Choosing rest over creating "public awareness"
A “damn, I am really in this Disabled body” moment

I am writing this on December 3rd, “World Disabilities Day,” and I am unsure if this will be posted on the day or not. After recovering from my recent brain procedures, I’m trying to figure out a new pace. “You’ll really have to be moving slower now, huh??” my therapist asked me during our last session as I told her about what had happened over the previous few weeks. I sit today, on a day aimed to bring awareness about Disabled folks, conflicted on whether I should rush this post for the sake of “sharing” on the day that this would be most resonant or if I should take my time. I keep leaning toward the approach of taking my time. Taking my time feels the most accessible and stays true to my current access needs. Even as a person who meditates often and tries to start their days with slowness and intention, I know I don’t always live all day at that desired pace.
You probably have gathered that I did some time hopping and listening to my body and moved slowly in putting together this entry. I’ve been moving between waves of extreme tiredness and wanting to get back to how things were for me in terms of my overall capacity to do things. I have been surrounded by many more people than usual these last several days, which is exhausting for me, but at the same time, I’m so grateful to be surrounded by so much loving care. I can be a hermit sometimes, so it’s been a little tough to figure out how to straddle a new line after what happened. I have also been getting back into my freelance work, which has been nice, yet I am still moving at a pace that is asking for more time and grace from my clients. I am thankful to have received so much understanding of how I am moving and recovering. It’s vulnerable to share what’s been going on and ask for extensions for projects, space from people, and patience when responding to a loved one. It pays off when my boundaries and needs are responded to with pivots that help everyone move forward more easily. This is why I choose to be open about me being Disabled. Being open about my health only shows more of my humanity, helps me create better boundaries, and helps me become more conscious in my body.

I am teetering between the lines of old and new ways of living. Atlanta has been rainy and cloudy these past few days, helping me rest and recover. It’s been lovely being back at home versus in the Hospital. I have been reflecting a lot on what’s been happening as I’ve been recovering, and it’s wild when our bodies finally catch up after constant need. The other day I was sitting and realized, “wait, I had a subdural hematoma?” I am adapting to the changes in my body with its new scars and their soreness as they heal. In this process of adapting, I also started physical therapy to help my body regain balance when walking after the procedures I underwent.
This year has been rough medically for me. I started it off with dental surgery, then my hearing aid broke, and then this occurred. This isn’t by any means a “woe is me” sort of thing; it’s more of a “damn, I am really in this Disabled body” moment. I’ve mentioned this before, but for so long, I used to ignore my Disabled body, partially because I was so dissociative. I didn’t know how to be in my body; frankly, the pitfalls that’d show up when I was in presence didn’t always make me want to be in my body. I grew up in Hospitals and around doctors as a child.
There were moments when I’d feel nostalgia moving through this past medical emergency, thinking about the times I had surgeries as a child. I was transported back in time. There were moments, too, though, where I was just frustrated. This time I could communicate my pain or discomfort. This time, I could be able to voice things versus just trying to please doctors.
I’m listening to my body and the alarms it is sounding off. Not only am I listening, but I am also grieving. Grieving the things that were not communicated that had shed to light. Processing what’s been hidden and how to move forward from that to live a life where I properly take care of my body’s needs.
Truly recognizing that I’m Nonbinary & Disabled showed me how I can be in my body and why I should strive to work on continuing to be in it. Being in any sort of presence isn’t easy, especially when you’re in pain. On the flip side, being present also can mean having the awareness to give yourself the care you need when and if you are in any kind of pain. Even with the pain, I turn to art. I draw and write things to help me process what’s been happening.

Art, whether creating or consuming, continues to lead and calm me down. I have so many art pieces in my workspace that give me joy and remind me to slow down. I also create work to remind myself and others to do the same. Creating these pieces with calming messages is often one of my self-soothing in times of stress or lack of safety.
For me, being in my body asks me to work toward getting my needs met when I feel discomfort or lack of safety. That can look like asking for medical help, getting rest when needed, correcting folks who misgender me, asking somebody to repeat themselves in case my hearing aid didn’t catch what was being said, or asking for general assistance with everyday tasks that I can’t always fulfill.
Being in a body is vulnerable, and can feel even more vulnerable when we communicate discomfort. I feel a little shaken by what happened just a few weeks ago. I’ve been collecting myself as best as I can. Community continues to show up, and I acknowledge that my openness about me being Disabled, despite the deeply vulnerable place it puts me in at times, leads me to receive grace from others. It’s not always been this way, and I know that I’ll interact with others who won’t get the scope of what I navigate living as I am. I’d rather be vulnerable and try than “tough it out” only to regret not being my true self.

Winter solstice is right around the corner, and this season is always slow in nature and daily life. I loved this tweet from Mia Mingus and felt it truly resonated in regard to what I am moving through. My world will continue and is continuing. I can’t be in a rush to continue it, even if I feel pressure to do so based on systems outside of me. I am deeply grateful that my openness is received with so much love. I am sending so much love to you in return.