Doors closing all around me but it's FINE OKAY

The way paint clings to a canvas -- it gets it.

Navigating Disability and Acceptance

The Zen proverb "Let go or be dragged" is undeniably stark, perhaps even intimidating at first glance. It is a literal threat, to be fair. I want to acknowledge that it carries a weighty connotation, one that may not resonate positively with everyone.

Similarly, phrases like "It is what it is" offer solace to some, while feeling dismissive to others. I do love language and the meaning we make of it.

Right now I'm kinda diggin', "Let go or be dragged." It speaks to me on a visceral level, offering a clear directive amidst the chaos. An action: let go.

Challenges of Cat Fostering: A Personal Reflection

I was talking to an endo friend (noun: a friend with endometriosis) about the three-tiered cat crate I bought forever ago intending to foster senior cats. Through my brain fog, I had studied the Seattle Animal Shelter guide for hours and still felt confused about how the process works. I aced the quiz all the foster volunteers take, but would I remember which entrance to use at pickup and which email address to send the whoziwhatsits with the ID numbers and the what??

Not to mention the physical challenges associated with all the transitions - adopter meet and greets, vet appointments, pickups, drop offs, supply runs, and the caregiving itself.

My cat-fostering hobby proved unrealistic to commit to despite my yearning for the cuteness and an outlet for my newly underutilized caregiving talents. (See: the end of my career as a nanny.)

And you might be thinking, accommodations! Sarah, don't you know there are disability accommodations? You can get help with learning the SAS procedures and gets rides to the vet and LET'S GET SOME CATS.

I actually agree completely. I like the way you think. Maybe someday I can foster cats. But is that day soon enough that I should keep a 33"L x 22"W x 67"H box assembled in front of my sliding glass door?

Letting Go: Finding Control in I-Guess-You-Could-Call-It Minimalism

You don't know how tired I am. Like, I can't.

My endo friend and I talked about how we must reconcile with the notion that acceptance doesn't always come easy; it often entails relinquishing the hope that our abilities will magically improve in the near future, granting us access to tasks currently beyond our scope.

I feel some control over my life by parting ways with possessions that once held significance. I'm not only lightening my physical load but also offering myself more options. With fewer possessions, I can adapt to various living situations, more easily squeeze into a cozy nook somewhere.

Stop looking longingly at the empty three-tiered crate. Stop pretending I'll be up for watering the garden when that heat wave comes through (or, you know, at all). Acknowledge that I won't be DIY-ing a bullet journal planner to plan my unstructured, symptom-led hours.

And, yeah, for sure this purge is born of a stress response. Doors seem to be closing all around me. But, like, maybe if I close some of them on purpose it'll be a little less scary? Maybe it'll be easier to trust that I can open them again when it's safe.

Gratitude for the Things, Ideas, and You

I am making video diaries as I say goodbye to my things. There are ambitions to honor as parts of me and some losses to grieve.

For now, my joy is elsewhere.

Thanks for shopping my living room. In this time of financial crisis, the simple exchange of goods for cash reminds I still have assets.