on balance, again.

i’m trying to remember that i need to take care of myself more than i need to keep talking about some of this stuff. And that sometimes when i think i’m making things easier i’m not. And that it’s actually ok and necessary for me to have limits, non negotiables, boundaries, and dare i say expectations. Not my strong suit sometimes. Some things i’ve been thinking about:

1) i’m really fucking tired of talking about access with people who don’t get it, don’t care to get it, aren’t invested in getting it. It’s so hard and saddens me to let things go as often as i do, because it feels like every time it’s one less space we can go, one less possibility of connection/ community/exchange of ideas and experiences/ etc.

2) i love having convos/ plotting sessions/ hangs with conscientious people who want to roll their sleeves up and do some work/ building/ community/ love together.

3) i have limited capacity for both.

i’m working on holding those truths, but its not always super easy. im learning to let 1 go more often and be ok feeling the different emotions that come with it; welcome 2 in with more commitment and clarity; and live with the ongoing reality of 3.

i can (and do!) explain why this or that is or isn’t accessible to me, put it in a nice chart, can measure it, maybe change it, make sense of it somehow. i can show you the facts and you might even believe me.

But the *culture* of ableism gets me feeling so fuckin’ rough, deep down. How the structures (literal & figurative) get built around it so easily, and how so many people don’t think about it, or just go along with it anyways. Where does it leave me/us? What does it do to my/your sense of possibility, change, movement, connection to others? What does it do to our insides? These are things i can’t explain so well. i could tell you the facts of it, but what does it mean? i’m not talking about “the human face” of ableism or some shit. i’m talking real, present, churning, sick feeling truth. And i so often don’t know how to speak it even to myself. i’m trying, but god damn this shit does not come easy.

Hm. i don’t have a tidy way to end this post of randoms, but there’s always this:

white cat paw of  Fukumaru, and hand of a Japanese elder Misao, touching, and rested on wood


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