Working on a longer-form expansion of these feelings for the blog proper to serve as an Interlude before I go on hiatus (although actually on reflection, this may have winded up long enough), but for now I just want to say... thank you all so much for everything.
Writing this blog, I mean... people say certain artistic projects changed their lives, and before I started Lara's Ramblings I think part of me always felt that was at least a bit overexaggerated. But for a long time now I've known that it isn't, not one little bit.
I am fundamentally not the same person I was when I started half-heartedly jotting down some babbling, inane, gratuitously profanity-laden thoughts on the X-Files episodes that I was watching while recovering from a suicidal bout of depression.
This blog changed me, and has gotten me through some of the darkest times of my life. Realising that I had been sexually abused for years, coming to grips with being trans and the lingering feeling of not being "trans enough," or in the right ways, and of course, the knowledge that at just twenty years old I have effectively lost any chance of living an able-bodied life. While still having to clear stupid bureaucratic hurdles that want to insist that long COVID is not a disability.
And if I want to say that I'm grateful, I also want to package that with an acknowledgment that I'm sorry. Because underneath it all, I think no small part of my burnout has been rooted in the feeling that nobody cares about anything I do, and as base and grubby as it feels to acknowledge it that feeling really does all come down to a monetary question. And it shouldn't, because it is, at its heart, an inherently silly framing. I know, logically, that people *do* care a great deal about the things I've written, and that money shouldn't be a part of the equation.
Of course, it ultimately is. The only reason I've cared at all about money, despite it never really even being a consideration for most of the blog's existence, is that I *am* sick.
I'm lucky enough to be in a position of relative financial security, but I have never had a job, and in all likelihood, I never will. This world already makes it hellish enough to try and be remotely creative and also fit that creativity into a framework where you are judged deserving to live. Try adding disability to that equation, and usually the cold amoral calculus will come out with some flowery variation on "Well actually you don't deserve it. To live, that is."
None of that is my followers' fault, unless Jeff Bezos is actively lurking on an alt account and just keeping it on the down low, in which case, ew. But I can't lie, the relentless fucking exhaustion of being disabled has occasionally made me feel way more angry and resentful than I really should. I always knew it to be wrong and not grounded in actual material reality, buuuuut that only makes the scrupulosity OCD of "Well I'm actually a piece of shit for even *thinking* this" all the worse. Either way, I'm sorry.
I'm also sorry that I haven't been as active in responding to all the wonderful things that people have said about my blog as I would like to be. Please know that I see it all, and again, I am eternally grateful. Sometimes you just really don't have the spoons to write one more word, and you put it off until tomorrow, and then all of a sudden it's ten months later and you can hardly reply to that comment *now*.
For now, I'm focusing on getting my disability pay. I really should have done that sooner rather than wait a full three years from my initial illness, but hey, I don't always make the smartest decisions. I'm hoping that once I actually have a reliable flow of income, I should feel less pressure to... well no, let's just leave it at "I should feel less pressure." I think that about covers it.
And in turn, I'm hoping that once that happens I will feel better able to take joy in what I'm writing again, rather than the ugly, unclean feelings that are way more prevalent than they should be for me at the moment.