I’ve been aware for a few months now that my state of mind can drastically effect my sense of taste. Anything I ate in Baltimore was uniquely delicious. Heavily effected by the company and the closeness to water and the fact that I had spent the past three days doing everything for myself and only if I wanted to. I felt so free to just exist and I felt no pressure to toe any line or make any other person happy except myself. I know it sounds selfish to put my self-discovery into words but I am owning this mess. It may be that I am self-absorbed right now; I am okay with that. I think anybody who is damaged and broken and so f*cked up that they can’t even begin to recover – I think those people should be supported in their self-discovery, and allowed to get to know themselves without their abuser, without their triggers, without having to defend their own life as worth recovering.
Only a complete asshat sociopath would tell a patient at a hospital who is recovering from 4 broken limbs and a head wound that they are being “selfish” for being broken and needing time to recover. I have met these people, they exist and I do not like them. My town is full of people keeping up appearances; they may as well all be white pastor’s families broadcasting their perfectness, and their parenting best practices, and their clean line in the sand paying respect to the gender binary. But they are not perfect. Not a one. And it really scrapes on me the way they all try to pretend they aren’t broken in any way ever because my town is not kind to broken people.
I understand why they do it, but I can’t keep it up. I need to recover. I need to get out from under this huge weight. I need a different environment that meets more of my recovery needs instead of living in this bubble barely hanging on through storm after storm of challenges and doubts coming in from all sides. I EXIST. I’M DIFFERENT THAN YOU. Can I live? Can I? There are other people like me here, but they are forced into hiding most of the time. If all the privileged (white) people would put forth a little effort, it would be a mostly safe space for everyone. Stop hiding that you need others. Open those creaky doors and stop creating bullsh*t ways to justify your racism and sexism. Contrary to (my town’s) popular opinion, yes, there are queer folx here; no, they don’t feel safe; no, your money doesn’t absolve you from engaging with your tiny corner of American culture.