How am I feeling? It's complicated and healing is a process. So take some of that away. This old @sitelab was the first tshirt I pulled out of my drawer. The words are accidentally so appropriate. I'm streamlined. I feel like a bunch of floating balloons that are red, shiny, free and also fragile, need to avoid pokey things, a little unpredictable, unruly. And It has yet to register that I get to stay this way.
Reflections, 2 weeks after top surgery. Self care is crucial and so is support. A support team in Covid times looks different but it's even more vital. Care isn't always glamorous. It's been a loved one sleeping near my bed in case I needed help. It's been washing all the things (even me) and dropping needs on my porch. Pulling up my pants in the first days and my spirits always. Late night phone calls and care packages, icecream and tea. It's been lifting and holding all the heavy things, quarantining for me, reading to me (and my kids), making meals and memories, enduring the endless selfies I am so giddy to take, it's love notes, high notes, low notes and dancing. It's a web of people woven together in the most unexpected ways; too beautiful to ever be planned, too precious to name. It's stretched near and far, open enough to flex, tight enough to hold. Tonight, on this dark dark night, let us bring back the light together. #holdfast #topsurgery
Tuesday: Took a field trip downstairs and there was fun mail! Reading @arielfionagore 's Home is Where the Freaks Are with this cuddle bug, hot cocoa on the cozy couch
Mary Oliver for this top surgery day: I want to think again of dangerous and noble things.// I want to be light and frolicsome. // I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing… ETA: I'm home, all is amazing.
Updated zine! I wanted to get this updated for National Coming Out Day.
I started this zine on a Spring evening in 2019. It was cold and sleeting as I parked myself in a pub across the street from an LGBTQ+ youth center. I had just dropped off a teen (who was staying with us) and they had asked me when I first came out. I didn’t have a good quick answer at the time, so I sat at the bar and lined up a rainbow of pens. It’s easy enough to explain how coming out isn’t a one-time-thing. I wanted to tell them that I don’t remember specifically “coming out” so much as a continual process of trying to be true to myself. It sounds cliche. What I really wanted to explain was how coming out can be an act of coming in to your self and into a vast constellation of queerness. 🌌