I don’t know why I continue to think that anything fun or decent will happen on a day that involves me pretending to adult on three hours of sleep. I’m all yay let’s write about How My Drawing Skills Resemble A Pair of Unmatched Toddler Boogers, Part 2, but no because don’t forget your country is garbage and also here is this email directly from the Palace of White Calamity that wants to know your Obamacare horror story because it’s so exhausting to come up with brand new alt-facts all on our own so let’s just poll the audience YAY.
I was going to write an entire post on all the ways the current regime is an Obamacare disaster festival. I had a clever play on ohhhh see whut I did thar see how the horror story is really what they’re doing now not what it was see how clever, but three hours sleep plus talking to people is exhausting plus blood sugar bullshit and I can’t even remember how this sentence started let alone how to be remotely clever about this trite, boring, antic of theirs.
And that’s just it. Folks are like, ‘Oh but communicate with the president!’ which…jesus clueless christ, y’all. What has anyone with massive health needs been doing since all of forever? How much health privilege do you have to have to not realize that every minute of every day is each of us screaming from our vomit drenched beds about the struggle that is our day-to-day life? My guess is just enough to know that our lives are hard, but not enough to hear us on the regular. My guess is enough to think that healthcare is a problem in this country, but not enough to fight like you get what risk actually means. Because, if you understood where we, the chronically ill, are on a day-to-day basis, you wouldn’t waltz into a conversation with a chastising remark about communicating with the president in the same way that you wouldn’t reproach an assault victim for not speaking up earlier or a PTSD sufferer for not getting over it sooner.
You would get to your own people and say look how I’m going to fight this, because fuck this shit! Look how I’m writing this to these people, calling these folks, marching here, protesting there, and trolling all of everywhere, so I can help these people who have been screaming since they realized that shrieks in the stone cold quiet bring no aid but remind us all that we are still alive and at least that’s something other than silence all on its own. You would say, look how I will use my privilege to lift these tired scared people.
But you don’t say that.
You say, ‘you should.’
And all your friends agree.