sorry i cannot keep up

i’m running; running as fast as i’m able, which admittedly is not that fast, but i do have asthma. which scenario is this? the one where i exercise and run short on breath, leading to an asthma attack? or the one where i try to exist and life beats me with its weapons. do you not think of living as a beast that carries many instruments of torture? how lovely that must be, wonderful, even.

i fit all the 2019 diagnostic criteria for hypermobile ehlers-danlos syndrome, so i told a counselor of mine i need her to transport me to and from and book a primary care doctor appointment, so that they can refer me to some specialist. a rheumatologist? who knows! whatever they decide is best, i suppose. i have so many symptoms; the arthritis, dislocating knees, hypermobile joints, velvety soft skin, arachnodactyly, acid reflux, gi hernias…. and the list goes on.

i used to do ballet. starting when i was three. i also briefly took gymnastics and trampolining lessons. then, acting was my thing, from age 6 onwards, for many years. i took a ballet class again at 14 but it didn’t stick – and at 15 my dad swept the rug from under our feet financially, taking me from middle-class-privileged, something i’d had just enough time to grow accustomed to, to wicked poor, and suddenly i had to quit ballet and my brother had to quit fencing because my dad took the money from the sale of the house in england. the one my mom was on her knees cementing steps for and scaring me by standing on banisters so she could paint far walls and ceilings. she was physically healthier then. she pushed through. my dad taking that money was the last thing, i think, for her, mentally. she was worried after that that she’d lose custody of my brother and i while we were minors after that, she functioned so poorly. i’ve watched her investment of a house fall into disrepair she can’t afford to fix and therefore hasn’t, asbestos and all, leaking pipes and still no heat or plumbing to my room so i can’t visit in the winter, etc. this isn’t a novel about how my dad ruined my life and the lives of others, though. i can save those stories.

so, heds, and suddenly it makes sense – the severe chronic gi issues? i get it, kind of. i mean, if i have a connective tissue disorder of the degenerative nature. perhaps. my illness is severe but not aggressive and fast-paced. for that i am grateful.

oh! and to feel relief. let’s not go there. what healthy person would need to relate; would read my blog?

so, what else. hm.

i dyed my hair extensions. miraculously, i continue to lose weight on my anorexia diagnosis, despite my eating more, to my horror. do as i say, not as i do, and i say eat what your body needs. by no means am i pro anything related to eating disorders in a way that feeds them…because while you aren’t eating, they get to eat away at you.

my hair extensions remain a toned blonde, with blue (diluted sfx fishbowl) and pink (straight out of the bottle manic panic amplified cotton candy pink). cute! i’ll insert an image.

this one has filters and effects, of course.

i must confess: i’ve been watching less and less healthy youtube. also i’ve been uploading videos that may get me sued on my youtube channel, and podcast episodes.

guess what. there’s more! um, i have merch? idk. no sales in the less than 24 hours the store has been open; lol.

it’s podcast/vlog/whatever merch. i’ll put zines on bigcartel one day.

most importantly, i’ve finally realized my dream of putting my face on a mug a la clementine kruczynski in eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. use code faceonamug to save 10%, or… whatever.

here are some fun things:

yeah. cool.

lov u all


never had stitches

i’ve never had stitches
never felt the curved needle poke through my flesh
when i fell backwards onto hard concrete
and my head split open
it was medical glue that they used to put me back together

i’ve never had stitches
never cut my skin so deep that the wound couldn’t heal itself
there was that one time i probably should have
but it healed and now
there is only a large scar on my left thigh where i could have had stitches

i’ve never had stitches
never been brave enough to climb a tree high enough
to fall far enough to break open flesh and bleed out until sewed up
i avoid these hazards daily
anxiety keeps me safe from all kinds of injury – but good things too

i’ve never had stitches
my viscera is inside me and i haven’t needed surgery on it yet
Endoscopy, Colonoscopy, MRI, X-Rays, CT scan, Blood Tests
and of course also Etc, miscellaneous tests
no diagnosis came from them but also no need to be sewed up afterwards

i’ve never had stitches
mental illness is a wound that won’t heal on its own
it has been haunting me in multiple forms for years
but stitches are a disproven treatment method
for my cocktail of severe diagnoses that hurt invisibly without fail

i’ve never had stitches
i’ve had more than 200mg of klonopin in my body as an attempt to end my days
i was in the ICU in a coma for some time
then the psych ward
but suicidality is another wound of mine they can’t seem to stop from hemorrhaging

i’ve never had stitches
i am thankful to have never medically needed them enough
at least enough that i would have died without
or become infected
but believe me when i say, you don’t need to have had stitches to have felt pain