Highlights
I am reaching for a languid breath, for a release of all the terrible things I've had to hold, for a recognition that I am already, finally safe. I want to be generous, to spoil myself beyond measure, to understand that my flesh is worthy of extravagance, even as I watch it convulse, dancing without me.
The next time my neck seizes and my muscles contract with a shocking violence, I allow it. For once, I can see the beauty in having flesh that is as loud as my spirit. It insists on care, it is just as stubborn as I am, just as brilliant, and I forgive it for being like this, disabled and furiously alive.
I swear I don't want to be cruel. I want to see my flesh as both delicate and resilient, worthy of tenderness and restraint.
This disability is invisible in me, pain clenched in my molars like a tight secret.