trying on a metaphor
roma★
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Cosimo Galluzzi
wallacepolsom
we're not kids anymore.
Not today Justin
Origami Around
🪼
Sade Olutola
Kaledo Art
if i look back, i am lost
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
One Nice Bug Per Day
JVL
occasionally subtle
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Three Goblin Art
seen from United States
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seen from Croatia
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seen from Croatia
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@elegantqueerdo-blog
i made this bicycle. her name is 2 $tre$$’d 2 b ble$$’d. due to fibroflares and herniated discs i haven’t been able to ride her for a WHILE. but i’m getting a cortisone epidural this week and i’m hoping, HOPING, that my pain will lessen enough so i can ride her EVERYWHERE. i love freakbikes, making them, riding them. and i shall ride again! OH YES, I SHALL RIDE AGAIN!
here in our bedroom... my partner turns THIRTY tomorrow & i’m thirty-five and yes, we still sleep under a dinosaur blanket. comfort and geeky compatibility. never grow up.
i’m crying.
the barry j bluejeans to my lup. i’m so lucky to have you, alex. and, no, i’m not crying. (just kidding, i’m sobbing hysterically.)
Waiting is the dumbest part.
Waiting for a call back from the neurosurgery department coordinator to FINALLY schedule an appointment with a neurosurgeon is stressing me out so much. At least I know this particular doctor/clinic takes my shitty Medicaid insurance. That is a relief. But waiting to get an appointment is an epic nightmare. I just want to know what is wrong with my fucking back. Why my spine is growing extra bone. Why I’m still in pain from what I was told was JUST a herniated disc. Why I keep pissing myself. Cos, y’know, being a thirty-five year old femme with a Poise-brand urinary leak pad in their undies is really awful for one’s self esteem. I feel like shit. I want this taken care of ASAP. It’s already been over a month since the pain became unbearable. Since I had to quit my job. Since I’ve been on tramadol. Since I’ve gotten no other comfort. Since I’ve basically been told by my primary care doctor that it’s all in my head.
I’m tired cos I stayed up too late last night. My former lover was in town and we haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s one of my favorite people so I stayed up with him shooting the shit until 3am. Which is about 5 hours later than I usually stay up. He stayed over, slept on our gross, stinky couch. We hung out in my dirty kitchen once I finally got out of bed at noon. We watched cartoons and talked about our lives. How we’re not the marrying types. How we’re getting old (he’s 42) but we’re still doing rad things with our lives. At least he is... My life is on hold. But I love him and I will always love him and sometimes he feels like he’s the “one that got away” but in reality he’s not. We’re meant to be friends, platonic lovers. And I do love him so much. But I love my partner even more I think. Alex is kind of the best partner I could hope and pray for, not that I pray.
Anyways, we went out for lunch and then he dropped me off at home and now here I sit waiting, waiting, waiting for the neurosurgery clinic coordinator to FINALLY call me back.
I want to take a nap but seeing as I haven’t even been awake for three hours that seems ridiculous. I guess I’ll attempt to do my dishes while listening to gOst and drinking coffee. Rainy days and Thursdays, am I right?
my partner is younger than rihanna. i feel so old.
when your doctor doesn’t listen...
“it’s just a herniated disc. i don’t know why it hasn’t healed, why your symptoms are increasing, and why you’re still in pain... it just doesn’t make sense.”
I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!
it has been a full four weeks of ER visits, x-rays, MRIs, pain meds, pissing myself, screaming in agony, and doctors who belittle me, shrug me off, and tell me it’s “not as bad as i’m making it out to be”... i’ve been told to go to physical therapy, then told not to. i’ve been told it might be ankylosing spondylitis, that this herniated disc is pressing on my spine, sandwiched between new bone growth and spinal cord. then told go to a neurosurgeon ASAP. but then told again that it’s JUST a herniated disc and it should have healed by now.
i feel like i’m losing my mind, that i’m not being listened to, that i’m doing something WRONG, being a BAD patient. that i’m bipolar and therefore a drug-seeking hypochondriac. i’m struggling and sick and tired and having yet another fibro flare on top of it all.
i am still waiting for a referral for a neurosurgeon and i’m still in pain in some places, numb in others, dizzy, clumsy, barely able to walk. but, like, it’s probs all in my head. (that’s actually BULLSHIT.)
i’m going to take a nap. then i’m going to wake up, drink coffee, and then get drunk with my partner. fuck a whole lot of this shit.
big mouth, big privilege
upper middle class college educated stereotypically “alternative” but still conventionally attractive able-bodied straight cis white girls in their mid-twenties getting memoirs about their manic pixie dream girl-style “sexy” mental illnesses and easily digestible traumas published screams of privilege and makes my fat ugly crippled traumatized queer trans writer self wanna vomit into a shit-stained toilet.
HELP SURVIVAL SEX WORKERS NOW- Two workers in our community recently transitioned from street work to motel work. They currently do not have smartphones and two cheap smartphones would greatly improve their safety—1. Because they can reach each other if something goes wrong and 2. They can have quick access to apps that help us with screening.
It will cost $207 to get them two phones and a month of service. If you can help please send now to Caty:
PayPal [email protected]
Messenger Caty Simon
Venmo Catherine-Simon-6
Caty will share the Boost bill for transparency.
The faster we can make this happen the sooner we can create safer working conditions for these women!
signal boost.
Schizophrenic people are 14 times more likely to be victims of a violent crime than commit one.
“(Schizophrenic) Individuals in this sample were at least 14 times more likely to be victims of a violent crime than to be arrested for one. In general, the risk associated with being in the community was higher than the risk these individuals posed to the community”
This means that neurotypicals are a much bigger threat to schizophrenic people than schizophrenic people are to neurotypicals.
You can now shove all your “psycho killer” stereotypes up your ass.
please reblog, folks who aren’t living with schizophrenia. this is important, this is real.
Realizing my socioeconomic status, my coinciding chronic illnesses, my family history of heart disease, and the medications I take for my mental illnesses is going to be the shaken cocktail of why I die earlier and more painfully than a lot of the population makes me want to kill myself on the spot. I mean, I won’t do it. I want to live and fight (even if it’s from my bed, floating on pain meds and heating pad) so my comrades in crip and I can forge a better future for the baby crips out there. But holy shit, I just want to give up right now.
tough cute femme n crip. i love my look today.
hopelessness is overwhelming me today.
No one follows me so no one will see this but I am suicidal today. So depressed. So scared. Clumsy. Confused. The brain fog of chronic illness is taking control of me today. I think about swallowing all my pills. I think about walking in front of the 22 bus that drives by my house every 28 minutes. I think about how I don’t want to be here. My back pain is overwhelming. My depression is overwhelming. This migraine is overwhelming. I want my partner. I want to die. I want to be held and loved and fucked. I want to disappear.
I want to not be in this body.
I love watching my Instagram followers dwindle as I continue to chronicle my disabilities. Yeah, I know you don’t have to follow me, but when I post pictures of all the amazing food I cook y’all cool as fuck. But when I talk about my cane, street harassment, intersectional feminism, and being a nonbinary queer femme it’s like 202 followers down to 198. I don’t wanna know who’s unfollowing me either. Cos, like, I’m a strong bitch but it still hurts that you cannot handle the realities of MY life.
some friends, am I right?
The More You Know?
Some things I’ve learned:
1.) I am a burden to the tax payers of America cos I’m an unemployed disabled person. I am not worthy of assistance cos I am at the moment unable to be employed.
2.) Some feminists still think Susan B. Anthony is an icon. I mean, these “feminists” are all white ladies and probably TERFS, so yeah. Gross.
3.) My back is more fucked than ever and I’m heading towards paralysis if I don’t get surgery.
4.) I can’t get surgery cos no neurosurgeons in Wisconsin take Medicaid.
5.) I’m just, like, constantly pissed off. Can’t imagine why.
my partner & me. (i’m the one on the left.) i love you, alex.
that feeling when Leroy Moore follows you back on Instagram and you feel so blessed by his work, his life, and that the two of you are now, even if only on social media, able to see and hear and maybe collaborate. crips finding crips on the internet. bless you, sins invalid. bless you and thank you.
