Sacrifices

I said poetry was my lifeblood and it very much still is
I said I give birth to poems, the only children I’ll ever have
I hung onto my own words-
And hung myself
I sacrificed myself for my children.

(November 6, 2022)

Empty tombs

Bodies scattered around rooms

I thought I died when you left me.

I failed to take one breath,

Then another,

Then another

Isn’t it better to marry the earth?

Isn’t it better to surrender suffering?

I failed to take one step

Then another,

Then another

Isn’t it better to never know?

What would we have been

If your roots would’ve charged through me like veins, like a virus

Isn’t that what love is?

I turn to the toxic ones like a smoker with their fix

I cannot tell if my breath is becoming deeper or more shallow

Does it matter?

Does it matter, as long as the breath continues?

I’m not a champion

You were the athlete

I was the passerby,

Turned victim

You were the victim,

Turned perpetrator

The lines are so thin they bleed

The world is close to ending

Is as good a reason as any

To end mine

All paths lead to death

Is as good a point to make when you’re covered in shards of my heart

And I, still dancing with shadows

The visions blur and I wonder how many more breaths until the last breath

It doesn’t matter

I’m breathing,

In your mouth, my final organ beating

Do you hear the music?

Do you speak the language of living?

You must, with the delicate disaster you’ve made of me

The blood spatters like Rorschach plots

This one looks like murder,

And this one looks like love

Same eyes, disparate vision

Here lies my last decision.

(March 9, 2023)

The pebble

Most of the days are the same

Every once in a while one feels different

The sunset colors are more vibrant

Every once in a while the day hits me in the chest like a bullet

What am I supposed to do when that happens?

Every once in a while

My life doesn’t feel like a painting

It’s like I’m breaking through

Some people live in places where an eruption can happen at any time

I feel no different, when

Nothing resembles each other but everything blends together like I am that painting

A rushed watercolor with colors scattered like pebbles in ponds

Every once in a while

I feel my heartbeat and it grounds me

After shocking me

After urging me to live like I’m alive rather than dying

I read the bell jar recently and Esther lost control skiing and flew like lightning through air

She broke her limbs just to feel something

I would rather break the silence with a dance, or a fateful song

I’ve lived long enough to know self harm keeps on hurting

Sometimes enduring the senseless monotony is better in the long term than violence

Because I don’t like to clean up my own messes

I don’t like to overdramatize the very real aspects of my existence that wait at every corner I turn

But they’re still there

I think every moment will turn into horror and I’ve lived on knife edges for years

But somehow I need to articulate the awareness in this body

Somehow I need to sense the life around me just so I can feel real

So I can feel a part of something

Moving is all I do but there’s no meaning

Because I’m not moving towards something I’m moving away from the vulnerability I need to have

When I’ve felt alone for 100 days I think turning inward will cause insanity

And there’s only one way to find out

I’m trying not to color the emptiness with despair because I know everything is born neutral

And I feel it’s my obligation to live in a way that doesn’t bring others to their knees

What happens when I’m gone?

What proof do I even have of being real?

In this place it’s all my work to do and I’m tired

I feel the colors becoming more saturated

But the light is fading

I need confirmation that what I’m seeing is real

I need the universe to reach out and grab my hand and tell me “you matter”

I need the wind to hit the side of my cheek at the right angle to inspire some sensation

I need my dormant spirit to turn and tingle

I need to waltz at sunset to the sound of nothing

And I need to be okay with there not being anything appealing before me

I need to accept, maybe even appreciate, the days that just hold my existence in their hands

Nothing more and nothing less

I need to learn that time is a construct and every second is both meager and meaningful

I need to find the cravings and the sensations within

So I can just enjoy what’s outside and not put pressure on it for my enlightenment

My goal is to hold my humanity high and maybe even something more, something magical, something undefined in this dim light in which my soul stirs

Maybe honoring how much of this poem is unspeakable

How much of my life has not been translated into poems

How much of my moments will never be shared or understood by others

How much my life resembles the pebble, trailing blue energy, flying not fighting, letting the guiding hand do the work.

(July 11, 2020)

Splitting

I am splitting in half every second for the things that have never happened

I am splitting in half

For every moment I anticipated

I held my breath

I choked myself

I robbed myself

Of a real moment

For an imaginary one

I am splitting in half

Is it time I’ve wasted

Is it my own fault

I was never really in it

I was visioning

I am splitting in half

I am everything I never thought I would be

And nothing I expected

I am splitting in half

There is nothing left of me

That there was when this began

I am a puddle of brokenness

My spirit seeps

I am splitting in half

They won’t remember me here after a little bit of time

my name is scrubbed already

It was not a lot of time and I was never here to some

Would it be easier if I was never here

Would it be easier to have never met you at all

To have never sampled what my life could be if I was given wings to fly

Instead of pushed out on a platform prepared to die

I’m not a martyr

I am splitting in half

There is nothing left I thought there was here

Yesterday is a bitter dream and tomorrow is an illusion

I honor the pain the numbness the pain the numbness the pain until there’s nothing left but numbness

Then pain again maybe years later

Maybe when I take the wrong way home that makes me pass by the building where I was split in half

Do you have that?

Do you have routes you avoid?

Do you avoid half your town?

Once I forced myself through the neighborhood I grew up in and I swore I thought I saw some pieces from when I was splitting in half

I’ve split in half too many times to count

What kind of portions of me are left

Who even knows unless we go back and track down all the pieces

I can tell you it’s not worth it

I’m here, and there’s enough of me left to offer something

I’m not sure what yet but there’s something and just the mere possibility of a tomorrow is enough

I have split so many times I wouldn’t think there would be any left but you’d be surprised how deep our rivers flow

Maybe it’s splitting

But it’s also merging

Maybe taking that route home and facing those old truths is putting some of the pieces back together

They’re not the same

They fit differently

Nothing will ever be the same but at least there’s a body here and a breath when there should be, and a heart where there should be

I am splitting but that does not mean I am splitting in the parts that will end me

I am splitting and there is a tomorrow and I’m not thinking about what it is exactly

I’m just breathing and hoping to survive another day where I’m at the mercy of the world’s gamble.

The nefarious prevail

It’s enough to be sad

You don’t have to cry

It’s enough to be in pain

You don’t have to keel over, bend over, fall to the floor writhing and screaming

They should know what they’re doing to you is eating your insides

They shouldn’t need to see your flesh decay

But maybe that’s what they want

Society is a story of power ending up in the wrong hands

The hands around my neck are celebrated

The dagger in my back is adored

It’s enough to exist outside the margins

You don’t need to be exiled, disposed of, deleted from the records

Living is suffering

They should already hear our screams.

My year in bites

January

I officially launched my anti-diet wellness program and moved into an apartment with my partner. 

February

I had a photo shoot with my partner and with my sister.

March

I enjoyed the unseasonably warm weather in Michigan by hiking and looked into adopting a bunny.

April

I started dog/animal sitting, adopted my first bunny, Blanco, and chopped off my hair.

May

I enjoyed more hiking, went to Ann Arbor, and took my dog to the beach so he could go swimming for the first time.

June

I did more pet sitting, went kayaking in Lansing with my partner, and went to a family party with my partner.

July

I visited Chicago with my best friend and went thrift shopping, went kayaking, went to a drag show, got amazing food, got tattoos for each other, and did a photo shoot with her; I also did a solo photo shoot.

August

I went up north with my family and partner.

September

My first program client finished the program and loved it,  celebrated Pride in Detroit and saw Cupcakke, and celebrated my birthday by seeing Hasan Minhaj.

October

I visited a new farm sanctuary and bonded with the animals, saw Princess Nokia in concert, and visited Grand Rapids; a second client joined my program.

November

I adopted my second bunny son after their first meeting went great.

December

My partner and I went to Barcelona for 10 days and LOVED it- the nature, the food, the culture, everything was awesome and we did a photo shoot that turned out incredible.

I also survived a global pandemic and mental health issues! A lot of bad happened as well, but I am choosing to focus on the good. I have learned a lot this year, and I am excited to move forward in life.

What I’m watching, reading, and listening to

Watching

I am A Killer on Netflix

Learn about how harm is committed and why prisons and policing do not prevent nor redress harm.

Insecure on HBO Max

Ready to see some black joy in the final season! I love Issa Rae.

Reading

Powerful messages that are benefiting my mental health and my understanding of others. I am increasing my empathy and forgiveness. This book is also serving as a great resource for the Buddhist group I lead which discusses relationship issues.

I am reading this for the Arabic language group I am a part of, though I am glad to finally read this classic. It is very quotable, and the wisdom is concise and coherent. It is a short and accessible read with a lot of value.

Listening to

My new favorite podcast! It debunks bullshit pseudo science. We need more real scientific info out there so people don’t have to deal with so much fear mongering around health. Life is hard enough without that BS.

I love the psychology behind cults and cult leaders. This led me down the rabbit hole of NPD (narcissistic personality disorder). I have had a lot of realizations about my life experiences through my research.

My new favorite song. I admire Demi’s honesty and vulnerability. They are a force of power and strength that inspires me to continue sharing my struggles in order to benefit others.

Personal reflections on ableism

One of the tenets of disability justice is interdependence. The other principles are intersectionality, leadership of those most impacted, anti-capitalist politic, commitment to cross-movement organizing, recognizing wholeness, sustainability, commitment to cross-disability solidarity, collective access, and collective liberation (courtesy of sinsinvalid.org). Interdependence means we depend on each other. We fill in the holes where each other is unable to perform. This shouldn’t only apply to people with disabilities; this should be a basic guideline for society. Capitalism has corrupted our culture and forced us to be individualistic; it has taught us to be independent to a fault. We learn we shouldn’t depend on others, even though we all need to depend on others at times. People with disabilities are not the only people with “special” needs- everyone’s needs are special. Everyone deserves to have their needs met, by society, by their community, by the people around them who care about them. The society that we currently live in (in the U.S. and many other countries) is not able to meet people’s needs, because it has been designed to satisfy the desires of the greedy and power-hungry ruling class that owns the means of production. So it is no surprise that we have all learned to mimic this in our own circles. Dare I say, capitalism has led us to become cold, detached, emotionless, and neglectful to those in our life that need us most? It’s not far-fetched. Capitalism is one of the leading causes of mental illness. In the U.S. a majority of people struggle to survive and live paycheck to paycheck, constantly under the stress of one wrong move leaving them homeless or hungry. That stress, anxiety, and paranoia of poverty leads to mental health issues that often require treatment. I have seen poverty and trauma intertwine in my family to produce mental illness, which has made its way through my lineage to me. I live with diagnosed anxiety, depression , ADHD, and BPD (Borderline personality disorder). Although I receive treatment in the form of medication and talk therapy, they still impact me on a daily basis. Though my disabilities are invisible to others, I am disabled. 

There are two models of disability. The medical model portrays the disabled person as disabled, wrong, broken, incorrect, something to be fixed. The disabled person has a problem that needs to be fixed so they can conform to society. This reinforces capitalism and erases individual differences, which actually make society interesting and exciting. The social model of disability maintains that a disabled person is only considered disabled because they are DIS-ABLED, society DIS-ABLES them. There is nothing inherently wrong with them; their society is unable to meet their needs, which causes them undue hardship. As I mentioned, society is not engineered to meet the needs of anyone, especially not people with “extra” needs (not all disabled people have extra needs, they might just have different needs than are considered socially acceptable). Obviously I subscribe to the social model. Disabled people are different from others in ways that some may see as pronounced, but it is only really considered an issue because society is not able to support them. Some of the struggles I deal with on a daily basis are anxiety, worry, overthinking, executive dysfunction, sensory overload, emotional dysregulation, fear of abandonment, dependency on others for decision-making/reassurance, hopelessness, intrusive thoughts, loneliness, social isolation, problems socializing, low motivation, and no appetite or repulsion to food. If I didn’t live in a capitalistic society and instead lived in one built on interdependence and disability justice, I believe (1) I would not have developed these conditions, (2) society would not trigger me to be mentally ill because my basic needs would be met and I could focus on what makes me happy, and (3) the people around me would understand how to be there for me and DO it, so my symptoms would not be as severe. If such conditions were met, I might not even be considered “disabled” anymore. I am disabled now because of how difficult it is for me to live up to society’s expectations, but what if those expectations changed? I would still be me, I would still have certain needs, but society would be set up to fulfill everyone’s needs, and thus we could be there for each other, and we could thrive ourselves. At the center of every anti-oppression effort must be the struggle against capitalism. Capitalism is the ultimate manifestation of oppression- it organizes, sophisticates, and perpetuates oppression on the “industrial complex” level. It is a machine, an evil one, that we all must be set on destroying. The first thing you can do to be less ableist (harmful to disabled people) is to fight against capitalism. Support community efforts to help others, build support networks, and distribute resources. Educate yourself on concepts like Marxism, and help envision the future with others, together. I am communist because I believe a world can happen where we are not driven by greed. I envision a world where we can meet everyone’s needs. I know humanity is capable of providing for ourselves; we have exhibited this before. If you don’t believe in the fundamental opportunity of being a human then your imagination probably won’t go far. But then, maybe you’re just ignorant. Capitalism is relatively young. Across the world, many other social systems have existed and thrived. Do your research. Help us create a world that makes people able to thrive, not dis-ables them.

I didn’t really think of myself as disabled until I heard other mentally ill people refer to themselves as disabled and did some research. It was actually incredibly liberating to receive my diagnoses and to FINALLY acknowledge how difficult life was for me. My whole life, I have kept it together. I have barely shown anyone besides my partner the hell I deal with just to be alive. Society doesn’t make space for weakness, or vulnerability. I am vulnerable; I share with others lots of ugly things about my life, but I still show up as someone who appears okay. I am perceived as strong, successful, and self-sufficient, so nobody would consider me disabled. Even when I was in the hospital for my mental health, the social worker, upon finding out I was college educated and employed, said “you don’t belong here!!!” I wish I could say it surprises me that someone who interacts with disabled people daily still holds stereotypes about disabled people, but it doesn’t. Mental illness and disability do not discriminate. Anyone can be affected. And anyone, no matter how okay they seem on the outside, can deal with these things daily. I received my diagnoses two years ago, and I still am not receiving the support I need. I have been clear and up front with my friends what I need and what I go through. I have gone through many moments of being suicidal, and I have told them I deal with this frequently, but I still never receive texts asking how I am. This hits me particularly hard especially due to my BPD. I am already convinced no one cares about me. If someone you care about has a disability, it is YOUR obligation to do research and figure out how to be there for them how they need. I have been told my needs from loved ones are unreasonable and my standards are too high, but the more I reflect on this, I think it is ableist. Would people say this to someone in a wheelchair? My disabilities are invisible, so I receive a lot more stigmatization and judgement. People think I am over-reacting, even when I am suicidal. They obviously don’t know that 70% of people with BPD attempt suicide, and 10% are successful in that. BPD is a highly stigmatized disorder, maybe even more so than bipolar, which is similar, but different. When people think of bipolar, they are usually actually thinking about the symptoms of BPD. Yet nobody thinks BPD is that serious, or that detrimental to a person’s well-being. I feel like I am screaming in pain, yet pleading for people to hear me. 
I have decided I will no longer expend energy on keeping people in my life who do nothing to prove they want to be there. If you are unwilling to meet my needs, I have no reason to have you in my life. It is difficult enough for me to just live, let alone deal with constant crushing disappointment at the failures of others to even try to understand or empathize with what I go through. I am working on lessening my symptoms. I am working on being more independent and self-sufficient. I am working on creating my own happiness. But none of that means that I have no right to expect others to fulfill some of my needs. Society is *supposed to* function to meet people’s needs; communities are supposed to function to meet people’s needs. It is only because of capitalism that we have become accustomed to neglecting people’s needs, even our own. Just because it is commonplace does not mean it is acceptable, and it is not something I will accept from those around me. We shouldn’t sink into the despicable society we live in; we should take on the responsibility of helping create a much more healthy and fulfilled society. Don’t we all want to be fulfilled? Instead of neglecting others and hyper-focusing on ourselves, we should be organizing to dismantle capitalism and create a society that works for everyone. People have adapted to capitalism in the worst ways. I don’t think we should be adapting to survive and simultaneously accepting this toxic hyper-individualistic world. We should be doing what we can to meet everyone’s needs. I can no longer keep people around who do not think this way, and I know that means many people will fall out of my life, and that’s okay. I am looking for the people I can stick with in a revolution. Right now I am focusing on finding my own peace and happiness before I try bringing anyone new into my life, due to my dependent tendencies. I can’t speak for everyone with disabilities, but I want people to see my disabilities, to acknowledge them, to ask about them. I want to be seen as the whole of me, which includes disability, which is perfectly okay. There is nothing “wrong” with me, just the way the world excludes me from so-called normalcy. If you can’t see my disability, you can’t see the real me. And with such a great proportion of the population being disabled, you aren’t really seeing anyone. You’re seeing us, but you’re missing a core part of who we are and what our struggles are. If you don’t know my struggles, how do you know what to fight for in our future? I truly believe we can do better than this. We all have internal and external work to do to show up in the world the way we should. I don’t ask for your work to be done, I just ask to know that you are doing it, that you care about your role in perpetuating oppression, that you denounce oppression, that you support revolution, and support me. Every small way that you support a marginalized person becomes a big way to transform the world. Don’t underestimate the impact of your actions, but make it known that you are trying and always willing to do better. Always do better; never stop improving. We need people who are willing to be held accountable for how they show up and how they don’t show up. We need people who think the betterment of society is worth more than protecting their egos. We need people to understand and uphold disability justice, not just conceptually, but physically, literally. I need people in my life who are committed to these things. I need to know that people see me for who I really am: a multitude of things, a conglomeration of special abilities and special needs, a provider for others and a needer of others, a success and a failure, often in the same day, a person who exists in this world and didn’t ask to be born, but deserves to experience life like an easy breath, not a labored one.

Flow

Sometimes I cry because I feel like I’m not doing enough

Sometimes I cry because I feel I’m doing too much

And I will never know what balance is

Which is ironic for a Libra

Nothing means anything unless you internalize it meaningfully

True learning is not just knowing better but doing better

And every day I strive to be the person people think I am

Maybe they don’t see all the broken shards of glass because I’m an expert at repairing fragile things

And maybe they don’t know the danger in getting close to sharpness because I’ve never been honest about the shattered edges

I hate the idea of being any one thing

It’s hard for me to put my finger on it or name it, or claim it, or choose something as my own

Maybe because deep down I’ll never be convinced anything is my own

I don’t want to be attached to attachment, or nonattachment

They say flow is the key to happiness

And that’s all I’m reaching for,

When I laugh,

When I dance,

When I break character, or who they think I am

All I want is authenticity without the guilt

I want listening ears without advice or judgment

I don’t want to save the best parts of me for poems.

But that’s what it’s starting to feel like

And maybe it’s my fault for not being truer sooner, or bluer

Maybe I should’ve let them know a long time ago my river runs deep

Maybe I feel like everything else is shallow

I just want something that feels as warm and comforting as my deepness

As my aloneness.

I struggle with continuity when every other body disrupts my motion

Swaying to one song, everything else sounds like hell

Maybe I need to learn to turn the sour into the sweet

Or accept it, not change it,

Like I want the world to do with me

I’m proud of my evolution, and I would never want someone to discount what I’ve been through and where I am by wanting something more

Maybe that’s what this has been about the whole time

Stopping the wanting

Stopping the craving

Living in my body, in my home, even in isolation, if isolation is what breeds joy

If it breeds focus and deep realization

No river can run through this concrete and these bricks and steel

I contemplate alone at home like I’ve always been

Do they need to know the somber beauty of this moment?

Sometimes things are better left undivided

If I even try to explain the essence to you it will be diluted

I just need to treasure what I have

In the sacred moments in between all the nothingness.

The air where nothing is missing.

This is where life blooms.

pet the lion

As an adult I had to learn how to stop being afraid of the dark

My tarot keeps telling me to face my shadow self

Pet the lion

I have recurring dreams I am being devoured by wild cats

I look for symbols but fail to follow them

I am looking for the light that is not there

Begging for sleep, another day

Pushing aside the platter of all I choose to not face

Why is it I am having the same nightmares as a child?

Why do I have the same fears?

What struck me so young-

Kept me so young

Learning to cope however I could fathom

Survival isn’t a lifestyle

I am always turning a corner on who I think I am

Who knew adults could be afraid of the dark?

Who knew kids could endure so much and seem so adult?

Who knew adults could endure so much and seem so child?

Maybe all these birthdays I have celebrated have been a parody

The day will never truly dawn on me until I accept dusk

Remember the universe does nothing personal, nature makes no attacks

It is all just a mental drama

And I am detaching myself more everyday from the repeated stories that have kept me from awakening

I am speaking the fears I thought too cursed to pronounce

By way of making them seem both real and valid, and constructed and vapid.