Chally pointed out to me the other day that I was coming up on 100 posts. If scheduling goes right, this should be it. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I noticed, but I wasn’t sure if I should mention it. She has a knack for making people feel proud of things, no matter how trivial they seem to a person, she can make it seem like you’ve won the Pulitzer on your worst day.
It’s funny, the things you learn over the course of all of those 100 posts, or at least I did. Also funny are the way we assign value to things as arbitrary as numbers. Why is this post more important than the next or my last? Why does the first death in a war mean more or less than the 1,000th? Some people have written more, and some less, and for each of us our number is irrelevant. For me, I have a thing about marking out nice round things in ordinal series. Some birthdays are a bigger deal to me I suppose, though my mother remembers all of the recent ones.
It is, instead, what we put in and take away from a moment that matters more so than the number.
I, back when I first started blogging back at my humble little blog, wanted to be part of a group blog. Not for page hits or attention, but to be part of something. To feel that sense of belonging to a group, of being with people who had a sense of purpose. So many things in my life were constantly in disarray, and I wanted… no, honestly I needed something to feel connected to.
And it took a while, but by a random happenstance I was in the right place at the right time, and fell in with a remarkable group of people who came together to channel something hurtful into something positive, because instead of allowing ourselves to be angry, we decided to focus on being a force for change. Thus, did my life take me in a direction I never saw it going, because I had just begun to grasp onto this part of me that was OK with identifying as someone who is disabled. Not only that, I had not really learned how to interact with other people who identified that way. I was shy about venturing out as any kind of public face, let alone as any kind of self-spoken authority. Who was I, I wondered, to pretend that what I had to say mattered?
But I found out that it did matter. Not because, necessarily, that anything particular I had to say matter, but that I took a brave step and spoke up. I have always felt that the shortcomings in my life — my lack of college degree or extensive career — made me less of a credible person. What I found here was that it is the way we, as a community, relate to one another. I found that here I have a voice that matters, if not to many people, perhaps to just a few, perhaps to just one, and if I am brave enough perhaps I can be the advocate for that one person. If one person feels connected to this the way I finally feel connected then I feel that it has been worth all the tears and heart that have been poured into these 100 posts over these past months.
Even more, I found that these remarkable people, these co-contributors and founding members, have become something so deeply ingrained in my life now that not a day goes by that I don’t think of every single one of them and how they have impacted my life. I think about the way that Anna taught me to look at everything I see and think about how it could be more accessible and not to feel bad about demanding that it be so, and how lauredhel reminds me that part of being a good mum is teaching more independence because it leaves me more spoons to enjoy the fun times. I am reminded of the way that K-0 uses words artfully and lovingly, and the way that Amandaw reminds me of myself sometimes with her fierceness to defend fellow PWD. I think about Chally, who is often there at the right moment with the exact right thing to say, and abbyjean, who has a knack for looking at things from a different angle and getting to the quick of it. I can’t forget annaham, who was the first person to reach out to me and help me identify with my disability and to realize it is OK to be unsure of myself and to find strength in asking for help, and I can’t forget s.e. smith whose passion holds it all together and who sees the way everything is connected.
All of these lives have become intertwined with mine, irrevocably. All of you have become a part of it, for the part you play in reading these posts, linking them, sending them around the tubes of inter. We have all made connections and many of us have touched and impacted one another’s lives in many ways. There is amazing power in that… or, there has been for me, anyway. It is what has made the FWD dashboard the first thing I look at on a day I can work and the last thing I check before bed on the same.
I just wanted you to all know that. This is what I have taken away from these 100 posts, and I hope that is what I have put into them for you. That we, as a community of people who want social change for people with disabilities, have reached out and touched across the expanse of space and time, to be slightly cliche. You have impacted me, taught me, and given me more than I deserve, but given me everything that I had been searching for. I hope that through my learning, screwing up, and trying to get it right, I have done a decent job for you all. All of you, contributor and community member alike.
6 thoughts on “Connections”
Thank you for all your wonderful posts. I have not always been able to understand the US militeray centrism, but I’ve read your posts with great interest. I hope you continue to write more interesting content for FWD.
Thank you for what you have given us. It makes a difference, it really does.
Thank you for your posts, and happy… postiversary?
I am very new to feeling good about being a person who identifies as having a disability. And I would have to say that I am also shy about interacting with others who have identified this way for longer than I have. I am writing a zine right now about ableism and how my disability has affected my relationships and how it has strengthened my personality. It is going to be called Our Threshold for Survival. Hope it gets to you. 🙂
Happy soon-to-be 100 posts!
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