Pride weekend smacked against how relationships show up tucked underneath my politics, values, and embodiment calls for transition. The girls will protest before checking in to see if their homie ate dinner. What are you willing to give up for a safer world? I watched so many of you ditch your disabled friends to attend Dyke March. I spent the weekend coordinating light-hearted, intimate care for disabled kin while the able-bodied girls texted me, “where the party at?” I am living in a generation of hyper-autonomous able-bodiedness calling for liberation all the while leaving people behind. The dream is stuck to my gums like peanut butter. Ocean too shallow for us yet we happen anyway — climate collapse. Call for a free Palestine yet wage war in intimate relationships. The body is a site — shape, sculpt, obstruct, contract, and subtract. The revolution is at play and has been — the girls are just too busy fraternizing with the enemy to care.
I am paying attention to the people that are going out of their way to help me. My needs being met reminds me not to take life for granted. The recent uptick in relational turmoil is return home information. My life is drastically about to change. I am going to lose more friends, and the state of it all will be quite uncomfortable. But the return on conceiving awe magnifies — invested in secret futures. Building from scratch is hard. I am buoyantly angry — a rivery mess. Charlie is recovering from chewing on a used tampon. I am lounged on the couch watching him snooze, counting relational pains, and manifesting courage to conceive a private awe. I am leaving relationships that ask me to abandon myself. I have been hurt so many times over the past few weeks that I have absolutely no capacity to be disappointed by people right now, and that is a very unfortunate place to be. I hate being here. I cannot be satisfied in this place, and it is a tender reminder to go home.
Home? A place so close and so far and once I reach location — a companionship no human can retain. I rely on this new moon in Cancer to remind me how to center my needs and what my vision board for this reset looks like. I am writing from a place of pain today, and that is okay — but tomorrow, we build.
Leaving is not abandonment. Being cute is not enough. The girls are over intellectualizing accountability, causing harm and calling it love. Accountability is not accountable if it is laced with harm. Harm happens as a result of being in relationship — yes — but at what threshold does participating in continued harm become anticipating transformation at the expense of wellness? Transformation can happen before the cost of wellbeing. Y’all are just use to love hurting and being hard and that fucking sucks.
Trauma is not an excuse to cause harm. A boundary is an invitation to love ourselves more deeply. How do we reckon with histories we bring into relationships? How do we honor our healing whilst acknowledging how we choose to heal has implications on others? I have been working hard to understand the energetics of internalization, but what is the threshold between resisting internalization and being complicit in harm?
All of this is in me, and grueling. I put it all down, say yes to care, and the present future of conceiving awe awaiting me through this hurt. To come is private, for me, and rooted in meeting me where I’m at. Saying goodbye to giving more than I can, and accepting intimacies that do not belong to me.