The day I surrendered to my limp, and went out and bought my cane,
I was through with the burden of feet. Instead,
I am going to become a mermaid. If i am going to be stared at, it should at least be because I’m beautiful.
I have always liked the ocean, the promise
of depth. I am tired of this dry world,
all of this dust and sickness, these barren fields.
I want to dive without drowning. I want to kiss sharks. I want to braid my hair with seaweed and mythology.
I want men to carve me into the bows of their ships
like a prayer, before I lure them into the depths
with my fishnet mouth. I want the beauty,
the gorgeous mutation, the legend of half body.
All the wisdom of a woman, without the failures of sex.
I am plunging. I am sinking. I am not coming up for air.
I do not want all this human,
my legs move like they resent being legs,
my body is wrecked by all this gravity.
I cannot face another morning waking up
with no hope of a fairytale. Here on land, i cannot move. Here on land, i cannot breath.
I am always drowning. Here on land,
I cannot move.
This is the most most heinous thing I’ve learned in my two years compiling Fatal Encounters. You know who dies in the most population-dense areas? Black men. You know who dies in the least population dense areas? Mentally ill men. It’s not to say there aren’t dangerous and desperate criminals killed across the line. But African-Americans and the mentally ill people make up a huge percentage of people killed by police.
and especially men and women at the intersections of blackness or brownness and mental disability.(via disabilityhistory)
My husband’s new job is delayed (boss lady has been stranded somewhere in Central America?), as is the promised salary advance, and we are absolutely drowning after slow sales and too much time spent waiting.
If you know poverty, then you know how it goes: there was not enough money to cover the rent check- so it bounced, causing the phone/internet/utilities to pile up, triggering an avalanche of overdraft fees.
Our account is currently negative more than $400- even after two weeks of deposits.
Now this financial disaster is impacting everything: I’m out of several prescriptions, food is running incredibly low and I’m constantly going hungry, we need a new car battery asap, I can’t afford textbooks or mandatory online access codes. I couldn’t even scrounge up $10 cash to visit the school clinic today to address my current sinus/lung/kidney/bladder infection situation.
My father has refused to cosign a small student loan, and then changed his mind after agreeing to purchase my books. My sisters refused to pick up my meds or loan me cash to see the doctor. D’s doing odd jobs and running the shop and doing everything he can.
I know. I know this kind of thing seems to happen to us repeatedly, but that is exactly how the cycle of poverty works.
So if you can help me, then I’ll help you! Visit our shop, and save 20% off your entire order with coupon code TWENTYTWENTYTWENTY
I also have a PayPal donate button on the bottom right side of my blog, and I’ll add the cheaper books I need to my Amazon wishlist.
Thank you in advance for your love and support.
I have a really exciting Spoonie Living announcement for y’all! When I started on my 6-month medical leave from work, one of my goals was to create a zine for new spoonies, to help them hit the ground running as they begin their chronic illness experience. I’m calling it Chronically Badass, and it’s finally done!
Here’s what I cover inside:
- Spoon theory
- Getting answers
- Working with doctors
- Work & school
- Friends & family
- Mental health
- Coping strategies
- Online communities
It’s free for download right here (although you’re welcome to donate if you like), so be sure to check it out!
Please also reblog and spread the word so others can find and benefit from this zine.
chronic illness problem:
when all your meds seem to stop working at once.
holy fuckballs I always forget how much tattoos hurt! this is very painful husband and wife bonding time lol
I’m hoping I’ll finally be able to sit through him finishing the outline of the purple “fuck” in the Andrea Gibson collage on my thigh. yay yay yay
okay, I’m sorry I keep doing this to you all
I’m remaking my donation post because the old one was just getting really long as I kept adding information.
So here’s what happened in the last few months:
same as before, my awesome wheelchair that I bought off e-bay is in…