Work.

Who could of thought that this would be the four letter word that cuts me every chance it gets…especially since I can’t work. Or as my therapist would remind me, at least not in the traditional sense.

In what’s now almost a decade of time, I’ve done lots of work to heal after a lifetime of traumas and have done everything I could to survive. But work like that isn’t accepted as such in our society. This society that so very much places a person’s ‘productivity’ as one of a few metrics in terms of a person’s worth above all else! (As if a person’s worth could even be accurately defined by any metric.) But alas, this is our world — and for people like me, the message is very clear:

“You don’t fucking matter.”

This message of course is often followed with a whole barrage of other fun little put-downs like:

“You’re being lazy”

“You’re not trying hard enough”

“You’re being overdramatic”

“You’re a burden”

“You’re need to ‘pull you weight’”

“You’re faking”

“You’re lying to everyone and yourself”

“It’s that bad”

“It could be worse”

And so on & so on.

It’s like an endless stream of constant ableism (rooted in fucked up colonialist rhetoric 🤡). I should know better. I mean — I do know better…don’t I?

But that’s the thing about unlearning these kinds of stuff. It makes perfect sense on paper and it’s easy enough to preach to others…but to actually put into practice? On ourselves? Oof.

That’s like going to triage after a some catastrophic event and you’re scrambling as you try your best to figure out what to do. But where does it all start? Ok, now do you start from there or do you have to start somewhere else? Is the root of the problem the place that’s currently bleeding out most or is that some other location? Do you press down to try and stop that spot of bleeding? Do you try to rush into surgery? Do you need a transplant? Do you need to amputate? Do you need a crash cart? WHERE IS THE DAMN CRASH CART?!?

Yup. It’s a lot.

Now, when you’re like me and have lived a lifetime of traumas, it’s even more complex because it’s like you’ve always been in triage mode. Never leaving that state of mind ever, not once. Thus, unlearning/healing is like going from dealing with just a floor or two of the hospital to realizing the catastrophe(s) were so bad that you now have to commandeer the whole damn thing. All the floors, all the triage.

It’s a lot. So much so that I often find myself in awe of other disabled folk who are out there doing the same thing as I am except, as my mind would put it, better. How are they making content, publishing articles, writing entire books, going out & all the while managing to survive? How are they doing what seems like so much when it I’m doing what seems in comparison to be so little?

Then, I look at those who aren’t like me — be in race, wealth, disability, etc. — as they pop up everywhere. Not always because I want to either, it’s just that you can’t escape any of it. People seem to be hustling and thriving everywhere! This is our world. Our world that consistently measures us by the capitalist standards and upholds productivity above all else. And for me, I can’t help but feel shame for simply existing in this world. So. Much. Shame. Then, guilt, confusion & and a buttload of devastation. I think about all the plans I had for myself — how many of them still apply? How many can I actually accomplish? How can I be ‘realistic’ about all of this while remembering not to hold myself to the same standards that basically define & run our entire society?

I— I don’t know.

I wish I did though.

Oh god do I fucking wish I did.

But I don’t. I’m sorry if you came here thinking somehow I’d have a clever tip or two to help you out…but I have nothing. I’m truly just making shit up as I go — desperately trying not to make any same mistakes past me did, all the while trying to decolonize this mind so that once in a while I cut myself of goddamn slack. Failing lots of the times and succeeding only partly.

As you can see, it’s very much a work in progress.

But! — I do have some kind words. Words I wish someone would stop and tell me. Words I wish I could honestly tell myself without following it up with a bunch of self-depreciation. So if you need it, want it, or whatever:

You are trying to unlearn ideas placed upon you since birth, entire systems that run almost everything in our society. That kind of work — yes, work — doesn’t happen overnight. Like most healing, it’s a grueling process and one that’s not linear. You are human. By the very definition of humanity, you are an inherently flawed being. But the fact that you are still trying, the fact that you are willing to grow — it shows how amazing you are. The way our society is, brilliance is rarely recognized within a person’s lifetime. Neither is true beauty. But I hope for your sake that yours will be (— and mine too!). I hope our brilliance & beauty get to shine and be recognized for what they are. I hope the very best for you, my kindred spirit. I hope you shower yourself with love and get double that from others. However, if you are ever at a loss for love, I hope you remember these words. Never forget that you are a work of art in the making. Whoever can’t see that is the one at loss not you.