Disabled Community Megathread from December 15th to December 28th

Ableism is both necessary for and dependent on white supremacy, imperialism and colonialism, capitalism, queermisia and transmisia, and misogyny.

-'What I do know about COVID-19', Autistic Hoya Blog by Lydia X.Z. Brown, dated March 26, 2020

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Mask up, love one another, and stay alive for one more week.

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153 comments

Had a profound, and very depressing experience last night. I was cleaning out my Walgreens drug closet where I keep all my prescriptions and supplements, and happened to stumble on some old buprenorphine transdermal patches. I didn't even realize they were in there as I must have taken them out of the box they came in. The patches expired in 2024 (got them after one of my many surgeries long ago), so I was going to throw them out, but I figured fuck it, why not get some use out of them if I can. My arm is still in quite a bit of pain post surgery, and it was killing me, so it seemed like the opportune time. They are 10mg so I cut it in half and stuck it on my shoulder.
Hour or two pass and I just get done watching the new Pluribus (very good and thought provoking) and then I start thinking of the stars. Carol and Zosia were at a telescope, looking at the stars, and it made me think of the time the love of my life and I went out to see them one night. Except, I can't actually "see" that memory because long covid broke my brain, so while I know I did that thing and I did it with her, I can't see her. I can't see her looking up at the stars. I can't see the stars, or the telescope, or the night sky. I can't see her smile. I can't hear her laugh. There's just nothing there but the event. Then I started to cry. Like cry cry. Ugly cry. For a good 5 minutes or so. Just feeling the absolute sadness of the fact that I may never be able to remember her, or frankly anyone or anything in my life, properly. It filled me with the most profound sadness. I never cry, not in a "I'm a macho man and crying is for pussies" kind of way, more that I'm just not really able to give into my emotions like that on a normal basis because I have to be the one holding it down all the time. Then, it was just over. Just like that. I wasn't really high, I didn't feel stoned or unable to control my emotions. In that moment it just hit me like an absolute ton of bricks.
I really don't know what it ultimately means or how to process it, but since I don't have a therapist worth a damn at the moment, I wanted to at least engage with the experience a little.
- Here's a big hug, if you want it
  
  I felt that sadness you described. This is tough, and there are no proper words to describe the feelings. Realizing how bad your memory is bc of long covid is a nightmare all on its own, but then realizing you can't recall such a treasured memory in detail? It's devastating, and I am so sorry you have to suffer like this. Wish there was something I could suggest to make it easier to deal with, but that's unfortunately not how grief works. You lost something precious, and it hurts, but I'm glad you shared your story. Grieving shouldn't be done all alone. Sending you love and compassion, friend <3
  
  Thanks GB. I'm used to the suffering to be honest. But the "trip", as it were, combined with the experience, just sent me floating off into space. I'd love to find a therapist but my efforts to talk to multiples of them about any of this has just been met with this general response:
  
  Anytime BPS
  
  Trips like these can be cathartic in a sense. Sure, nobody should be continuously tripping, you know that as well as I do, but in this particular case, maybe it helped shake a barrier loose that kept all these emotions bottled up? I don't know, I can only guess. I'm glad it helped in a sense.
  Lol I get that therapist sense. It's hard to find one that makes you feel understood/seen/heard without feeling like you're the problem. I hope there's one out there that'll make you feel less like the dog hearing the vet voice mail and more like the human you are, finding a good listener and helper.
  
  So do I but its not likely as none of the good therapists take insurance here and I can't afford $250-500 an hour for one. Finding a partner would be wonderful but covid has made that next to impossible. So, its just me and the man in my eyebrow, surfing the choppy waters of life in this dystopian hellhole.

153 comments