Hi Darling Ones,

How are you? I have not been well, hence the extended silence. The triple-whammy of Trump’s victory + my recovery plateau + the dying of the light (erm, time change) has left me. . .

sad?
grouchy?
angry?
nihilistic?
empty?

I can’t finish that sentence and thus I haven’t written in more than a fortnight.

Where do I even being to deal with everything? How do you come to terms with being disabled and even nice than that, how do you get comfortable using that term to refer to yourself? I don’t feel as if I’m “disabled enough” to claim it, which is probably more ableism in action.

How do I hold the uncertainty of what it will mean to be disabled in Trump’s America? Half the country voted to elect a man who very famously, and publicly made fun of people who have arm tremors similar to mind.

What about being poor and disabled in a country run by a president in the pocket of billionaires? I’ve only managed to make $5000 so far this year and my savings are rapidly dwindling. I’m still hoping to get on the dole, but social security has moved its decision timing from December to February. Then what?

And then when my brain can’t handle any of that, I think of bigger picture things outside of me. What will happen to my Jewish sister and her vocally-pro-Palestinian community of educators? What will happen to women and trans folks?

People like to label these fears hysteria (of course), but these are the same people who said Row would never be overturned.

Darling ones, I’ve got the mean reds and I could use some cheering up. What do you do to get on more stable emotional ground?

I’ve mostly been hiding from everything by making tiny toys while watching cartoons. So far that has changed nothing. Now I’m trying to write about it because sometimes that helps.

Lost,
Jodisa