Life Lessons, Inspired By Converge…

i am one of those people who tend to utilize YouTube as a podcast medium, as opposed to a visual one.

In the midst of doing chores i was listening to a recently-uploaded interview/performance from Massachusetts-based band, Converge; and as with most things i listen to, i began reflecting upon my life.

While i tend to welcome getting older, it’s always strange to see my peers, or people in my age group (who have also been in the punk/hardcore scene) experiencing it as well. There is an obvious wisdom that occurs, after many years of mistakes and life lessons; but to hear (guitarist) Kurt Ballou and (vocalist) Jacob Bannon touch on their lives as ‘family men’, that gave me a bit of pause.
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Even though thoughts about ‘boyfriends’ and ‘girlfriends’ get passed around; as children those conversations tend to be vapid- at least in my mind, this was the case. Indeed, i was teased as a kid for not really pining for boys- or anyone, frankly. At 11 years old, it was assumed by classmates that i was the much-conflated combination of ‘gay’ and ‘asexual’, dispelling the notion always told to queer kids that we are all “too young to know what sexuality is.” i was eventually set up with a boy named Phillip (who looked like Wanye from Boyz II Men), and while i thought he was generally a nice guy, i wasn’t attracted to him in the ways people wanted me to be. There were also particular things he did that would have been nice and silly if we were hanging out as friends, but unappealing as ‘boyfriend material’, such as eat the whole portion of a birthday cake with my name on it.

i was happy for my classmates and friends who were ‘dating’, but it wasn’t ever something i saw for myself, based on what i saw around me.

A few years later, in high school, i developed my first crush. As a matter of fact i developed many crushes- throughout high school, throughout college and all throughout the rest of my 20s- every single one, resulting in rejection. In combination with the internalization of thinking i was stupid and worthless (since i heard that so much growing up); i also internalized that i was unlovable, since not one person i was interested in reciprocated the feelings.

i used to always be told my friends that i’d “make a good wife and/or mother,” but i never really understood what that meant, especially when the people who always told me this had no interest in me, as they were married and/or had kids themselves. i’d also have a few people tell me years after the fact how they had some interest in me; but again, they themselves tended to be in a partnership at the time of their reveal.

i always saw people seeing me as between the binary/dichotomy of a sibling/homie, or sex object. The homies never found me appealing enough to think about a partnership; and the people who saw me as someone they wanted sex with, they either didn’t see me as a friend at all, or used friendship as a means to get to sex.

While i wasn’t hateful or misanthropic regarding the subject of romance, there were times i performed what would perhaps be considered in this day and age ‘incel’ behavior, where i would continually push this futile hope onto the person i had feelings for, despite clearly knowing they were not into me. i am honestly surprised, and incredibly grateful, that those people did not push me away. They were incredibly patient with me, and contributed to a massive life lesson. i have no idea where any of them are at now, but in many ways, i am indebted to them.
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i’ve spent my life never knowing what a romantic partnership felt like.

i’ve always dreamt of having a long-term romantic partner: someone i could have massively deep and massively long, drawn-out philosophical conversations about life, politics, art- pretty much everything you do with platonic friends, except you’d spend much more time with them every day. We’d both come from our jobs and commiserate, eat together, ride bikes together… If we were not with friends or our jobs, it would be us together.

Obviously, this is the most ideal situation anyone who romanticizes partnerships can have. Some would even say it’s unrealistic. That said, i never even got a modicum of this. i’ve been in ‘partnerships’ (if you could call them that); but the primary objective was sexual- something that was not necessarily even a factor in how i ‘idealized’ partnerships.

In the midst of all the rejections there were people who were into me, however, for them it was sexual. As a matter of fact, the first person i ever went out with (when i was 19) was going okay, until it was clear things were about to turn sexual. i left their apartment, and we didn’t really talk much after that. i experienced an incident or two after that, and it led me to start feeling as if, the only way i will know what it feels like to be in a ‘relationship’, was to prioritize the sex thing. No one prioritized romance or emotional bonds at all.

i spent many years not talking about my feelings, because i didn’t know how to express them, or who to express them to.
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In my late 20s, despite seeing plenty of red flags, i asked a man significantly older than me to be in a partnership. With an extremely low self-esteem, i still figured i would receive some semblance of a ‘romantic’ relationship, particularly since he was older. unsurprisingly, i discovered immediately that his priority was also a sexual relationship. He also immediately became possessive and emotionally abusive. There are things he did that violated my trust (such as coerce me to not use a condom); and the moment he threatened physical violence, i woke up and immediately made the decision to leave him.
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It was 14 years before i was with someone else.

That 14 years was both by choice and not by choice. Again, no one has ever shown romantic interest in me. Anyone who has shown interest in me in that time let it be known that it was purely for sexual purposes, so i declined.

i also had to figure out who i was. i had to learn to love myself. i had to learn to like myself.

It was not until the age of 39 (interestingly, the age where the process of perimenopause began) where i first looked in the mirror (after years of not doing so) and saying, “I like myself.”

It wasn’t until the age of 42 where i said, “I love myself.” It was also the age i ended up meeting someone younger, and being involved with them. Despite me being adamant about wanting a long-term romantic partnership (and he being adamant about wanting the opposite), i still became involved with him for reasons not unlike any other time. The ‘futile hope’ still peered though.

As always in my experience, sex was primary for him. He also had patterns of wanting to break me down, then giving compliments. He also had tendencies to ghost.

He ‘broke up’ with me the day before i got hit by a truck.

He visited me in the hospital a couple of times; however, the moment i will never forget is, in the middle of telling me i’m the bravest person he knows, he asked if i was going to get fat, given my more recent disabled body. Months later (while my body was still in healing mode) i received a text from him, saying he couldn’t speak with me anymore. i felt incredibly hurt by this; after a couple of weeks though, i received that rejection as another one of life’s lessons.
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i’ve been rejected so many times in my life, i lost count. My ‘solution’ was to suffer in silence, and withhold whatever feelings i had for anyone (if at all) internally. The other thing i’d learn to do was to stay focused on whatever organizing i was doing; whatever music, art, getting tattoos, martial arts, exercise or any other project i was doing. i stayed occupied because the other choice would be to cry and lament that ‘no one likes me.’

There is such a primary focus on men when it comes to ‘grind’ and ‘work’ culture- with all of your Lex Friedman, Toby Morse and Rich Roll podcasts praising it all as a virtue of sorts; if you focus and work hard, much success will come to you. A question i have is, how much did the need to consume oneself so much in the ‘work’ have to do with a reaction to constantly facing rejection? Also, how many people who aren’t cis men experience this very thing?
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As i was listening to Ballou and Bannon, i started to wonder, do most people actually know what this feels like? A lot of people spend their lives ‘hooking up’. Are most people who do this actually aromantic, but are conditioned in believing that before being coerced into more ‘romantic’ institutions such as marriage or long-term partnerships, one must sew their oats?

How many people get married and raise children with someone they are romantically attracted to, and emotionally bonded with- or are people married because they wanted to know what it felt like?

And even if if that is the case, why do we think marriage is the only option?

i always told myself i wanted kids, because i would treat my kids in the exact opposite way i was treated. But is that a sustainable reason to want kids?
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i’ve spent my life never knowing what a romantic partnership felt like, and to be honest, i most likely will never know what it feels like- not in the way i’ve always imagined it to be. i will most likely never experience being the parent i’ve wanted to be, specially as i am learning to live with my disabled body, which still feels relatively new, even after almost five years.

i understand that with this ‘new’ body, i am even less desirable in the eyes of society, and i have less of a desire to lament said undesirability. Frankly, i am grateful to have survived.

While i wish what happened to me on no one; it has contributed to me readjusting what desirability means, and what being in a partnership means. In these (almost) five years, there’s literally only been one person who has so much as flirted with me, and this was a person who worked at the airport in Fiji. And i know i was tired, but even though he asked me if i was married; i think i recall him even saying he was married.
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In this more recent part of my life’s journey, i am still learning about myself, and questioning everything i’ve been conditioned with… whether it’s about friendships, relationships in general, or my own body. Occasionally i still do battle the tiny “Why does no one like me?” peering from the side of my brain; however, i do have a wonderful life partner, and this experience is leading me to readjust whatever idealizations i’ve long held about partnerships, based on whatever trauma-based defense mechanisms i’ve grasped. i’ve had to do a lot of compromising, which is one of the key components in sustainability of any relationship, be it familial, platonic or romantic.

While there will indeed be people who love you (even if you don’t love yourself); you will not begin to understand the why, until you allow yourself to be loved.

Or even liked.
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There is nothing inherently wrong with having fears or doubts, for some of them are well-founded. However, when you can take some time for yourself, converge all of these fears and doubts, and let them know they have a space to exist- but they can not hoard so much space where nothing or no one else can function, then the work begins.

And we must remember, this is everyday work.

Thanks Kurt Ballou and Jacob Bannon, for inspiring this little moment of clarity.

i called 988 (again).

i tried laying back in bed to make attempts at ceasing the intrusive thoughts but they wouldn’t stop, so i decided to write. i’m writing whatever comes out, so it may seem incoherent.

The last time i called this hotline, it was a different number, but it was changed to make it more memorable for anyone who needs to dial it. There are plenty of times i have the intrusive thoughts, but i never bother to call- i just acknowledge i have them, and wait for them to pass. Many times when i’m having an episode i know what to look for. There are times though, where the thoughts are so intrusive, ‘the end’ is the only thing that makes sense.

It was 3:03 in the morning when i decided to dial. Most people are in bed at this hour, so reaching out to a friend or loved one (as is usually suggested) would not have been a good idea. Most people who don’t deal with intrusive thoughts move about their lives, and perhaps don’t know how pervasive these thoughts could be. When having conversations with folks, there are conversations, but not necessarily a checking in, which is what someone like me needs: a constant checking in. Having someone there to just listen, even if the both of us are silent, is very important. The key is that someone is present- not just physically. i have friends, but i am still incessantly lonely.

i have friends, but calling the hotline still seems to be a choice i feel i have to make.

Being an amputee, it’s not easy for me to simply just go out and hang out with friends. i spend most of my time in the house alone. Most days, people do not check in with me. People don’t come over to check in with me. People don’t regularly call. i feel like it’s me doing most of the reaching out, asking how people are. Sometimes i don’t get an answer back. i do this with the understanding that people have their own lives, and i shouldn’t expect everyone to cater to me. That expectation would not make sense. At the same time it’s incredibly frustrating, where i get a tinge of anxiety that no one has checked in or said hello, so i end up texting a bunch of people, asking how they are.

i also cannot expect one person to do all of that labor, and i would feel horrible asking for that. i’ve tried hard to accept that at this point, everyone in my life’s communication style is different than mine- i love multiple hour-long conversations or hangout sessions about intensely dissecting art, films and music- sometimes lasting from late evening to sun up; passionately discussing political theory and events, just wandering for hours and taking strolls outside… i have to acknowledge that the older i get, those days are gone. Everyone around me has their own lives with marriage or committed partnerships, children, or some other being or thing that leads them to not being able to do these things. As a person who had a 40+ hour job, organizing, practicing jiu jitsu… i was still able to do these things, because it was important for me to do.

But being and amputee now and not having as close of in-person (or any type of) deep human connections, i still desire these things. i am not able to just go out and get whatever needs i have, then i can go back and be the typical introvert. i am an introvert, but i still desire deep human connection. But no one else in my life desires these things in the same ways i do. And it hurts.

It makes me feel as if everyone’s life is better off without me, so i won’t be in their way. So i called the number.

One of the things you are advised to do is to reach out to others in your life. But if you spend so much of the time mostly reaching out in the first place (when you are not having these thoughts), doing so when you are having the thoughts doesn’t mean that people are going to regularly start reaching out. People may do it based on the immediacy, but then their communication dies down, and the cycle repeats. So then you think, ‘It doesn’t make sense for me to reach out to people.’

The folks at the hotline are dedicated specifically to listening to you. In a lot of ways i feel horrible for calling them, in the same way i feel about even calling a friend when i am having an episode: People say i should call them, but it’s putting a lot of emotional labor on them to take in my trauma, when they actually may be having some of their own. That said, the hotline is there, where folks are specifically here to listen, so despite my reservations i called the number.

After i spoke with someone i cried until i fell asleep. i got up, did all my regular things, and still had the thoughts. They committed to doing a follow-up call, which they actually did today. The person on the line with me talked about some things i could do (including discussing what a safety plan could look like), and they even texted me some links and resources. i am not a fan of receiving links via text (i’d rather have them emailed to me, or better yet, i’d love if someone actually talked to me), but it was helpful to have them follow up.

So here we are. i tried going back to bed to stop the thoughts, but i decided to write. i guess the next thing for me to do is to actually vocalize what it is i need. i am very aware that while i don’t think this is asking for too much, others may think of it as a lot. i am also not expecting one person to fulfill all of these things for me- again, that would make little sense. Whether or not people are available or willing to do these things, that is another conversation. i just wanted to be clear, in case anyone was curious.

All of the things i named earlier (the hours-long conversations, etc.), i would love to happen. The reality is, i don’t think it will. So, at the very least, someone checking in with me every day is something i need, so i don’t feel so alone. Even if it’s a ‘How are you doing?’. A phone call would be even better, if one has time to do that. i prefer those to texts.

i don’t want to have to call 988, but sometimes, it may be the only choice i have. Besides the other one.

Happy… Birth Day?

i don’t normally celebrate birthdays, as to me, every day is a birth day. When you wake up to a new day, it’s a whole set of new experiences, and ruminations on older ones. We are never the same person we were the day before.

That said, today is a day where my life undoubtedly was altered, physically and mentally. Two years ago the body i now live in was born on March 1, but the contractions began on February 12.

i was hit and ragdolled by an 18 wheeler semi truck.

While i immediately accepted that nothing would ever be the same about the way i moved in the world; it may sound strange to say but there was something comforting about those two months and six days in the hospital, plus whatever time i spent in the rehab clinic. While i always welcomed spontaneity in my life, prior to the accident i had particular patterns i followed. A certain predictability was comforting. My life was extremely simple- as simple as one’s life could be. i was wholly independent. i had little attachment to things; i rode my bicycle everywhere, i got what i needed from the store, whenever i needed something.

After the accident i had to depend on others to do things i suppose i took for granted- riding my bicycle to the store, picking up larger, bulkier/heavier packages, reaching items at a particular height… Even multi-tasking has been harder to do. i know it was difficult for me to form a coherent sentence (both in writing and verbally) when i first got to the hospital; given that i was able to easily respond to questions with no memory lapses though, i thought i was generally okay. The concussion i got (resulting in 6 or 7 staples in my head) seems to have latent effects, because these days, my brain gets overloaded in ways i’d never experienced before. i’m distracted at a much easier rate, and sitting and doing particular tasks for long periods of time has not been as easy.

Yes- while i have come to terms with everything that happened (and am still learning to appreciate my body in its new form- not an easy thing to do), one of the things i struggle with the most is the unpredictability of this new life. This new life is a lot lonelier. The connections i once experienced have lessened greatly. i’m not able to travel outside in the ways i once was. i am dependent on others in one way or another, if i want to leave the house and do anything significant… which means that sometimes, things are not going to get done at the time (or in the amount of time) i’d like them done. Sometimes, just getting around is painful. Some days i have happy days, where i can laugh at myself. Other days i ask myself why i even survived. Some days i feel okay with doing nice things for myself after such a traumatic event; other days i feel guilty.

When everything happened i assured myself that i wasn’t experiencing PTSD, despite this ginormous life-altering event that happened to me. i disagreed with everyone who guaranteed that this struggle would be something i’d be battling.

i suppose i had a certain image in my mind as to how living with PTSD from such a major accident would occur; like everything else major in life though, none of this comes with a handbook.

i want to apologize to everyone, and say that i was wrong.

This book will continue to be written…

Things I’ve Learned Most Since Being An Amputee…

It has been a little over a year since i both got hit by a truck and became an amputee; and while there are things i already knew regarding the ableism of the world many of us live in… there is one thing to know that in theory, and another thing to see it in action.

First, to get some context about my journey, here’s this video (note: i initially posted this on Dailymotion but for some reason this video is set to private, and i can’t seem to find a way to set it back to public).

i have learned a lot more about myself since even producing this video- so consider this post to be the ‘things i didn’t know’:

You will have to repeat yourself a lot. For example, even though i am an amputee i still have to ask neighbors to get packages for me. i figured since they are aware i have to scoot up and down the stairs to get mail they would automatically put things by the door, after i requested it.

People assume that once you get a prosthetic things will automatically be easier. People assume you can stand all day in a prosthetic, even though you are not yet great at doing so. People don’t understand that sometimes, your joints hurt standing for long periods of time in a prosthetic.

People are afraid of talking about you being an amputee. i joke about it a lot. It makes little sense for me to be sad about it. This is my new life. If you say something harmful i will let you know.

Even though i have accepted this new life i still hold a lot of doubt. My guess is that it’s because this life is still very new for me.

i realize i’ve become much less apt to share my feelings with people, because it’s difficult to explain that the feelings people expect me to have, i don’t have. i get asked how i feel about things in relation to this amputee journey, as well as using the prosthetic; and i honestly don’t have a lot of the emotions around it that it feels like people want me to have. The first time i walked with the prosthetic- it was a thing that happened i didn’t have any emotional revelations when it happened.

It actually surprised me that i didn’t have any emotional revelations when i first walked on the prosthetic. i had planned for it. i thought i would cry of joy. However, when i first did it i had massive PTSD (which i have written about). i thought i would be excited and get back to being athletic right away but the new leg traumatized me, and i avoided looking at it for at least one to two months. When i made the decision to put it on it messed up my leg, and i avoided using it again for a while.

Even now, as i am gradually getting better at using the prosthetic- feeling good about finally having had that breakthrough where i felt okay with putting it on; and feeling good about being back on my feet (even if one of those feet are fake)- i still don’t have a lot of major feelings about it. To me, at this point, it’s just something i need to do, if i’m going to get better.

People will just up and disappear when you are at your most vulnerable. We all experience things. People also respond to stress and trauma differently. That said, it should never be expected that people just drop everything they’re doing to tend to all of your needs. But to just stop ANY level of contact is just curious.

Accepting my new body hasn’t been very hard at all. While i am working on returning to at least a modicum of the same athleticism i had prior to being hit by a truck, it has been interesting to see the various levels of my body’s changes, from quickly losing all muscle definition while laying there in the hospital, to getting out and being surprised at still being able to carry 20 pounds after struggling with even opening a jar in the hospital. It’s the small things…

This new life is the biggest test i ever had to take. i can’t tell you if i’m passing though…

Pre-and post-amputation ‘good days’ and ‘bad days’ are VERY different from each other. (Back to point #5: things like this i can feel, but not necessarily know how to explain them)

i’ve learned to get around better than i thought i would. Obviously it’s not easy to navigate a wheelchair in small spaces; it would be easier to carry things as opposed to holding them in your lap (making sure they don’t fall as you roll the chair- and sometimes you have to move bigger boxes with the existing foot); and sometimes, sleeping can be rough. But with all of my limitations i have figured out how to make cooking, doing bathroom things, playing instruments… and getting in and out of the house (when i have to) work for me.

Little kids will stare. And stare. And stare. Obviously i knew this was a thing that happened for disabled folks, but being on the other side of it- the receiving end- is interesting. i just wave at them. And for the most part (with the exception of a couple of criers) they wave back. Kids will stare at anyone they are not used to seeing. i don’t get mad.

i never thought i would be reunited with old friends i never thought i would see again. While some folks opted to drop out, others have returned.

As much as i love cats (and would love more than anything to be in a house full of them) it might be a while before that happens. i want to be better at getting around before i make that type of commitment. This makes me incredibly sad.

There are plenty more things i have learned (and will continue to learn), but i will leave you with these for now.