My Book is Officially Published!
My book can’t mean everything to everybody, but it can mean everything to me. And now it does.
My book can’t mean everything to everybody, but it can mean everything to me. And now it does.
It’s been a rough year. I think we can all agree on that, so I thought I’d share some good news—my health has been improving lately. The other day I got out of bed and stood up three times in the span of a few hours, the most I’ve done in my walking rehabilitation in …
It’s hard not to be consumed by bitterness and anger. In the macro sense, it’s hard for me because, well, my life hasn’t turned out the way I imagined it would. I’m 32 and haven’t walked in more than five years, I’ve been through intense physical and emotional trauma, and because of my illness, I …
For me, it all comes down to the simple truth that if I don’t take unsolicited advice seriously, I won’t get upset that random strangers with no credentials or medical training think they know what’s best for my health.
I’ve never disagreed with anyone on the fact that our illness needs more research funding and more treatments. These basic needs will never be disagreed upon within the community, and it is especially important to remind ourselves of that when things get heated.
I’ve been on a hunt for the best mattress for a disabled person, like me, ever since I ruined my last several mattresses. How exactly does one ruin a mattress? The obvious guess might be to have lots and lots and LOTS of sex. And as fun as that would be, I’m not convinced it …
How to Ruin a Mattress . . . And Other Things I’m Good At Read More »
It’s hard to be hopeful that a cure for ME/CFS will be found when the entire world is looking for a cure for a different illness.
I hope everyone remembers what it was like, how it felt to live in this strange alternative universe of fear and social distancing. I hope everyone remembers it because some people will have to keep living it.
My first job was working the front desk at a gym for minimum wage, long before disability rights were on my mind. I scanned member ID cards, re-racked weights, and cleaned the entire gym — wiping up people’s saliva from the sinks and their sweat off the treadmills, sanitizing the toilets and showers, and picking …
The need to speak my mind, and the heartache of not being able to, has only made the moment more palpable, more intense and full of emotion. But no amount of emotion is going to change my circumstances. No matter how hard I try, I can’t speak the words I want to say.