For years, I’ve been wanting to update my chronic illness and disability website. Partly because I’ve always envied people with websites that have fancy graphics and animations, and partly because, well, you and all the other lovely people who read my blog deserve a more modern experience. Until recently, I thought I could create (and …
My book can’t mean everything to everybody, but it can mean everything to me. And now it does.
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 »
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 …
I regret that it took a life-changing illness, and losing some of my privilege, for me to truly empathize with the struggles of less fortunate people. I wish I had come to this realization sooner, when I had more health and energy to help other people.
When chronic illness becomes a new kind of normal, it also becomes a cruel existence, one in which pain is a constant torture and exhaustion is as frequent as breathing.
I could see all kinds of things that I had missed when I was stuck in my bed. I could feel the breeze swirling around me; I could see hummingbirds buzzing around a tree branch above the roof. I didn’t realize it until later, but it was the first time I had been outside in two years.