my ass is a dumptruck

First, all of the best most loving people in my life are immunocompromised and extra vulnerable. They are they people who always gender me correctly and never bawck at me for “not passing,” the ones who help me work though my emotional and employment issues, and who have helped me u learn the toxic things my parents taught me. They are caring, passionate, and so much fun to have in my life. I was less happy when I wasn’t close to them, and being COVID conscious is such a small price to pay for keeping them in my life.

The other reason is job security. I do hard physical labor, lifting, moving, and running. It’s intensive work that I need to be in good shape to do. And many many many symptoms of long COVID would make this job infinitely harder, if I would even still be able to do it at all. So it’s very important I keep myself as safe from COVID as possible to keep providing for myself and my loved ones.

but Caroline Moore is a fiber artist who makes real shit that’s way cooler than this that you can buy on her shop

who's checking in without you having to prompt them. who notices when you've gone quiet in a way that means something's wrong and asks about it instead of waiting for you to bring it up. who pays attention to the small things… like the fact that you haven't eaten properly, that you've been sleeping inconsistently, that you said you were fine in a tone that meant you weren't fine at all and hoped nobody would push on it.

nobody pushed on it. they never do. because you're so good at presenting functional that people take you at your word. because you've gotten so practiced at carrying things quietly that most people don't even know you're carrying anything. you make it look so easy. you make yourself so low maintenance. so reliable. so steady. and people get comfortable with that. they stop looking closely because you've never given them a reason to look closely.

but i'm looking.

i see the way you absorb things without letting them show. the way you process alone because bothering someone with it feels like too much to ask. the way you've gotten so good at managing your own needs quietly that sometimes you don't even register them as needs anymore. just background noise. just something to push through.

you've been pushing through for a long time haven't you…?

and i'm not saying you can't. i know you can. that's not the point. the point is that you shouldn't have to do all of it alone all of the time just because you're capable of it. capability was never supposed to mean nobody helps you. it just somehow ended up meaning that and you adjusted and kept going because that's what you do.

i don't want you to just keep going. i want you to actually be okay. there's a difference and i think you know there's a difference even if you've stopped expecting anyone to care about it.

i want to be the person who takes something off your plate today. not because you asked. but, because i'm paying attention and i can see that you're full and i want to help carry it. just some of it. the parts that are heaviest right now.

i want to check in and actually mean it. want to ask how you are and wait for the real answer instead of accepting fine and moving on. want to notice the things you don't say and ask about those specifically. want to be consistent enough that you stop bracing for the moment i stop showing up because i'm not going to stop showing up.

you're allowed to need things. i want to say that clearly because i don't think anyone says it to you enough. you're allowed to be tired. you're allowed to not have it together. you're allowed to put something down and let someone else hold it for a minute without feeling guilty about it or rushing to take it back before they get inconvenienced.