human

The system wasn't built for me

It’s become very difficult to exist in this system as a disabled woman. Every turn I take, I hit a wall. I feel like Frogger when he reaches a street full of traffic or a bunch of lawnmowers. I wait for one to pass, only for another to appear. Meanwhile, it seems like other people have the cheat codes so there is an empty street or clear lawn to pass through. My cousin Ian wrote me a note when we were 5. “Hey cuz, I have the frogger cheat codes, write me back”. Maybe that’s the problem, I never wrote him back and I didn’t get those cheat codes for how to be disabled.

A plant is born into its natural environment, with everything it needs to flourish surrounding it. The Golden Pothos lives in a humid, tropical climate, growing up the base of trees and living primary in a dark, shaded space, while a cactus lives in the open desert, with either sun and heat, or cool evenings. Even if they had a voice, they wouldn’t need to ask for more. Unless we took them away from their home and forced them to adapt.

But plants do live in our homes for years, some of them live with us our whole lives. Nature is resilient and adaptive. Its system is always changing. Humanity certainly isn’t flexible or dynamic. We don’t smoothly adapt, we grate our way slowly through changes, throwing a tantrum. It isn’t always the Fab 5 driving through the south, turning racists into gentle allies. That’s fabulous to watch, but that kind of change is not always realistic. Humans resist change. It scares us, because we worry about what could go wrong. Nature doesn’t mull it over, because nature doesn’t have a choice. If a queen bee decides to make changes in the hive, the hive makes some changes. When birds change their migration because of changes in the weather, they get in line. Or they die.

Systemically, there is hierarchy in nature, but that stems from survival. The strong overtake the weak, taking the nutrients they need to survive. The strong die off and the weak feed off their nutrients. And the cycle continues. Humanity’s system shouldn’t be hierarchical like nature. The strong don’t need to kill the weak to survive in humanity; actually quite the opposite. Humanity as a whole needs to come together to survive. We have no ideal model to copy, but pressing everyone into sameness, or placing some people above others makes no sense in terms of survival.

Unfortunately, that is our current model. We have an idea of hierarchy and yet paradoxically an idea of sameness that we seek in humanity. And speaking as a disabled woman, it is impossible to exist in a system that isn’t built for you. As someone with chronic illness, I have to handle medications, medication side effects, medical bills, managing doctors, health insurance, mental health costs, disability access in public spaces, figuring out public restrooms and benches, disability financial assistance pros and cons, treatments, surgeries, physical therapy, therapy, mobility aids, dietary restrictions, pain management. Imagine trying to tick off this whole list on top of your life, after an intense hike, while you have the flu, motion sickness, and food poisoning. This is a good indication of how someone with chronic illness feels on a daily basis and why it is harder to exist in a system set up for someone else

When I was a little kid, adults tested our intelligence by asking us to put the proper shapes into their matching empty spaces. I took them and with a mischievous smile, held each shape over the wrong space, and asked “does this go here?” They laughed, but they were nervous and encouraged me to finish the test.

I was already a shape that didn’t quite fit into any of the spaces and I was told that I should. There was a part of me that wanted to fit in, because I knew it would be easier. But there was a deeper part of me that already craved difference. I think the independence of each individual human is what creates the strength of humanity as a whole. I hope our system starts to reflect that, so that no one needs any “cheat codes” to get through it.

Harry Potter & Margot Robbie

I’ve heard that there are two types of people in the world, those who experience pain and do everything in their power to prevent it from happening to anyone else, and those who try to make others understand it.

Lately I’ve been thinking about Harry Potter. Yeah yeah, JK Rowling sucks, I hate that she’s even attached to him and that he came out of her brain (well maybe…there was a story a few years back about the possible real creator of the series, but at this point, it’s taken flight and JK has created what it is now…surprise gay Dumbledore and regret for Harry and Hermione not getting on…oops)

Harry Potter makes me so nostalgic for my middle school self. I loved middle school me. She was free. She wore stupid clothes and didn’t wear make-up or do her hair. She didn’t bother to stuff her bra. She was confused about why everyone had thrown away their favorite toys to fill their room with perfume and adult things. She was too busy reading Harry Potter and listening to Cuban, Hawaiian, and jazz music to give two shits about any of it.

Meanwhile, Harry’s parents died when he was baby, he was emotionally and physically abused and neglected, and some spooky, no-nosed fuck was stalking him and trying to murder him for most of his education. So, not great. Yet, people put him on this pedestal all the time. Most people were either angry or jealous, so they never got close to him. Adults, students, enemies…they just didn’t quite get it. And hearing how lucky he was when he needed to break down wasn’t helpful. He was just trying to survive, literally.

I am not Harry Potter, not even close. No one is trying to murder me…I think. Ok, I do have a list of people who might try. My close friends know who’s on it if anything goes down. But I can relate to having an ocean forged between myself and the people around me, making it impossible to connect. Just having a loving relationship with my parents has been enough to ensue an absolute fiery level of anger and jealousy in the people I meet. To have familial support marked me as someone special and blessed, unworthy of having pain. I had a friend yell at me until I cried and tell me that maybe I should cry. “Maybe you should feel pain, because the only pain you have ever felt in your life has been a heartbreak.”

It wasn’t the first time I had the love and happiness in my life seethed at me with hatred, as if it was wrong. At the time, I was 22 and I had lived a mostly nice life, outside of losing my first love. But, a break-up at a young age from the first person you share intimacy, love, or sex with is a loss worthy of grieving. Maybe now at 32, wandering through hell for a while has earned me the right to finally say I am a human and I can feel pain and experience grief. I know I didn’t have to “earn it.” No one should have to account for their pain, but #blessed feels a bit like a role I’ve fallen into that I can’t quite shake.

This became obvious to me when I played a card game with friends a couple years ago. We each had to choose someone else who we could trade spaces with for a day. Someone chose me and said that I was “so lucky.” At the time, I had just been diagnosed with 8 chronic conditions, a dog had attacked me, I almost died in a treatment, I was facing multiple surgeries, I could hardly get out of bed, I couldn’t eat solid foods, and I had just moved back in my parents for help. Yet, somehow the people in my life still saw me as lucky.

Once you’re up on that pedestal, you’re one of the “lucky ones.” No matter how messed up things get, people can’t really see it. Margot Robbie is a perfect example. She’s waaaay up there on that pedestal. I read that she gets migraines, and as someone who also gets migraines, I feel for her. She has to film movies in noisy, fast and bright conditions. But no one wants to hear Margot Robbie complain about a migraine. Most people have disconnected themselves too much from Margot to empathize with her. In their minds, no matter how how painful it gets, she is still better off in her multi-million dollar home, sick in silk pajamas.

I would argue that money does make it easier to get better care, but at the end of the day, we are all human. We all live. we hurt, we grieve, we smile, we cry, we poop, and we die. Even Margot.

So, all you Margots, Harrys, Rons, even the Voldys: You are allowed to grieve freely in front of the world, for everything you’ve been through, no matter how small.