Well, Darling Ones,

The day I was anxiously anticipating has come & gone.

Yesterday was my Social Security disability hearing. Three years after my stroke, two(ish) years after applying, two rejections, and roughly 15 minutes of a hearing, the judge granted my claim for Social Security disability.

Ya girl is getting on the dole!

I’m relieved and overwhelmed. My friends and fam are over the moon for me. My mom even cried when Sister #4 told her. I love the way my friend Em responded, “Can I go back to just worrying about the dumb stuff you do instead of your basic survival?”

Permission was granted.

Today I am out of sorts. My head is extra wooshy, making me more discombobulated than usual. My theory is that my body has gotten so used to the stress and anxiety of imminent financial ruin that it doesn’t know what to do now that it has escaped danger.

Of course, being the half pessimist, I won’t fully believe the saga is truly over until there’s money in the bank. According to my lawyer that might as early as June. But there’s no guarantee. He apologized profusely for the delay and I felt bad for him. It’s not his fault the government moves slowly. Clearly he has dealt with a lot of angry clients in the past. I was just happy the judge gave us his decision on the phone, that was unexpected.

I was a little bummed the judge didn’t wanted to hear my soliloquy on the importance of punctuation in both HTML code and English writing. My ode to the period would have made grown men weep with its beauty.

My lawyer warned me the day before the hearing that nobody ever got in trouble for saying too little. HRMPH! I kept my answers short and to the point and did not go into what a tragedy it is lose the ability physically read books. While I love and give thanks to audiobooks, it’s not the same. You, the book in your hands, the words on paper, that cannot be duplicated.

Losing your longest-held, most-comforting ritual in your 50s sucks rocks. I deserve financial compensation. Beverly Cleary give me strength!

So now we cross our finger that I have enough money for the next few months and then we move on to figuring out what comes next when you’re not constantly worrying about money. This should be fun!

Not so dolefully yours,
Jodi

The post Getting on the Dole appeared first on I Will Dare.

Hiya Darling Ones,

How goes it?

Here in the North Star State we’re in for a blizzard that could drop anywhere from 4-22 inches of snow on us according to the weather terrorists. Of all the things I’m good at, hunkering down is probably what I’m beat at. An introverted spinster who’s lived alone for 25+ years? I am the Serena Williams of hunkering down.

My hunkering plans include catching up on my many ignored crochet projects. I’m a month and a half behind on Temp Blanket 2026 and the less said about the State Fair one the better.

I’m very much the distracted boyfriend meme and Art Practice is my new obsession.

Do you know you can put colorful blobs and squiggles on stuff and be released from all that ails you for a brief and glorious moment? YOU CAN! It’s astounding.

Right now I’m copycatting things I see on Instagram (see above), doing the watercolor sketchbook, and working through a YouTube drawing class.

For the most part, I’ve been arting at least once a day. This week hasn’t been the best with the time change & an especially difficult eye treatment, but I still squeezed in some.

Taking up art feels like the best thing I’ve done for my poor damaged brain and janky body since I’ve existed.

Pre-stroke writing and reading were my favorite form of escape. I could go someplace else, immerse myself in someone else’s life. Post-stroke it isn’t the same. While I’m most grateful for audiobooks and the library that lends them to me, it’s not the same as reading a paper book with your eyes. The experience, for me, isn’t as immersive. I’m still aware of my body and its surroundings. This holds true for writing too. Even as I type there’s a part of my brain constantly noticing the tension and heaviness in my right side.

When I’m painting or drawing that noticing is much less frequent and I’m able to be more forgiving with myself. The heaviness and tremor are still there, my scoop will forever be floppy. But my brain is also noticing how the color looks on paper, how the watercolor moves across the surface. It’s thinking about what I should do next, what color, what blob, what squiggle. I can go entire minutes without thinking about my scoop or noticing my distorted vision. It is the best. THE BEST!

I’ve had a fraught history with my body. Last summer Sister #2 made a comment about how she could tell I don’t feel safe in my body. I don’t know if I responded, but I’ve thought about that phrase a lot, “safe in my body.”

Was that something people feel on the regular? What does it really mean? Have I ever felt safe in my own body? I would tentatively say, no. My body has never been a safe space. It has been a constant source of attention, often cruel and unwanted. I’d venture to guess that part of the reason I’ve chosen to live alone for most of my adult life is to protect me from that attention, even from well-meaning people who love me.

You know what though? When I’m arting I feel safe in my body. Is this how people walk around all the time with their meat sack not causing angst and fear? I hope so, because it’s kind of rad even when I experience it in teeny, tiny amounts.

Mind blown,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

Even before the fascists regained control of our country (which wasn’t so hot before), I vowed I would spend 2025 noticing and celebrating happiness.

This is a project I’ve been half-assedly attempting since the triple whammy of my dad’s death, The Stroke, and the end of my 24-year friendship with BFK all in the span of 11 months. I had, and have, a lot of reasons to wallow in woe is me.

To be fair, after this week we ALL have a lot of reasons to wallow. I need to say that because lots of people really want to win The Suffering Olympics and tell me how much sadder/rougher/whathaveyou their life is. I refuse to participate. Everyone’s fighting a hard battle and all that. Plus, I don’t think you get a trophy upon death for having suffered the most. If you do, you can find me in the afterlife and brag about your trophy.

One of things that I’ve noticed since BFK broke up with me is how much I allowed her energy to impact mine. It sounds woo woo, but hear me out. BFK had a lot of misery in her life some real and some trumped up for attention’s sake. I carried a lot of her anger and sadness in solidarity, and it was exhausting, but I did it because I love her. I will do that for everyone I love. It’s part of being human. However, it’s frustrating to see someone miserable for years and years and refusing to do anything about it. Part of the reason BFK dumped me is that I told her she needed to do something different to change that. Oops.

As my friend EM said, nobody wants to hear they’re in charge of their own happiness. Another thing I need to say: mental health and neurodivergence makes happiness more difficult for some. I know!

The worst part about writing on the internet is people think if you don’t mention every fucking situation then you are ignorant of those things. It’s hard to cover all the bases in one simple blog post.

It was not my plan to have this week filled with small happy things, but it happened. I’m going to share a few with you.

• While I was not pleased with this news, Dr. Davies, my eye guy, was thrilled that my eyes have been stable since November. He claims that’s good. I claim it’s crap because my vision is still garbage (the distortion persists). He and my neurologist seem to think stability is good and I’m all, “that’s like thinking Cs are good.”
• On Wednesday I got to meet my friend Hotrod in real life. We’ve been arguing on the Internet for about 20 years (we think), but this is the first time we got to spend time together. You think it’d be strange to meet someone you’ve known online for 20 years, but it was surprisingly not awkward. We took a pic together before he left Supergenius HQ and texted it to our families and they were as happy about the visit as he and I were. He gave me a Pie book, which I’ll talk about later.
• I got a new water softener. Spending $1500 on it was not my favorite, but the plumber kid was my favorite. He was not a child, and I almost pooped my pants when he said he was 38. He almost pooped his pants when I told him I had a stroke. “You’re too young to have a stroke,” he said. So yes, I love him.
• I also love him because when were setting up the installation I asked him if he wanted a deposit or something and he said, “Nah, I trust you.” I told him I was a freelancer and I said the same thing to my clients.
• Some Darling Ones threw some cash my way and that really helped with the Water Softener. Plus, I got to buy some yarn because one of them said that’s what the money was for (thank you!)
• I hung an old drawer organizer on my wall. It started as a way to display some of the thimble collection my Grandma Chromey started for me, and then I added my best rocks, one of dad’s Pez dispenser, five Burnt Sienna crayons, and some of my other toys. Now I’m obsessed and accepting rocks, happy meal toys, and other garbage to put on it.
• My friend Solace was all, you should listen to the new jasmine.4.t record, specially the song Tall Girl.

It was a week that did my mood good, Darling Ones, and I wanted to share that with you.

Love,
Jodi

The post This Week appeared first on I Will Dare.

Hey Darling Ones,

Earlier this week while I was deep in grief I read some of the archives to see what I had written last year around this time.

I wrote about the movie “Reality Bites” and my nihilistic streak and why I was mad at Dave Grohl

Writing about pop culture is one of the Before Jodi things I missed the most. It is also the thing I have the most control over. So, this year I’m gonna try to do a monthlyish round-up of things I’ve dug recently — books, movies, TV, snacks, etc. So here goes.

Stone Blind by Natalie Haynes

I love a good feminist retelling of Greek mythology. They are very much my jam. I’ve read a bunch of them featuring Circe, the women of Troy, Cassandra, and Clytemnestra — to name a few. Hoo, do I have some opinions about Agamemnon.

This one about Medusa and her sisters is double-A+ fantastic. I have had a Medusa thing for awhile. Maybe since I started pondering my own monstrousness. I have a Medusa shirt I wear all the time. The only reason I’m not wearing it right now is because I took a shower last night and that called for fresh clothes.

This book made me both laugh out loud and cry real tears.

ALSO, if this is your kind of thing, you can read Gwen E. Kirby’s excellent short story “Shit Cassandra Saw That She Didn’t Tell the Trojans Because at that Point Fuck Them Anyway” for free. Her whole short story collection is seventeen fire emojis.

“Weird Faith” Madi Diaz

I discovered Madi Diaz back in 2022, and we eagerly anticipating this new record. It came out yesterday. I’ve listened to it six times from front to back. It’s the kind of bold and vulnerable songwriting that makes me want to stare into the middle distance while absorbing every single lyric.

Rebecca Solnit: How to Comment on Social Media

This satire piece killed me. Not only is it dead on, but I recognize how I try to head off some of these comments when I’m writing. Especially number four:
“That is, anything not declared in the post is something O.P. does not care about/is complicit with. Every expression of concern is in fact an expression of unconcern about something else. . .”

Number seven also hits home.

“Finally if the post is about something O.P. cares about, remember that you’ve cared about it longer, deeper, harder than they have, and that even someone’s care can be a basis for your triumph, along with condemning them for all those other things they evidently do not care about.”

I get this one a lot whenever I mention that I love The Replacements or the age of iwilldare.com (23+ years). People love to tell me they once had a blog in the late-90s or early-aughts.

Not that they have continuously written about their life on the internet for two-decades, but that they did once before I did.

Ok.

“June”

I loved this documentary on Paramount+ about June Carter Cash. It gives her the respect she’s due as a full-formed artist before she even met Johnny Cash. It talks about her goals as an artist and a woman. It also mentions, repeatedly, that she wrote “Ring of Fire.” Plus, it was both Dolly and Willie in it.

That’s what I’ve been digging lately. How about you?

Love,
Jodi

The post Appreciation 2.24 appeared first on I Will Dare.

Hello Darling Ones,

Without a doubt 2023 is and continues to be the most difficult year of my life. It puts eighth grade, freshman year of college, COVID lockdown, and all the death of 2022 to shame.

And at the same time it is the most gratifying, proudest, and loving year of my life.

When I think about the way people have stepped up to support me through my stroke recovery and the diabetes and retinopathy and the arthritic knees, all I can do is cry. There is no way thank people for loving me and showing up in ways I would have never predicted.

I’m amazed every damn day about the kindness and the generosity of the people I’ve chosen to share my life with. I’m so lucky. I am SO lucky. I am.

In March 2023 I had a stroke with repercussions I’m still working to overcome. But I get to do the work.

A woman I graduated high school with had a stroke in July 2023 and died from it in September. She had a stroke and died. I had a stroke and livd to be annoyed by it (and, ask my family, annoying about it).

I’m so thankful I get to be annoyed because Becky didn’t get the opportunity.

Some people, singer Dessa wrote in her memoir, are born a little blue. That’s me, always feeling a little lonely. I think of myself as an outsider. It’s part of my self-mythology.

However, what I think and what you have actually shown me is quite different. I was wrong.

Nearly everybody in my life from all aspects of my life ha stepped up to support me. Not just financially, but emotionally too. And the thinb is, it’s not just people I know.

Friends of my sisters, brother-in-law, and my niblings have donated money to help me stay afloat and repay my debt. I’m very literally (and literarily) depending on the kindness of strangers right now.

When things are so terrible, when everywhere you turn you see how awful people can be to each other, it’s humbling to be the beneficiary of so much kindness and generosity.

I know I can never pay it back. I wish I could.mI cannot thank you enough.

As a crocheter, I love to make blankets, scarfs, sweaters, you name it. Whenever I crochet something for someone I think about how much I love that person. I try to infuse the yarn with that love, because I want them to be warm, safe, and feel loved always. I hope they can feel that coming from me.

If I could I would make each and everycone of you blanket so you can feel that, That’s how you have made me feel and I thank you thank you thank you.

THANK YOU!

Love,
Jodi

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