on vulnerability

this post was first published on my personal social media accounts on the 17th of august, 2016, four days after the death of jess jacobs.

 

cw bruises, terminal illness

Screen Shot 2017-01-23 at 12.40.59 AM.png

image description: my hand, pale, against a white background, wattle tattoo around my wrist, week-old cannulation bruise flaring out across the back of my hand

i have been thinking about vulnerability. i have been thinking about what we mean when we say “terminal”. doesn’t terminal sometimes just mean destination? is it the journey that matters? the whole point of palliative care is that it’s supposed to be about quality of life but my doctors keep apologising to me and everyone keeps acting like it’s a kind of tragedy, either the brave and beautiful kind or the ugly and uncomfortable kind. but part of my palliative care plan is scheduling two pleasant things a day, every day. is that tragic? i have been thinking about making myself small for other people. I have been thinking about trust. about trusting others when they say i am brave but then look at me like i’m ugly. when they come into my space, where i am making myself small for them. scold me for doubting their love and then scold me for presuming that a thing like me could be loved. i am a small shuffling thing. i am withering. I have been thinking about vulnerability, and about withering, about letting myself soften. about softness.

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