Disabled Chronicles, No.8
The amount of advocating I’ve had to do for myself (and with some help) this past week has been astronomical. This has been on top of the normal fuckery people bring on the daily.
It’s also made me weary.
The landscape of my main condition has been shifting… for some time, if I’m honest. This past week was the reckoning.
I advocated for new equipment, new services and other things besides.
These recent days behind me, have been my main condition reminding me that it lives under my shirt, next to my veins, catty-corner from my DNA. Every ask has been because of it. Every concession because I realize it has made me unable in places I never let myself think it could touch.
It’s made me begin to look at Me with different eyes, a deeper introspection. It’s made me wistful at how I used to be and daunted by how I am to go forward.
These past few weeks have been rough.
I won’t pretend that I have it all under control and at the end, that it will all be okay. This is one of the few times that I will allow Me to see exactly where I’m at and to mourn all that my main condition has robbed Me of, has cheated from Me, has stolen.
Tonight? I’ll let my heart be heavy, I’ll let my eyes be teary and I will let my soul weep.
Tomorrow, I’ll set my eyes further down the road, around the next bend into new hope.