diariesofanexballerina2
My battle with Rheumatoid Arthritis
29, Allie, Anemia, Allergies, Alopecia, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Eosinophilic Esophagitis
241 posts
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When absolutely 0 of Biden’s accomplishments have made any kind of news, and we’ve been fed a steady diet of fear and panic for 3 years, no one gets to be shocked when he loses the next election to Donald 2.0.
Posting anything positive about the president here will get you called a capitalist bootlicker.
What do we expect to happen?
Anger sells better. Anger feels better, it feels righteous.
It’s easier to protest against a president you don’t like then to actually remain in charge and keep pushing ahead, even if small, consistent accomplishments are all you receive.
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Protect yourself during earthquakes!
If possible, DROP! COVER! HOLD ON!
Using cane, DROP! COVER! HOLD ON!
Using walker, LOCK! COVER! HOLD ON!
Using wheelchair LOCK! COVER! HOLD ON!
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So, I'm trans. And several years ago, I was at my great grandfather's funeral. 17, newly on T, barely out to anyone other than my close friends and family. And I'm standing there at the refreshment's table, surrounded by strangers and members of my family's church, when George walks up to me.
This man is ancient, bent like a finger and frail. Tufts of white hair surround his wrinkled face. Like always, he's wearing thick glasses, massive hearing aids, and his veteran's hat. George was my first introduction to the concept of war, when he told me as a child why he was missing two fingers on his hand. He's been a fixture at church since I can remember. I've only ever seen him at there or in uniform at parades, the rest of his time spent in a nursing home somewhere. He picks up a deviled egg and says, in his quiet voice,
"You know, before your grandfather died, he told me that now he had 3 grandsons."
I'm frozen in place. I don't know what to say to that, if I should say anything at all. This is not a conversation I expected to have, especially not with this man. But he continues.
"I didn't know what he meant! So he explained it to me."
And I can imagine it. My great grandfather, uninformed and opinionated but supportive, explaining to his friend the news he barely understood himself over after-service coffee and cookies. His eldest grandchild was now a boy.
"And, you know, I didn't know what to think."
Here, George looks me up and down. This 90-something year old war veteran, who knew me mostly as the little girl playing in the church kitchen with his wife, processing what my great grandfather had really meant. It feels like a long pause, even thought it probably passed in a second.
"But you look good. So, eh!"
And then he smiled, shrugged, and walked away without another word. If I was fine, if I was happier, then that's all that mattered.
George passed away this week, at the age of 99. This memory has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if or how I should share it. It was a conversation that meant very little, but also meant the world. It was scary, and funny, and the moment when I realized that sometimes the people you least expect will accept you. Sometimes, even if they don't fully understand, even if they barely know you, someone will choose to support you. And that will always matter.
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i learned about Marion Stokes, a Philadelphia woman who began taping whatever was on television in 1979 and didn’t stop until her death in 2012.. The 71,000 VHS and Betamax tapes she made are the most complete collection preserving this era of TV. They are being digitized by the Internet Archive. (x)
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the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.
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Autonomy
I have this one very specific moment in my life. As a result of this came the most momentous and tranquil feeling I’ve ever encountered. For some it may be simple but for me it has always been a rarity. Now let me paint a picture of this significant point in time.
It’s a warm summer night, almost 3 o’clock in the morning. I’m wearing a tank top, blue jean shorts and my face was sun kissed from the day before. My 21st birthday just passed, so I decide to head to the local Royal Market for a blunt wrap and a 40oz. I’m walking across the big empty parking lot. Not a worry, thought, or opinion about myself, anything or anybody . Not a car in sight, not one person, shit…. not even a stray cat. The summer air was still, and soft, similar to a warm hug. I breath in and the air was so fresh I could feel my lungs expand with each inhale. I then consciously decide to stop walking.
As I stop dead in my tracks i am standing in the middle of this parking lot. When I say middle I mean that it felt like I was standing precisely in the center of everything, something, and nothing at all. I’m standing with my feet together, arms at my side, while my chin is up and I’m looking to the sky. I realize that I have grown out of adolescence and that I am a woman. Within that exact moment I felt freedom. My phones dead, I don’t have to be at work, my mom has no idea what I’m up to, hopefully she’s sound asleep at home. I exonerated all shame, judgement, all of the restraints that my youth had me in. I was just existing.
It was that moment where I felt complete solitude and I allowed myself to be carefree. I looked into my soul and I, for the first time, accepted myself unconditionally. All while having the realization that being fully present unburdens us from our regrets of the past and lifts the worries about what’s to come in our future. Sometimes we just need to take midnight stroll to the corner store for a blunt wrap and a 40oz. I know I needed it.
xoxo
Lana
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