Tired to the bone

There’s something that I read a while back on a spoonie blog that’s been knocking around my head the last few days: “If you think it’s time to upgrade your mobility aid, it’s time to upgrade your mobility aid.” Not everyone with chronic illness or a physical disability uses mobility aids, but I do. Every time I got a new one it was a mental struggle over whether I actually needed it, and every one I’ve bought I’ve grown to love. After an agonizing decision to buy a pair of forearm crutches, I now have a tidy little collection of crutches and three canes of different styles, all of them in bright, colorful prints.

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Today was a bad fatigue day. If you’ve ever experienced fatigue, you’ll know that it’s not just being tired; it’s being exhausted on a cellular level, like your the marrow in your bones has been replaced with concrete, and it’s all you can do to think of anything beyond how tired you are. On days like these, the cane just doesn’t cut it, and I’m starting to think that a mobility scooter may be on the horizon. For someone who loved hiking and walking the dog, and still prides themselves on their determination to keep doing those things as much as possible, considering a scooter feels like quitting. But maybe it lets me go farther for longer, save my limited steps for the things that actually count. And the model I’m looking at goes 15 mph. Whee!

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Today I managed a few hours of writing, a ten minute walk from Harris Teeter to Starbucks to the library, and stopped to do a little OOTD photoshoot. And then I put away most of the clean laundry that’s been on my bedroom floor for the last two weeks. I am unironically super proud of myself.

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I love my bug glasses and my thrifted silk bomber jacket. I don’t link the clothes I wear in these posts because it would just be thrift shop, thrift shop, street seller, got it from my sister, thrift store. The only things I spend real money on are shoes and some jewelry pieces.

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As an artist myself, given the choice between mass-produced and artisans/local artists, I choose the latter. There’s a magic in something made by hand, a kind of intentional magic that factory lines can’t reproduce. Both pieces are silver: the choker necklace, a reclining woman, I bought from a silversmith in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Thank god for good exchange rates – the piece is beautiful and I never could have afforded it otherwise.The skull pendant I bought from a silversmith in New Orleans, who made it from a silver spoon, which is very fitting for that city. Ghosts, magic, stories, and tourism.

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