#mor rambles

how the hell are ya & happy gay Christmas 🗽🎃

I give you el gato #1, my eldest: Aaron Purr (the white kitten doing yoga).

I fostered kittens before rona & Aaron was an intentional foster fail from the Hamilkitties litter.

he’s had a toe fetish since birth, for both his own toes & unfortunately everyone else’s (see video exhibit #2) & is the living, breathing embodiment of a himbo: big of heart, dumb of ass.

I’m pretty sure he was a golden retriever in a previous life. he’s the only cat I’ve ever met that actually likes belly rubs & he used to play fetch before he contracted pure lazy disease.

he has giant, goofy eyes & my friends have actually memed the pics below (help yourself & please tag me if you use them- it would make my week).

art by my hella talented sister

he’s also obsessed with me: the boy will see me leave the apartment, then go sit outside my office & cry & cry & cry, hoping I’ll magically materialize. if he can’t be glued to my side at all times, everyone’s gonna hear about it (literally).

when I’m GIFFing or gaming in said office & I haven’t paid attention to him in sooooo long (i.e. 5 minutes), he’ll stretch himself up & oh-so-gently pat my face with his paw- also while crying. have I mentioned the whole “loves to cry” thing yet?

cries in loaf 🍞

Aaron also has allergies & let me tell you: hearing heavy breathing only to look up & see this face staring back with maximum creep intensity is, uh- it’s something.

Alexa, play Every Breath You Take by The Police

me (thrilled she’s finally letting me do SOMETHING for her): ON IT 🫡

cut to me giving her the butter & her handing me a bag before basically running off into the night before I could give it back to her (she’s slick).

inside the bag? two sweaters she randomly bought because she thought I’d like them (I do) & she knows I’m about to go to Europe where it’s chilly, plus a freaking $20 bill.

I wish my autoimmune disease made me specially abled instead of regularly ill. I'm a pro now at managing constantly-changing treatment regimens, coordinating monthly (if not more) doctor visits & endless bloodwork, but alas- that's not a superpower. it's the day-to-day reality of living with a disability.

I can only speak as a someone who was relatively healthy before I got sick, but the mourning period I went through was brutal. getting diagnosed with an incurable disease brings a metric fuckton of grief with it, requiring a huge perspective shift.

I'm an intensely independent, self-reliant person- sometimes to my own detriment. unsurprisingly, coming to terms with this new reality was no small task.

when I was finally diagnosed, I made a playlist (my go-to coping mechanism). I played one song on a loop because of its namesake line, & it still packs an emotional gut-punch for me: "I needed to lose you to love me."

I was angry at my body for 'failing' me- for having zero control over such an all-important outcome (my health). I had to reconcile myself to the reality that my life was different now. I had to lose my old view of myself to love the new version that needed more sleep, more sick days, more accommodations.

it took me years to get comfortable using the term "disability" to help describe what's now a big part of my lived experience (especially since mine is invisible). it went from being a foreign term I could've never imagined using for myself to my bridge to self acceptance.

(note: I have my own complex relationship with the term, as do most people. I’m talking about the harm in equating terms here, not implying that anyone should use these words to describe themselves. that’s entirely up to the individual.)

there's nothing romantic about my disease- a quality that "specially abled" imbues for me. do I- & all disabled people- have special abilities, valuable experience & unique skills? you bet your ass we do. one has absolutely nothing to do with the other.

every person has the right to choose the terms they're comfortable with to describe their experience. for me? treating "disability" like a dirty word 1) glosses over (if not entirely erases) the very real, life-altering struggle inherent to my condition, & 2) muddies the waters, potentially making it even more difficult for disabled people to get the accommodations we need when we need them.

using terms like "specially abled" isn't some evil, awful thing, though. if anything, it tells me that the person is trying to be delicate & respectful with their word choices. I genuinely appreciate that, even if it's misguided (in my opinion).

when in doubt? listen to how people describe themselves. honor them by using the same descriptors (unless they tell you otherwise). choose to believe people when they tell you how terms affect them.