Welcome to this blog. I’ve been blogging for years, but always under a pseudonym, an internet handle that made it safe to tell my truth. Safe from the people I knew in my real life, safe from the prying eyes of family members and exes and old enemies.
But 2020 is the year I speak all of my truths. A purge, an autoethnography, a relation of my life to the broader society. I have progressive Multiple Sclerosis and a master’s degree in Sociology; both might as well be good for something. My aunt and my mother tell me I can write; my graduate school advisers heartily disagreed. Maybe the people who read these essays will disagree. Maybe no one will read them. But they’ll be out of my head and I know, at least, my mother and my aunt will enjoy them.
I come into 2020 as a 40 year old disabled and severely ill woman filled with rage. Don’t expect inspiration from this cripple. Don’t expect happy endings or an affirmation of the beauty of life. If you’re an old friend, or a family member I haven’t seen in several years, don’t expect a familiar voice. MS has changed me, not just my body, but my brain. The Trump Era has changed me, too. I am a creature of anger and pain, now. So writing is my new outlet.
And here. We. Go.
