Jay The Fangirl

[authorgeek]

Ukraine

Let me preface this with a disclaimer: I’m not Ukrainian. I’m coming from an American worldview and American alone. If you’re tired of reading what we have to say, and need to scroll to take care of your mind right now, scroll. Ignore this. This is mostly for me anyway, and I care much more about your health and lives than my notes or views.

I really don’t think Russia was prepared for this. Is it awful? Absolutely. But we’ve seen the Ukrainian citizens rise so incredibly, beautifully, tragically, and admirably to the occasion, as well as global allies come to their aid. These are just a few examples of the things I’ve read amidst the chaos:

They have assistance from France, who is seizing Russian assets.

American Liquor stores aren’t importing Russia made Vodka (a bigger deal than it sounds on paper).

Switzerland has broken a 500yr global neutrality to freeze Russian assets.

Ukrainian citizens tore apart a tank piece by piece while it was halted due to fuel shortages.

A chemistry professor told her Ukrainian students their homework was to make Molotov cocktails.

Able bodied young men are fleeing both countries to avoid being drafted, as they don’t wish to fight.

And this last point has been especially weighing heavily on my heart. No one - on either side - wants this. Russian citizens are ashamed at their government, but of course, can’t express this under risk of treason. The troops have been sent to starve and abandon their convoys on the Ukrainian streets, as Russia’s assets are inaccessible. Ukrainian citizens are facing horrific violence at the hands of men who, I do not believe, ever signed up for this. To that end, shame on the ones who did.

Personally, I really don’t want to hear any Anti-Russian rhetoric that isn’t Putin centered, especially from Americans. I stand with Ukraine, but be aware the family cooking Russian food for their restaurant or painting nesting dolls aren’t hurting anyone, and are likely as horrified as the rest of us. Miss me with the xenophobia, please.

Now, at risk of jinxing it by saying such things aloud, I see the potential of a small blessing in disguise. The silver lining of an ugly, ugly grey cloud.

I sincerely hope in 2024, Trump’s involvement with Putin specifically keeps him from reelection. I hope at election day, America can be protected from like violence, and senselessness. I hope we make the connection that having Trump back in office when he runs again is a terrifyingly dangerous possibility. As far as I am concerned this is Putin’s war (again, I have an admittedly narrowed POV here), and I hope he fails miserably. Trump’s proximity to him scares me as much as any of the rest of this. I can only hope when the time comes we put two and two together.

The bottom tagline of my Blog has been “Fight the Power, Sunflower.” Since I built this site. Now, more than ever, it seems applicable to what I wish to communicate here. 

[authorgeek]

Isolation

I think “Lonely” is the primordial emotion. The Mother feeling.  At least, perhaps, it is for me. I’ve been lonely my entire life, even and especially while surrounded by the people who care about me.

When I am very happy, the first thing I want to do is to call my best friend. Call my mother. I don’t want to sit in this good news or excitement alone. I want to share it. I want to spread it. I want others to celebrate with. Joy and happiness are only sweeter when shared with others who can join and partake in these things with you.

When I am very sad, I do not wish to sit in despair or lament on my own. I want support. I reach out in hopes others have needed wisdom or assistance, in hopes of community and understanding. Sadness becomes compassion. Despair, Empathy.

Likewise, when I am angry. I find without sharing it anger quickly turns to rage and wrath and resentment. Anger, when shared in community, can become organization. Motivation. Rage steps aside for action. Activism. Movement.

I have found I am not alone in this. Many people react this way when feeling any strong emotion at all.

Emotion, for me, can be a very physical, active, and tangible thing. I don’t just feel happiness, anger, or sadness. I am these things. I am happiness. I am anger. I am relaxed. I am fear. My chest burns. My heart rises to my throat or falls to my stomach. My eyes widen. My gut drops, tightens, relaxes, heats and cools. It’s embodied. It’s painful and aching. It’s balm to a wound, cool and relieving. My hands shake and my legs bounce and I cry and yell or cheer. I sigh and roll my eyes. I breathe. I unclench my jaw and lower my shoulders.

I have always felt everything deeply, intensely, fully. I cannot bring myself to apologize for this. Nor can I change it.

Perhaps it’s a bit like Tinkerbell is said to be. Fairies are so small they only have room for one emotion at once. When she is jealous of Wendy, this becomes all consuming and she embodies envy.

I’ve tried shrinking myself. I’ve tried hiding it. I’ve tried containing everything as best I could. It’s resulted in physical illness and excruciating pain. I don’t want to be palatable to others anymore. I don’t care to be consumable and neat or tidy. Above this, I want a healthy relationship with my internal and bodily self and how the two meld together.

I’ve been called self centered for this, but I pity and sympathize with those who feel this way - constantly setting themselves to the wayside, and taking their emotions out on others through name calling and accusation rather than face their own internal selves. They are deeply afraid at what they see, and it’s too painful to take on, so they choose to ignore and bury it rather than allow it to make itself known and move on. This is how generational trauma forms, and begins the cycles I am determined to break and will take part in no longer. Feeling things in their entirety, giving these emotions full recognition and space is a strength I’ve known few others to understand. People get angry when I insist upon taking up space for myself, but I’ve learned It makes my emotions easier to control, less explosive, and causes less physical and emotional turmoil. Along with the assistance of therapists and medication, which I admit - I am privileged to have access to.  

In fact, my intensity can be exhausting and draining to those who do not know how to take care of themselves this same way. I understand I can be a lot to handle, but I make no apologies for it because those who love me understand in order to handle this kind of intense emotional presence they must share it and be working towards like internal goals. Those who give themselves space for emotional care and self examination are less likely to be exhausted by me, and communicate clearer, kinder, and with more respect - what it takes to hold relationship and share an emotional bond with each other. This is why I share such undying and intense love for those who feel the same. My chosen family, my soul partners, my healers, companions and truest friends.

Above all of it, no matter what else I am temporarily feeling at the time, I am nearly always deeply and intensely lonely. Lately, this stems from physical isolation due to a combination of COVID and my own chronic illness. From the feeling of everything I once had planned, all my dreams and ideas and hopes for the future, being pulled out from under me both by personal illness and global pandemic. I watch others move on, go “back to normal”, gather and celebrate - and there is almost too much for even me to feel. Fear, at gathering again when so many are stubbornly unvaccinated. Jealousy, of the ability to do so, and deep pain, at seemingly being ignored and deserted through it all.

Though, of course, I am not alone in this experience whatsoever. Being politically marginalized as woman, disabled, and queer, I find so much in common with these communities, who are watching the same. We are forgotten in the same way, left behind for the same reasons. All while recognizing myself as privileged because I am white and educated. I know for a fact my experiences are not unique, and I am not alone. I recognize this, it is why I write. Why I speak out, refusing to stay silent for a single moment. Without my voice, even while aware I am not alone, I am going through all of this largely by myself. Therapy and meds can only do so much against such an actively, systemically hostile environment as the US currently is for marginalized people. The human body can only handle so much emotional pain. We can only experience/watch so much brutality. We can only ignore and fall deaf to so many cries for help.

I can turn off the news. I can shut off my socials. I can turn off my phone and deactivate my accounts. I can hide post after post all day long. It can only serve so well in the face of simply knowing, deeply, personally, that the violence and desertion and hostility does not go away just because you’re not seeing it anymore. All that means is that I’ve ignored one event - one shooting - one queer child being exiled from their home - one woman in danger - one more ableist rearing their ugly heads - one more needless death of an innocent person. I am sad. I am angry. I am afraid. For legitimate and real reasons. I am so far beyond being able to turn it off, ignore, bury, and pretend anymore. Without large scale cultural, political, and environmental change, everyone I share so much in common with will continue to feel this way.

And all of this makes me profoundly lonely. So this is me, doing what I do when feeling strong emotions. Speaking. Processing. Reaching out. Sharing. Communicating. Giving it space, exposing it in the light for what it is. Here it is, on the table, forced into the open, just like airing out any dirty laundry. It will not be allowed to hide or shrink, because I must be allowed to breathe.

And suddenly, it feels just a little easier to bear.

[dailyshirbert]

I could’t bear another year without you. I want to be with you too, Gil.

[wiredandrewired]

Glasses are the most common disability aid in America.  

And some people may say, ‘you would look better without them, have you considered contacts/corrective surgery’, but no one acts like it’s a big deal if you need them, or need some special accommodations because of the condition you need them for, or if you only wear them part time.  No one looks at a person wearing glasses and thinks or says ‘that person has both eyes, why would they need glasses?’.  No one says a child or young adult with glasses is ‘too young’ to have that problem.  No one looks at a person in glasses and assumes they have them because they are fat, or lazy, or trying to trick people into some imagined advantage. Poor or irregular eyesight is a disability that has been normalized to the point that no one thinks of it as a disability any more.  Glasses quickly become just a part of the face of the person who wears them, and are solid proof that it isn’t hard for the people of this country to accept and to think of–to acknowledge–that a disability aid, whether part time or full time, is simply an extension of the disabled person who requires it to ease their interactions with the world.

SO IT WOULD BE SUPERB IF PEOPLE COULD STOP BEING SUCH ABSOLUTE FUCK-CLOWNS ABOUT WHEELCHAIR USERS.

[authorgeek]

I had a GI appointment yesterday and after describing my symptoms she goes,

“Well, that’s not good enough. There are still options out there, and we can do better.”

It’s hard sometimes to tell what is and isn’t helping. How much is my constant stress and anxiety and how much is autoimmune and how much is all of the above. Those are difficult waters to navigate because your brain and your guts are so connected. It’s absolutely a blended vicious cycle.

I’m being so careful about what I eat, and eating anything causes such painful bloating, I’m not eating enough, which of course only makes things worse.

It’s frustrating for everyone that I’m essentially housebound, especially as vaccinations mean things are opening up. The pandemic isn’t even over and the pressure to go “back to normal” - that wasn’t working in the first place - is ridiculous. Still, it’s depressing to feel like I’m living in a box, but I’ll take it over the pain and anxiety of car rides away from restrooms or standing in lines. It physically hurts, and is exhausting like nothing else right now.

If I’m being honest, I’ve been flaring and very sick for the better part of a few years now, trying to get back on my feet all while doing school and getting my degree, pushing through the everyday chores and errands and family outings. Stuff I wanted and stuff I didn’t, but needed to anyway. My body has had enough and now I don’t have the power to push through anymore. I’m needing more and more help to get the things I need.

I can’t ask anymore of myself than to finish school, and heal. I’m still working on my book and following that path, because right now it’s the fastest route to steady income while museums and libraries are barely reopened and not hiring. That’s because I’m determined not to let that opportunity pass me by and I’m willing to drain every drop of energy I have and more into it in order for it to succeed. Ultimately, that may still be asking too much of myself. It’s going to take everything I have, for sure.

The next few months are going to be a lot of trial and error. A test period while we experiment a bit with treatments and get me back into remission. I’m not going to immediately “get better”, I’m chronically ill. To “Get Better” isn’t going to happen. Still, this isn’t working. It’s not good enough, and to have a GI solidly back in my team for the first time since 18?

That means, we can do better than this.

[authorgeek]

Guilty Pleasures

I guilt trip myself so, so easily.

Reading for pleasure? Painting more flowers or pretty things in my sketchbook because I want to?

Playing Sims, Stardew Valley, and Animal Crossing because they’re fun?

Resting, watching kids movies and animated films because they bring me comfort?

It’s unheard of. I can’t do it without the voices in the back of my head screaming at me. “You’re wasting your time”. “You have chores”. “You’re being lazy”. “This isn’t productive.”

“This isn’t a valuable or productive use of my energy right now, and if I can focus on this - I can put that basket of laundry away.”

No. Actually, no! I’m learning that this is a form of self hate. And these voices in my head are not my own, but learned and collected from growing up under a lot of pressure to set aside pleasure and fun and rest for productivity and success and things that are “valuable” and “important”.

I value rest. I value fun. I value spending time enjoying myself. And it doesn’t take away from the fact that I am a hard worker. I am driven. I am determined to be successful, through being happy. My success isn’t going to look like the “traditional” model and the version of the dream we’ve all been fed. I can never fit into that box and I don’t think I’d want it if i could. It’s too narrow minded.

So Yes, Animal Crossing is very important. Because if I’ve stopped and let myself sit for a while and do nothing but collect shells and water flowers? It means I’ve allowed myself to enjoy something. To rest. I’ve allowed myself to drop the never ending pressure to “Make Something” of myself. I am me. I don’t need to make myself any more than that. Next step, do so without all the internalized shame.

From now on, I refuse to accept that self hatred and the harmful cycle of guilt every time my time could be “better” spent elsewhere. Time enjoyed is never wasted. I’m having fun. Why does that anger everyone so much? Why, every time, do others feel the need to look down upon it? What about me taking care of and enjoying myself is so against the rules? Why is it worse when I do it without shame?

I’ve figured out what works for me. I worked hard up front to allow myself time to take a break. I’d appreciate if it wasn’t treated like a waste - and instead - respected for the self-care it is. Not just for me, but like - can we extend that to everyone??? Please???

Thanks.

[charlesoberonn]

Heartwarming story: Little girl doesn’t have to do anything to fund her dad’s surgery because his expenses are covered by his country’s universal healthcare.

[charlesoberonn]

Human determination: Man bikes 18 miles to work every morning because he wants to and not because he can’t afford a car and would be fired if he’s late.

[charlesoberonn]

Spirit of Brotherhood: Neighbors host housewarming party for elderly resident who doesn’t need help in paying rent because his pension is more than enough.

[authorgeek]

Let me Break it Down for ya (and for me).

Fundamentally - for me, everything culminates to “Life, and Humanity is sacred and should be treated/protected as such.” Above property. Above Money. Above the judgement and opinions of others.

Now, for the nuance, and a practice in self-examination, specifically because I don’t want to leave this unexamined. I want to know I feel the way I do for a reason, and be able to record what those reasons are.

I am a disabled woman and I come from a long line of disabled family members. I’ve watched our pain be dismissed, and our diagnoses disregarded. I’ve heard my sister grow up being called the R slur and being asked about my physical appearance - “Are you short enough to be a M#dg#t (and yes, that’s a slur too)?” - much of my childhood. I’ve seen first hand how ableism dehumanizes us, especially when we cannot work/hold jobs, and commodifies us when we can. I’ve seen how America denies its most vulnerable healthcare (this includes the scariest buzzword of them all, abortion - because if we actually cared for the health of our women and children the need for abortion in the first place would drop right along with the number of unplanned pregnancies).

I am also a student who has grown up under the threat of gun violence in our schools. I’ve been through countless threat events and drills in preparation for an active shooter. (I thank God and consider myself lucky every time it crosses my mind that I’ve never personally been in an active shooter situation.) I am afraid of unattended cans/bottles/packages, loud noises, and public spaces because of the trauma this overhanging threat placed upon me and my peers as we grew inside of it. I’ve seen first hand how student voices are ignored and silenced by those in power.

I have black friends and loved ones. I try my very best as a white woman not to speak over them, but to amplify their voices, listen to, stand with, and defend them. I care more about black lives than city property, or profit. I also, as an infertile woman, love adoption and may one day raise a child of a different race and ethnicity than myself. I want to do so, prepared In love and knowledge of what that child’s experience will be like as a BIPOC or AAPI child in America. It is dangerous to pretend “their” problems do or should not impact me simply because I’m a white woman. There is no “them”. only “us” and I have the unique ability as white to act like it by following their lead, and I intend to fiercely.

I’ve found a community like no other among my LGBTQIA+ siblings. I have friends with They/Them pronouns. I use She/Hers but the found family and friendships I’ve made are deeper and more cherished than I will ever be able to express. The warmth and acceptance granted me, of questioning, and of exploration are so meaningful and I wouldn’t sacrifice them for anything. I never would have been able to come to terms with my own position within the queer community or found the language to communicate the way my heart works without them and I’ll never be able to thank them enough for that. I only hope I can return the same unconditional love they’ve shown me. 

In as simple as I can put it, there it is My most “nutshell” experience that’s led me towards what some may see as extreme, or as a certain “agenda”, specifically in my support of BLM or the Queer community. You may say it’s “Divisive” or “Intolerant” and lament my inability to find a middle ground or compromise. I lament your seeing humanity, in all its ever existing diversity and beautiful complexity, as “agenda” or “radical”. I cannot compromise because I do not wish to. I believe that disabled, queer, people of color are people. To compromise on that would be to compromise their humanity, and would make me a part of the problem. This is the problem I see with the white centrist or independent. If you’re looking for a middle ground and willing to find a compromise here, it’s because you weren’t truly valuing or seeing people as people in the first place.

[authorgeek]

...Well, at least I’m Vaccinated, right?

The American Healthcare System is deadly. This is another health/life update.

As I write this, my mother is making phone calls on my behalf, just as she has my whole life. I got out of the ER yesterday and from picking up my medications at the pharmacy, to canceling my counselor today because of a sudden drop in coverage - the reason I didn’t want to/hesitate to pursue mental healthcare in the first place - every moment for the last four years have been overshadowed by my chronic illness. The last year more so than ever as I continuously say no to gatherings and meetings and leaving my home. A constant reminder of what we’ve been through, about how it impacts me specifically, and another round of the negative energy that comes from having those same conversations in an endless cycle. 

1) I am flaring and very much tied to my own home and our restroom. This last trip to the ER a few days ago put me on yet another round of steroids and soon enough I should be feeling physically better in a while after rest (hahaha), gentle diet, and time. Goodbye spring break, hello IVs and 3am blood draws. My nurses were angels btw. Thank you to all the healthcare providers who stepped in to begin getting me back on track.

2) Scheduling my last classes of Zoom Uni and drs is still hell. I have Zoom calls on top of Zoom calls between class and therapy (at least up until now) and trying to establish and create relationships with new Dr.s, a process that has made my and my family’s life a living hell since moving from campus and back, insurance battles, address and paperwork changes, prescription and test orders - something has been overly complicated, slowed down, held back...etc at every step of the way.

3) My mother - bless her - to sainthood - has been fighting on all our behalf at EVERY MOMENT. But she should NEVER have to put herself through this. I hate watching her do this, sit on calls, listen and watch as we get juggled from one department to another over and over like a carnival ride because no one will stop and help us. It is so painful to watch, and it is so endlessly frustrating to pick up and begin again and again day in and day out. She constantly tells me its her job and that she’s going to keep it up as long as I need - but I still know she never should have to go to bat for me like this and I hate it. I really really hate it.

4) Stuck at home, hospitalized, med changes, this all feels like I’ve time traveled a bit back to the very first days while being diagnosed. I feel a lot of old emotions coming back, a lot of unhealed childhood trauma I was never allowed to properly work through because life, and all its other crisis got in the way one at a time. As far as my mental health has been going, I haven’t felt this way since I was a young teenager, just entering high school after being housebound for 7th grade because I was too sick for a conventional school setting. It’s been crushing, and heavy, and I just feel...guilty...that other people have had to put up with me while I fight through this fog and watch. There is very little they can do, and it’s always awful to know the people who care about me feel as helpless to be there for me as I feel in general. Of course, these are the kinds of things I’ve been talking to my therapist about. Even while I am writing this, we are in  the process of leaping over that particular hurdle on the long racetrack we’ve been running. I wanted therapy. I need mental health assistance. And we’re going to fight to keep this same provider and keep jumping through all the right hoops.

5) All this to say - I’m not the only one dealing with this and that makes it worse because NO ONE should. And if something doesn’t break? If something isn’t radically changed, it’s going to result in loss of even more lives of people like me. Possibly me. I know people hate to hear this and I hate to say it - but “COVID only impacts the elderly and those with preexisting conditions” is complete and utter Bull. All you’ve said is that you don’t care about those communities of people. About my community. About me. These clerical errors, working from out of office, communication breakdowns, have ALL been exacerbated by a global pandemic that was so horribly mismanaged it’s resulted in this mess. I wonder how much higher the death toll would be if we calculated the lack of mental health resources, errors made on the admin. side due to these circumstances - how much bigger a number would we be looking at, and what do we do to change it - and to put in preventative measures against it ever happening again.

A fantastic way you guys can support me right now - if you’re wondering after reading all of this - is through my redbubble shop, even just sharing the link to the page means a lot. I’ll hopefully have some new designs up to share with you all soon. I’m going to try my best to go a bit radio silent for a while. I’m going to continue reading, painting, gardening, and doing classwork because that’s my current capacity. That’s me running at MAX, and while that may not sound like much it’s all I’ve got right now. I’m tired beyond words, I don’t really even want to keep writing about this any more. So, if you guys are messaging/trying to get a hold of me, thank you in advance for your patience. I may not be able to respond right away. The new term just started and I spent most of my break in the hospital so I gently ask that I take some time alone, for me. Thank you all - for your encouragement and love you’ve sent my way during this year, and for forever. I love you all for it.

[authorgeek]

Medical Update

My jaw hurts today. I’ve been clenching my teeth through the abdominal pain while doing my best to study and pay attention in my zoom Uni lectures. Today, those go from 10am to 5pm. I have been in insurance/transfer/records and testing limbo, in some capacity, since I was 18. That’s three years ago now. Mom has been fighting as best she can by my side to switch to a hopefully successful treatment (Entyvio) ever since I asked for it when I turned 18 and insurance wouldn’t let us try it. We’re just waiting for a call to get my first dose scheduled, but as of right now I have been without really any formal treatment. I am at about a 6-7 on my pain scale, and have been steadily resting there for a couple of days now. I’m needing the bathroom more and more frequently and am having an increasingly difficult time sleeping, sitting through (let alone participating in) a lecture, or studying for extended periods of time.

It’s getting more difficult to eat without pain, and my hands are once again constantly dry, my fingers and toes are cold all the time, and I’m often overall shaky or weak. My hands shook so badly while making breakfast this morning a jar of jam slipped from my fingers and shattered on the kitchen floor.

I say all this, because UC, and IBD is generally called an “Invisible” Illness, and I find that to be entirely incorrect to us who live with it and those who love us. I think “Private” or “individual” or “Isolating” are better words. I can’t be there for my family, my friends, my boyfriend, or any of the people in my life who I love and care about. Not because I don’t want to be, but because my body betrays me. I am gritting my teeth and pushing through, sleeping when I can, eating what I can stomach. These things take all of the time and energy I have. I am tired, exhausted beyond the capacity of the word, and I have no more to give to the people I love. They sit by helpless, unable to ease my pain. That is not invisible. It is illness. It is Autoimmune Disorder. It is disability, by definition.

I am not asking for pity or sympathy. I am asking for empathy from those who understand living in a failing body, I am asking for prayers in the process and success of new treatments, and above all, I am asking for grace. I am doing the very best I can, and I am sorry that it is so often not enough. I am also asking you to VOTE and vote for Biden, as otherwise, the healthcare and medical system will continue to fail me and my family and it becomes more dangerous and more difficult for me to receive any form of treatment or care. Yes, it really does impact me on that personal a level.

All my love, and thank you for reading this far/supporting me along my journey.

- Jay

[authorgeek]

I just wanna say that I luv you and that I'm here for you, always and without question. You're one of the most important people in my life, through rain and shine and driving each other crazy. We will get through this together, through hell and high water. Much love, dearest. :purple_heart:

💚

You are absolutely the sweetest. I love you so much, thank you for your endless support and for always being there for me, my darling friend.

[authorgeek]

It’s been a while...

This is a really long one, and it’s not very positive or uplifting, so click at your own discretion, but I need to get it off my chest. If you even bother to take the time to read this the whole way through - just know I love you, and thanks for sticking with me.

If you know my story, you know I’m a fighter. From my first moments on this planet, I have taken every breath and lived every moment of my life in the knowledge that - I’m here for a reason, and by divine intervention. I wouldn’t be alive otherwise. I was diagnosed with my first genetic disorder at a few months old, and then my chronic illness/autoimmune disorder at 13. I spent my 13th birthday in the hospital and was diagnosed officially 3 days later. I am currently 21. I spent my 21st birthday during spring break of my Junior year of Uni sitting at home, drinking a total of 3 shots and watching Disney movies. The original plan was to go out to a pub, but everything had already shut down for Covid -19 and I was relocating back home for the rest of term as my campus shut down around me within a matter of weeks. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety as a symptom of my illnesses my whole life, but it’s been admittedly so much worse lately. I can’t trust my government to care for its citizens, and I can’t trust many citizens to care for each other.

I’ll start with masks. On one level - face coverings activate my medical PTSD and it’s triggering to see everyone wearing them because, to my mind, those belong in the hospital and so something must be very very wrong. Yes, I say to my anxious, shallow breathed self, something is. There is a global pandemic running rampant in my country directly due to my governments malicious inaction. That’s why these masks are needed, and it’s ok. These people are protecting you, and themselves. I’ve calmed down from this first wave just to hear/remember that people still don’t want to wear them. That they don’t care. That to them, I don’t exist. Their concept of the world does not include people like me in it, or worse, should not include people like me in the first place, and so my life holds no meaning to them. That’s even scarier than the first wave of panic I can eventually logic away. It terrifies me to the point that I just want to disappear. I want to crawl deep into a warm, dark hole where it is safe and I don’t have to worry, because no one can reach me. No one can hurt me here, curled up against this blackness, eyes wide and wrapped up so tightly in my own emotions that they become heavy and comforting as a blanket, protective and impenetrable as armor.

I can’t win. Wearing masks, not wearing masks, both make my chest tighten, breathing shallow, and I start to dissociate and shut down mentally in order to prevent expressing the panic I’m feeling internally. It hurts. This cycle ends with me in physical pain. I end up feeling crazy. I end up feeling like I’m overreacting. I end up feeling like I’m the one out of control and unable to be there for the people I love most.

Moving on - briefly - to a more direct violence, I grew up going to school post-columbine. I have watched grown ups, and those in power fail and dismiss student and child voices time and time again, for my entire living memory. I’ve survived bomb threats and shooting scares throughout both High school and college - though personally never been in an active shooter situation, another aspect of divine intervention, and protection, within my life. My entire generation has grown up watching those older than us, those we trusted, those who were supposed to protect us, fight for us. Our mothers took to the streets for us. Our teachers cried out on our behalf. They were met with nothing. Students began walking out of class. We left school when we didn’t feel safe. We were put on talk shows and given microphones. We got silence in response.

That’s just masks and gun violence. Add on top of this our heinous and fascist national leadership, the cries of black lives, disabled lives, immigrant lives, and the lives of extorted/victimized mothers and children - which I am not going to expand on here, but know - I hear you. I am one of you. I feel your pain. I stand with you.

I often struggle to understand how, and why, I am still alive. I wrestle regularly in the tragedy around me, and wondering why on earth through all of this, my life is preserved. I ask the existential Why Me? Why do I, and everyone around me have to hurt, so deeply, so terribly. I’ve heard it called survivor’s guilt. All I know is, I’m trying my best to grow up, and create a meaningful life for myself, while watching as this world kills people I love. Either literally, through systemic lack of healthcare, lack of economic resources, and systemic violence, or figuratively and spiritually. The lack of empathy, respect, and abundance of hatred and misery it takes for a person to see what is going on, and remain silent. To take no action, or even more horrifying, to celebrate as those you have deemed different or unworthy die. To sit in power under the protection of their economic resources and watch the rest of us burn, astounds and horrifies me to no end. They must have truly given up all hope, and any shred of connection to their humanity they once had. It is like watching the dead walk.

Oh, that’s it, isn’t it? I still feel the pain of this broken and grieving world. I still wish to protect those different from the societal norm/defaults. I still wish to stand for something bigger and better than this. That pain we’re in is a signal - yes, something is very, very wrong. It cannot be ignored any longer. That pain I feel means I have not shut myself off to the hope, humanity, and love inside of myself, that part of me that aches so badly for the sake of others. Those who look upon this mess, and feel nothing, they have become empty and hopeless shells, choosing to become numb and endless voids rather than feel that pain.

If those are my choices, I choose to hurt. I choose the panic and the aching and the sadness. I choose to let that small, but very loud part of my heart feel every ounce of the pain this world is experiencing, and I choose to scream. I choose to let her be heard. I choose to let her speak. She wants gentleness. She wants goodness. She wants redemption. She wants love. She wants healing. Broken and exhausted - battling every day for 21 years - I choose to let her voice be my guide.  

[authorgeek]

~ More Sim Edits! ~

@clumsyalienn made my OC Sims SO BEAUTIFUL. LOOK at them in these hairs. Thank you so much for the gorgeous work, the kids look FABULOUS.

[ree-duh]

Every adaptation of pride and prejudice ever: let’s cast literally the most beautiful woman you’ll ever see for Elizabeth and then for darcy I guess this man we found in the parking lot of a five guys is fine

[authorgeek]

TROS ahead:

I actually liked it!?

I had seen spoilers/lots of anger beforehand and was very scared.

[lord-kitschener]

I mean the whole damn point of the Nativity story is that the supposed son of God (interpret Jesus how you fucking want, of course) was born to a couple of poor, exhausted peasants in the stable for the inn, and his first bed was a feeding trough for animals. That would nowadays be like a poor couple where the mother gives birth in a parking garage behind the motel because they couldn’t find a better place and nobody else would take them in. It’s a pretty gritty setting, and the idea is that God was reborn in some of the rock-bottom lowest circumstances. The only thing majestic was all the angels and shit, and of course motherly love

I get that a lot of the art portraying Madonna and Child as fabulously wealthy europeans in splendid robes and golden light was meant to glorify God + whichever nobility was sponsoring the artist, and while of course it’s genuinely beautiful art, it just always struck me as horribly missing the point, which is that the supposed son of God started in incredibly humble circumstances, among the kind of people that everyone else looks down on

[ziegfeldghirl]

‘Massacre des Innocents’ by Leon Cogniét, 1824. Although the Feast of the Holy Innocents is in a couple of days time, this painting is still really relevant in that it portrays Mary as how She really was: a scared refugee mum, so fearful that Her son was going to be one of the Innocents killed by King Herod.

[durnesque-esque]

My new favorite mordern interpretation is this work, José y Maria by Everett Patterson (http://www.everettpatterson.com)

[libraford]

I had to look at this like FIVE TIMES to register all the layers of symbolism going into the piece by Patterson. 

The hoodie as a veil. 

Weisman cigarettes

Each of them is haloed by an advertisement sticker. 

No Vacancy sign on the motel. 

Dove sticker over Maria’s head. 

Neon sign with a star symbol also over Maria’s head. 

The crown over the ‘Dave’s City Motel’ sign. “New Manger.”

The sign behind Jose’s elbow likely says ‘Herod.’

The wee little plant growing through the cracks at their feet. 

It’s like a New Testament ‘I Spy.’ I love it!

Ugh.

New favorite interpretation of the nativity. 

[theprinceofprinces-deactivated2]

The paper at José’s feet has an advert for Shepard Watches Maria’s hoodie says Nazareth High School The sign above José’s head proclaims ‘Good News!’

[naamahdarling]

This is incredible and lovely.

[nakedinasnowsuit]

Maria on the coin operated pony instead of an ass.

[nerdvanauniverse]

@alwaysoutofink

[authorgeek]

I’m gonna cry

[bookworm-on-rainy-days]

[authorgeek]

@malus-syl-vestris how could you hide these gems in the notes!?