. Disabled people’s private moments should not be shared without consent on your “warrior mom” blog. Disabled people are not your pity hires, dates, or friends. Disabled people do not exist to be saved or spoken for by non-disabled people.

Treat disabled people with respect and dignity. Treat disabled people like people.

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its that time again

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ppl who think that saying “I love you” to someone a lot makes it lose it’s meaning are so boring literally what could make you think that? if someone tells you they love you like 3 times in an hour it means that 3 separate times they were sitting there and thinking about you and how wonderful you are like. smh. say I love you to everyone that you love as often as possible bc sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are people who love you

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Shoutout to all the people who grew up dreaming big only to have chronic illness take your dreams away

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whom else here gay and craving physical affection can i get a yeehaw

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she snorts down her nose. “what, I’m going to drink enough water i’ll suddenly be cured?” she waves her fingers like: magic. we sit on a clover patch.

but the stupid shit helps. i look down at the pond where all those dumbass beautiful fish are swimming and i don’t know how to say it, so i just start talking. “it’s like this,” i say. i hold up my Flower Power it-was-on-clearance water bottle. “i carry this bullshit around with my everywhere.” i jiggle it. “it’s fucking heavy. half the time i put it into my passenger seat and forget about it. whenever i get thirsty while driving i lament my hubris for not having some kind of really long straw.”

a fish flashes in the water. orange and bigger than my arm. “it’s fucking stupid,” i say, “i started doing it because it was supposed to be good for my skin.” i gesture to my face. “it’s been years and results are slim.”

she picks at a leaf. “i think you’re pretty,” she says.

i kind of lose the ability to speak for a second, but i was on a roll, and if i don’t finish what i was saying i’ll explode or else never bring it up again. “it’s … something i did just to take care of myself. and that… you know, dumb-as-shit faux-self-care was also… real self care.” i find a clover and rip it up and start to mumble because the words could kill me. they’re sharp enough. “every time i felt like i wasted a day in bed or did nothing or it was just… a bad, bad day…” i hold up the water bottle, “i could tell myself well at least we fucking drank the goddamn water.”

i throw the clover scraps at the fish with my free hand. the green pieces all float down gently and get fish-lip kissed. “and, you know. that helped. that idea that even when i dropped the ball i was still kind of playing.” deep breath. put down the bottle. “and one thing became two things. i told myself if i could carry around this fucking thing, i could also convince myself to carry a lunchbox so i actually got semi-close to three meals. who cares that all three meals were three-day-old leftovers or just three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

i don’t want to look at her because i feel dumb saying all this fake-deep stuff, but at the same time i know she’s looking at me, so i sneak a peek. she’s got her head resting on her pulled-up knees. arms curled around her body and a look i can’t pick apart. more complicated than a clover leaf. 

i go back to pulling at harmless grass which has never done anything to deserve the likes of me. “and, just, you know. if i can meal prep, i can go to the gym. if i can work out, i can adjust my sleep. if i can sleep, blah blah blah.” i run my hand through my hair. “and … i still have bad days. but on those days…. i drink my fucking water.”

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there’s so much i wanna say but nah

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me 24/7

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That is so sad Alexa please don’t play anything bc I am scared of you and will not allow you in my Home

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Its punk to love your friends and also frogs

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I sexually identify as a fucking waste of time

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Recovery doesnt have to mean becoming neurotypical??? It means being the healthiest version of yourself that you can be. It means accepting help and not generalising the idea of therapy as bullshit. It means actually trying to better yourself regardless of whether or not you’ll be completely cured and go back to “normal”. A lot of things dont go back to normal but they can get better and you can live in this world and be okay