No, but really, take care of yourselves

August is literally the worst month ever.

Except for the part where some people got born, and they (well, one of them specifically) are amazing and loved and loving, of course.

Because mostly this is a shit month. Lots of people die. Lots of them. Some of the violently at the hands of the police. I don't know of any police that are held accountable for killing people. Neither does most anyone else. In some places, lots of people have come together to protest this. To protest systematic racism and utterly inequitable education, housing and economic opportunities. To protest the casual and constant racist rhetoric that accompanies the inequality. And now they are targets. Targets of micro and macro aggression. Targets of police, of twitter trolls, of violent racists whose words could very well mask no intent, but whose intent is as much to silence as it is to destroy.

People are suffering, and it is hard work. The reminders to do self-care, to do community-wide self-care are real and they are correct. Find a place to be, a place where you can be at rest for a little while and be there. Drink water. Eat. Sleep. Cry. Hug. Laugh. Watch a movie or a TV show. Play. Draw. Sing. Drink water. Take your meds.

And love.

This year, more than any before, I feel the strain of my appendectomy. Time to cry has been needed. Time to remember what it was to be in a hospital bed surrounded by people I never expected to be there. Time to consider how tremendous it is to be loved.

Self care as health insurance would have saved my body from the damage of the burst appendix. Self care as believing that my friends loved me and would care for me would have gotten me to the hospital sooner. Once I was released from the hospital self care as love challenged me to build a life founded on being as lovable as I was loved. Now self care is silence. Sometimes it is tearful awareness. It is patience. It is an absence of guilt. It is reading groups and making mistakes and riding my bike and appreciating that I live in a world where unaccompanied women of all kinds move about as if in no fear of attack. It is recognizing the racism in my privilege. It is taking deep breaths and learning to stop apologizing and start believing. It is choosing my pop culture.

There are no steps necessary between recognizing that I deserved better medical care and recognizing that everyone deserves better medical care. Except the part about understanding that medical care is not something that you earn, it is something to which you have the right. Only we live in a world where good health is a zero sum game, and only those who are worthy can achieve it, even after something as lovely as the Affordable Care Act. There is still the question of the co-pay. The time to see the doctor. The limits of plans and networks and previous health histories.

Self care is not something that has a limit. It is not bounded. It is built. It is based in love and it can help to save us from ourselves.

We are all small. We are none of us insignificant.

Drink water.
Eat fresh food when you can.
Love.
Be loved.

Let us build something new out of the rubble of what divides us.