viewThere's two parks in the city I like to go to. The park today hugs one of two major rivers in the city. (My other favourite park hugs the other.) I usually bring a blanket and something to read. I only stay for an hour or two before it's time to go home.
While I was reading, a bird thought my toes were branches and landed on them. It was a weird sensation, but if I had known it was a bird (my book was obscuring my view), I would have tried to stay still so it could perch for awhile. Instead it flew to the nearest tree, and I went back to reading.
viewMy body burns this morning. It used to be much more frequent— so frequent, it was daily and hourly for years and years. It's the type of burning that ignites your central nervous system from toe to head, a throbbing, intense sensation that doesn't care what tool you thought you had to alleviate its ever-present pain. All you can do is close the shutters and wait for the skies to clear.
I'm grateful that my body only occasionally burns this intense now. The first five years of my disease will haunt me for longer than I'd like.
viewI've owned a scooter for twelve years now. There's not much to it— it only goes sixty kilometres an hour if there's no wind— but it's one of my favourite ways of getting out of the house.
Tonight I drove around during the golden hour. It's that hour at the end of the day that washes the landscape in a blaze of orange warmth. It's very flat where I am, so the light touches everything around me. It's beautiful.
viewWhen I'm alone in my house, I always feel more hopeful about my future. I'm able to think and tinker without someone looking over my shoulder asking me what I'm doing. But when the front door opens and I'm no longer inside my fictional life, I'm reminded I'm a 34-year-old person with a disability who's been housebound since 26, and that the path to independence is far more winding than I try to imagine when I'm alone.
I know I'm not the only one with these obstacles. And I know I have a shorter path to independence than many more like me. We all deserve to have a life to call our own, whatever that looks like.
viewMy yoga mat is one of the most useful things I own. It allows me to easily practice yoga, which helps me control things that can't be willed away, like muscles that prefer tension and a spine that often feels like stone.
Yet, it's still a luxury. Yoga is meant for everyone, even those who can't afford rectangle-shaped rubber. The extra padding and stability justify its cost, but a few cardboard boxes and a couple towels work too.
My yoga mat is useful to me. But I know one day it might not be around. My knowledge of yoga will be.
The things inside our head are worth more than the things outside.
viewIt's one of those mornings where the inflammation in my hip joints burns so much that I don't want to get up, but I know that I need to get up. The pain lessens with movement, but the struggle is almost as uncomfortable as the inflammation itself.
It's another sunny day, though, and I'm going to enjoy it. It's my last day with the house to myself for a bit. I've been making sure to enjoy these moments this summer. I don't know what the fall will have in store.
viewIt's exactly midnight. I'm in bed. My TV is playing a show in hopes it'll put me to sleep. Sometimes it does, but sometimes I have to turn the TV off, leaving just me and the darkness trying to understand each other's roles.
I remember there was a time I slept without media. When entertainment wasn't so intertwined with my existence.
viewIt's a fairly mundane Monday afternoon. I'm outside in the backyard, tucked away in the shade while the midday sun ripens the tomatoes and cucumbers in my garden. My cat sits quietly next to me, taking in a gentle breeze as her eyes slowly pulse from barely opened to closed. Her peace is intoxicating sometimes. So much so that, if I can swing it, it's all I want to experience. If a cat can be perfectly mindful of a moment, why can't a human?
viewThe crawlspace next to my bedroom is where I grow my cannabis. It's not a tall crawlspace— maybe five feet from the 'rafters'— but it's enough that I'm able to grow my medicine. This tiny little workspace has kept me off almost all prescription medications since 2017. These plants are the reason my suffering has lessened over the years.
I understand it's a privilege to be able to grow cannabis safely and without threat of arrest or violence. The one benefit of the suburbs is that you can do things discreetly without too much pushback from your neighbours. Having people mess with you is frustrating. I am free from that burden for now.
viewThe sump pump mystery is solved. The garden hose in my neighbour's backyard came undone, and water had been seeping into the backyard for over a day, turning it into a well-watered but quite swampy lawn. I just wish some of it seeped over here to breathe a bit of life back into the grass. The weather apps aren't seeing rain for at least another ten days. I hope the farmers around me have the irrigation they need. There's definitely some moisture left in the backyard next door if they need it.