Hang On.

Hang on.

It has been 1806 days no contact.  

I was sitting down the other day fretting about mine and my partner’s precarious employment situation.  Her company is outsourcing their IT , and mine is operating in a small town in which it has historically struggled to find clients.  it’s not dire, we have a few years before this will become an imminent problem.

But while I was staring at our finances and looking for places to tighten up, I realized that I was feeling ‘normal’ worry.  The worry you feel when you have a  concern and you need to find ways to mitigate the problem.

That’s not the kind of worry I’m used to.

More than anything, the feeling I had was “we’ll handle it.”  I have never thought I could handle anything in my life.

That “gets better” they talk about is worth the shit you’re going through now.  Promise.  

[drawing of a green squid saying “I won’t feel this way forever. One day, I’ll be happy again.” in a green speech bubble.]

I just tested positive for covid on Tuesday. I'm quadruple vaxxed, with a decent immune system, so I'm rapidly on the mend. But, objectively, it has sucked.

You know what hasn't sucked? Sharing a home with someone who cares for me and wants me to get better. And living with someone like that may never cease to amaze me.

Hi.

I feel the need to reiterate that trans women are women.  If you’re using my trauma as a means to justify or illustrate a point counter to this, fuck off.  Go be a fool somewhere else, far, far away from me.

Thanks.

Since covid, I’ve been in conversations where my mind has just gone blank.  “What have you been up to?”  “How have you been?”  

It’s back to “I have no idea.  I exist, I guess.”  If only I could actually say that.

a mess

How to Finish

I drew this poster for Jon Acuff and his FINISH book tour. Big thanks to Jon for this collaboration, his book has some great ideas about how to complete creative and life goals.