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Not today Justin
h
$LAYYYTER
EXPECTATIONS
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@iwishiwasgemmacollins
I yearn for a doof, on what sometimes feels like a spiritual or primal level.
These spaces that are so uniquely queer: about love and acceptance and movement and understanding and chaos and stillness. The realities of the world are briefly suspended on a dusty dance floor, and god do I want to escape reality.
Trying to depict it through imagery*
Listening to The Power of Disability on the train today gave me one of the warmest feelings I’ve had in a very long time.
I arrived to the chapter on invisible disabilities, and the dynamic struggles they bring. The author listed off a number of disabilities, all of which I knew… and then he said Crohn’s Disease.
When I heard those words, I felt like it was the first day of summer after years of cold months. I felt like I had lain down on a patch of warm sand, after being submerged in icy water for hours. I felt like I was finally being seen.
I know I am disabled. My diseases limit my ability to exist in this world. They limit my ability to walk, to play, to eat, to do, to travel, to fuck, to socialise, and sometimes to exist. And yet I still feel like I’m masquerading. Still feel like I shouldn’t be using the word disabled - as if I am taking away from someone in more pain and dealing with more ableism than I am.
It was a reminder that of course there are always going to be those dealing with harder times than you, but that doesn’t invalidate your own struggles.
I always come here to write when I’m feeling down. But that was a super magical moment.
I miss being able bodied.
When my schedule fills up, my friends need me, and the sun is shining - that is when I miss being able bodied the most.
When I seek shelter after an hour in the sun in order to slather a third layer of sunscreen on, because I am on a slew of medications that increase my chance of skin cancer, and I realise that all my innocence was carried away the day of my diagnosis: that is when I miss being able bodied.
When my friends are struggling: when they need a hand to pull them out of the darkness, but my fingers are nowhere to be found because they are busy gripping the bed in a killer vice to deal with the pain I’m feeling, that is when I miss being able bodied.
When my schedule fills up and I spend 3,4,5 days in a row, living as I used to. Working, studying, socialising, exercising. And then my body collapses, and needs at least 2 weeks to recover. That is when I miss being able bodied.
But most of all, when I get dizzy on the toilet, when I silently scream walking along Brunswick St because the skin condition on my rectum is so angry, when I don’t fuck my boyfriend for a month, when my bloating is so big and angry I have to cancel plans and lie down naked because none of my clothes fit me, when my body is the source of my pain: that is when I miss being able bodied the most.
I don’t think you’re meant to say it, but god do I miss it.
I find myself thinking about my boyfriend’s future partner so often.
I think about him going to dinner with her, and not having to watch himself when he starts talking about how much food they’ve eaten or how great it was to order an extra bowl of chips.
I think about them going home after a date night, and him fucking her. Full and complete penetrative sex, the type we’ve never been able to have.
I think about her wanting to and being able to have sex with him at all times. I think about her not having to stop him because of pain, because of a trauma response, or because of fatigue.
I think about him finally having someone to go on big hikes with. I think about them walking for hours, laughing, and her not once complaining about one or many skin conditions flaring up.
And I think about him comparing our relationships to theirs. I think about him wondering why we didn’t break up sooner, why he stayed around for so long in a relationship that required so much effort and education and empathy.
I’ve been with my partner for nearly 2 years. He has held my hand through panic attacks, face timed me before medical procedures, been open to every critique I hurl his way, and throughout all of this and more, consistently told me how sexy I am and how much he loves me. And yet, I always find myself wondering who he’ll be with when we break up. I consistently think about this mystery woman who doesn’t exist, this personification of the male gaze that lives so deeply inside of me I can never shake her. This woman who is free from disability, free from physical trauma, free from mental illness: this woman who has never existed.
Somehow I am jealous of her. Jealous of their relationship. Jealous of the ease. Jealous of everything she can give him. My ableism makes such a firm home inside of me that I can never seem to fathom why he would choose to be with a person who is chronically ill, over this fantasy.
an exploration of form.
Binging best of Gemma Collins videos on YouTube coz I’m disgustingly anxious that I’m out of remission /have convinced myself I’ll wake up to about 8 new diagnosis’s. My comforting queen, wish I could meet her n thank her for being my bestie <3
I feel lonely and depressed. I can’t get out of bed before 10am, and I spend every possible hour procrastinating. I feel isolated and alone. I am shitting myself upward of 5 times a day. I can’t walk my bum’s so sore. Drinking water makes me go to the toilet, and I can’t eat out for fear I will literally shit myself. My fatigue is debilitating… and I have the nerve to wonder why ?!?
Hello Crohn’s round 2. You are going down bby.
(Unconfirmed. I’m sure after the upcoming pelvic floor MRI, colonoscopy, gastroscopy, and endoscopy I’ll get the answer I already know. Man I do not have the funds / future career to support this goddamn disease, fuck u medical model of disability)
WRAPPED BOUQUET OF ROSES CHRISTO // 1969 [plastic flowers, plastic wrap, staples & twine | 26 x 33 x 11″]
shoot for a Naarm based jewellery brand , both models wearing sustainably made Australian brands
Thalita Farias By Emre Ünal For Dry Clean Only Magazine September 2021
The Vaginismus Diaries
For anyone with vaginismus wondering, the first step to penetrative sex AFTER you’ve achieved pretty much full (personal) penetration with the dilators, is including your partner. This is of course if you have a partner, I’m unsure the process without one as that’s not my current experience!
Last night I lay on my bed, and Ben (my partner) lay beside me, propped up on his side. I used the third dilator on myself, then got him to use it on me, in a very clinical way. The process went alright, I tightened up a few times but it was decent for a first attempt. I decided we should try the fourth dilator (there are five, each one increasing in length and width). I positioned it but closed my eyes and did a few minutes of pelvic floor squeezes and big, deep breaths before I tried to go anywhere with it. I could feel how much tighter I was compared to when I use the dilators on myself, by myself.
Ben didn’t say a single word. Instead, still on his side while I was on my back, he put one arm under my neck and the other over my chest, and held me. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t encourage or dissuade or suggest or pressure. He just held me, so I could feel him and feel how safe I am with him.
It was the most intimate moment of my life. I felt very grateful.
The Vaginismus Diaries
[actual clinical session #4]
I AM TRANSITIONING TO SEX!!!! I can start using tampons!! I’ll be able to stop with my dilators in a few months!!! I am SCREAMING AND CRYING!
I have made unreal progress with the dilators over the last few months. The worst thing you can do with vaginismus is compare your progress to anyone else’s, but I found that the things that helped me most were yoga, meditation, sunny days, a safe space, and playing soothing yoga breaths, as well as taking deep breaths and envisioning penetration with the dilator before actually using it.
Had a massive chat with my physio about how the transition to sex will go, the importance of continued and completely open communication with my partner, ensuring expectations are realistic and are about progress, and clitoral stimulation baby! I’m so sad to say goodbye to her, and she reciprocated that which was really nice to hear. I said a massive thank you to her for the way she’s genuinely changed my life, and for how much effort she put into making me feel comfortable and safe.
If someone had told me 6 months, 1 year, or 3 years ago that penetrative sex and using tampons would be possible I’d laugh in their damn face. But it’s about to be my reality! Pop off and work on yourself besties.
I’ve never really had a ‘dream uni’ or a dream course/major, but I finally found one I really wanted to do and I got in today!
The call made me so happy that I was grinning like a mad man on the train.
I have never failed at something I’ve set out to do. That’s incorrect wording - I have never not achieved something I’ve set out to do.
All my tangible goals, especially academically based, I have fulfilled (with lots of failures, falls, and new obstacles coming along the way). And yet every time I set out with a new goal, I have this overwhelming belief I will fail at it. Not that failure is a bad thing - quite the opposite. But I can’t seem to find any self belief when setting new goals and it’s infuriating.
Manifestation (because it is belief in yourself) is key and has helped shifted my mindset.
More on this later perhaps, for now I’m just gonna ENJOY!
“Perception.”
I found some of my old diaries recently.
Ever since I was 14, I was doodling and dreaming about travelling through nature, in a van, with a person I love.
The idea used to get me through long double english periods at school. I would dream about the places we’d find, the crystal clear waters we’d run into together, the shitty food we’d cook on a small gas stove, lying under a blanket of stars and talking about everything and nothing, and the way we’d cuddle up under a blanket with the back door of the van open and watch the waves. Just to name a few. I’d construct winding short stories which detailed a reality I wished existed: one of adventure and love and connection.
I’d project this fantasy onto every guy I met. I’d create such a huge expectation of this truest form of intimacy, while being completely and entirely unwilling to share any actual intimacy (kissing while sober, a proper second date, communications about emotions… truly anything).
This dream is coming true in February with Ben, when we go to Tasmania. This dream that has held my hand, stroked my hair, and created a path forward on dark days is finally coming into fruition. My dream didn’t used to include any level of codependence though. The face of the person with me was blurred - I wanted the memory, the experience, and the intimacy - I didn’t want the true connection or hard work that would get to a place of spending that many days uninterrupted in the wilderness together. The face is no longer blurred though.
I love him (so much) and I can’t wait to watch my dream come true with him.
😊😊😊.
Berglzimmer - one of the apartments in Hofburg palace, painted in 1766 by Johann Wenzel Bergl for Empress Maria Theresia | Hofburg Palace, Vienna, Austria
Sometimes I close my eyes and traipse through Europe. My history obsessed ass needs an adventure.
“Privacy.”
