Today, it’s been a year since my dad died. It’s been a hard year. I miss you and love you.
Since dad died, I’ve been busy producing like an animal while in utter grief and floating through its stages. I subconsciously kept myself busy to ease the impact. If you’re a follower of mine, or read what I wrote about grief and depression in my last art post, then you’re aware it was a year of coming to terms with having no parents left, death of friends, a year of too many health issues and unsolvable chronic illness, more progression of my body and a series of neverending mishaps including the flooding of our entire home. And, by last October it got to the point where I couldn’t anymore. I'd been living under a fog of depression…
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Jason: “I just realized it’s completely normal to wipe your butt.”
Me: “It’s a privilege, don’t forget it.”
A window into our conversation while sitting and working at our desks the other day.
Every couple has to work together to find their rhythm and rhyme and we’re no different. But as someone who once wasn’t disabled and in typical able-bodied relationships, it’s no doubt that an interabled relationship has its differences including unique challenges and communication (necessary for any relationship but even more so for interabled).
An interabled relationship is not better or worse, just different…
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While I advocate for disability, rare disease is another entire (very important) section that I could write a book on. It’s unique. We’re rare and often unseen and unheard — and it’s heartbreaking. A world of greed and profit centered capitalism says rare does not count as important as mainstream diseases and offers little profit in a multi-billion dollar sect of high profits in drugs + therapy. Except, combined, there's over 7,000 rare diseases worldwide — most of them genetic and difficult to diagnose. This affects up to 400 million worldwide.
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It’s natural for me to put myself last. I’ve been this way since I was a child. This IS the real me. Because of my life experiences I can feel what others feel and innately look for the lonely, injustice and exploited. But there is also this other side that tells me it’s been a self worth issue; a thing I hear many adoptees experience…(Adoption Awareness Month)
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I keep a private digital journal and one of my recent entries was about not wanting to see others out of fear I’d have nothing to offer but tears…
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Thoughts of being a burden on your partner, a burden on society or loved ones, often streams through disabled minds including mine. Being different often makes one feel unworthy but this is amplified when it’s perpetuated by society...and they’ve been good at telling us how damaged and burdensome we are.
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When I first rolled into my childhood bedroom I was startled when I saw my father. He looked so different, so frail and quiet in his bed, a complete contrast to the boisterous dad with the booming voice that I knew.
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It’s been a difficult couple months, rather year, like it has for so many. I’ve had many deeply sad times. In the past few months everything that could happen has behind the veil of social media.
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It is with deep sorrow I share that my father, Rodney Howard Redlawsk, passed away Sunday, January 31, 2021. He was a proud father of four children and grandfather of four grandchildren. We are postponing services for now but will notify you of our celebration plans in the near future (thinking this summer, outside event).
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When you get older all you seem to have left is your memories. Hold onto those…
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PSA: Disabled people like sex, we talk about sex and yesss we can have sexxx! When you find out you’re going to be disabled one of the first things you may think about is sex and dating. “How is this going to work?” is not a question specific to curious prying eyes from strangers yet also an internalized one that burns deep within you…
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I’ve been pretty weak lately and it's discouraging. Maybe it’s heightened from the stress of all this division and misunderstanding and how this division permeates personal life and relationships but either way, it’s there — achingly reminding me with every little movement…
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“... this lack of representation I literally thought I was white. In fact, I was stunned at a tender age of 11 when I finally realized I was Asian while looking back at myself in the mirror. And it was a weird mix of emotions... Lack of representation feeds everything...”
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October is National Disability Employment Awareness Month. This year is also the 30 year Anniversary of ADA (American Disabilities Act). I wanted to share a little history on how disabled were treated from the beginning, to the disability movement and the less-known fact that Black Panthers and disabled black activists were intricately involved in the success of the famous 501 sit-in; the longest non-violent occupation of a federal building that helped paved the way to the ADA. To celebrate all that has been achieved we Chair Deviled disabled activists Judith Heumann and Bradley Lomax.
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“When you grow up in a world that doesn't see you or welcome you or include you or represent you, you believe the world isn't for you." / “Physical Visibility is an important step toward political/social freedom and equality.”
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They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but often times a photo omits the reality. After all, it’s a millisecond snapshot in a day of 86,400 seconds…
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With a progressive disease time is always nagging me because how I am physically today won’t be my reality next year. This can make me feel powerless, and documenting is a form of savoring what is...what was. Perhaps it’s also a way to have some kind of control in an uncontrollable situation…
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I’m drawn to the abandoned; the stories lost in time, the unheard and the silent loneliness sitting in injustice. I always have been. The abandoned consumed my mind as a child. Abandoned places provoke questions; a lost battle ending in scattered relics of what could have been. It’s a place for imagination, a game of fill-in-the-blank. It’s about feelings of regret, nostalgia and the memories left behind…
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Connect with the living 🌱 A little chasing of isolation today with not a person in sight.
Our holiday weekend consisted mostly of work but we managed to sneak in some nature. We took a stroll in an isolated neighborhood admiring everyone’s carefully pruned lawns and beautiful quiet nature. After no makeup all year and months of wearing pajamas crusted with food and oily hair, I thought maybe I should try and look human for my audience of one.
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Noah Purifoy was an African American visual artist, sculptor, founder of Watts Towers Art Center and one of the most known assemblage artists. After Watts Riot of '65, Purifoy dedicated himself to the found object, to the ‘junk...which had begun to haunt our dreams.’
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