A Liberation Broadcast

Do you think all these things we've done and said are going to land us in hell in the afterlife if hell even exists?

I keep trying to think of something profound or deep to say on this eighth anniversary of getting hit by a car while in a crosswalk but words are scarce lately.

I’m thankful I wasn’t hurt more than I was—scrapes, bruises, and torn ligament in my right foot notwithstanding—and that I was only without a wheelchair for eight weeks but I find myself frustrated that eight years later the same crosswalk still feels like a death trap and that sometimes my existence feels like a prison.

And there it is.

The sinking feeling that arrives at the end of each day reminding me I’ll never be good enough or that I’m too much. My mouth gets me in trouble when I say too much because I can’t leave anything unsaid and I over communicate. Time too leave it all here again. These words and these feelings can’t hurt anyone if they’re left to die here.

Last night I planned to temporarily deactivate my account while I got my roller coaster of emotions more under control. Twenty four hours later, I still have much work to be done but I’m not completely overwhelmed for the first time in weeks and it’s a pretty wonderful feeling.

The preceding weeks have been completely overwhelming, full of fear, sadness, anger, and frustration mostly at myself but also at others. Some of these feelings were/are justified but many of them have not been. The sudden onslaught of “crazy” was due to a temporary, yet necessary, medication withdrawal. Tonight I was able to start the medication again and so while these feelings still need to be dealt with in more ways than with just medication I’m excited to finally begin feeling more levelheaded and less like I’m drowning.

Today especially reminded me that I really do have the best friends, whether they’re dropping everything to come clean my kitchen while I conduct a zoom interview after my millionth meltdown lately and leaving me with a bomb salad and cider or helping wrap and rewrap my knee or just listening to me cry and not trying to fix it, because I have no other release.

I’ve been thinking about what it means to be disabled in a society that isn’t made for or always accepting of those with disabilities. I am incredibly fortunate to have a wonderful community of people that help in so many ways, especially lately. I don’t 4”know what I’d do without you and I’ll forever be thankful for you.

However, and I don’t know if it’s because of my personal life experiences (which have me temporarily off of my anxiety meds and increasingly more sensitive) or whatever else but the amount of casual or flippant ableism that has popped up in both my personal life and larger society isn’t okay.

My acceptance of my own disability is something I will never get away from. In fact, if I could choose to rid myself of this hateful body I would. But I can’t. And that internalized ableism is something I’m not proud of and am constantly working to reverse.

What hurts the most though isn’t the random strangers that have said or done things to my face or behind my back throughout my life. It’s realizing, either through verbalization or actions that some of the people that mean the most to me view me differently, pity me, or see me as lesser then because I can’t fucking walk.

Today in Mario Kart and existential crises:

Me: Are you okay?

Joseph: I’m fine. I’ve just been on an emotional roller coaster for the last 26 years. It’s fine.

(two seconds later)

I woke up to pee and take a drink of some water and am now uncontrollably sad that he didn’t come here after the bar. Probably worse that he texted and said he almost did but then not because reasons.

Today has been *one of those days*

Tired and frustrated with my hateful body and broken mind and that no matter how much others say differently I can’t see them as anything else. I’m always anxious and my physical state of existence is often a good source of that anxiety.

I don’t know if my body hurts more today because of the change in weather or if, god forbid, my knee is infected. I pray it’s not. I cannot live through that again.

Relationships are hard, especially ones that live in limbo, and I don’t know how to make anything better. I serve as a placeholder and nothing else.

Sometimes I think no one will ever touch this body again. Lord save me from this loneliness and these boys whom I serve as a placeholder for until their ever after comes along.

There’s so much I want to tell you but fate says otherwise. I feel so incredibly alone and angry and tired and I know what we’ve done is wrong but I never meant to hurt anyone.