My summer has been crazy! I’ve had so many things I’ve wanted to blog about, but I obviously have not- eek! I’ve been traveling, writing (not on the blog), doing homework (ugh), and, oh yeah, getting life-changing-freaking-miracle-new-legs. But, this is me trying to get something down. It’s a random thought about handwritten letters. I published my 200th poem on my poetry blog today! I started it 2,453 days ago (almost 7 years) with my poem, "Mother" on 10/08/12, when I was 10-years-old.So, I was in this writing workshop (it was awesome, long story) and the woman leading it was amazing. However, there was one thing that she said that I could not take seriously. She was going on about how letters are so rare now, but how we should go back to them because back in the days letters were so beautiful and poetic and- Yeah, let me stop you right there. (Disclaimer: I love writing letters! I love getting them and I totally think people should write more of them.) Not all letters “back in the day” before texting were beautiful. No, you better believe we’ve romanticized the hell out of them for whatever reason. Plenty of people wrote plenty of s h i t letters before texting. Boom.
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I didn’t cry as much as I thought I would when I put the braces on for the first time. No, the tears came the next day. Let me stop to say that I respect the hell out of physical therapists- yes, even when I think I hate them a little- because the good ones always know that you can do more than you think you can. Jared is one of the good ones. I watched while he built me an obstacle course from things from all over the room. I was sure that I was going to die, but his confidence in me never wavered. When I climbed onto the first box, I just stopped and stared. The end was far (feeling farther by the second) away, at the other end of the room. There was a zip-line thing that I could hold onto for support, but the floor was lava. Without my new ExoSyms, there would have been no way I would have ever be able to do this. But, since I had them, I had to wonder. I had to believe in myself. And, so, I did. For a good three minutes. Then, near the end, I was short in making a step from one box to the other and fell. Don’t worry, I landed on my feet. Jared had to catch me, and I practically gave myself a second concussion by smashing the heavy handle of the support into my face, but I landed on my feet. I had to stop and breathe. Because I could breathe. I looked around and noticed my racing heart. Then, I reminded myself that I was here, and I could breathe. Then, I stepped back up and tried again. And I finished that damn obstacle course. So, that’s when I really cried. Because I had just done That.
On my GoFund Me: ExoSym for Whit[EDITED FOR BLOG] I am shutting down my GoFundMe page, but it doesn’t end here. You can follow me on Instagram
@walking.take2 for future updates. I am posting videos of all of this craziness because I just cannot put it into words. And why you shouldn’t take themI am proud of where I came from. I have spent a lot of time trying to trace my lineage and family with stories, books, maps, and history. I hate knowing that so much is lost to time. If you know me, you know that I don’t shut up about how crazy impressive I think know my family is. But, the trending DNA ancestry tests are not the way to go; and, these two Vox videos explain why, especially the first one (on the left).
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Who Am I?Hi there! I'm Whit, my pronouns are they/them, and I write a lot.
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Painting by Whit Acrylics on masonite April 20th, 2019 Words are a Quaker saying. George Fox? |