Walk On Podcast Episode 53 : The Silver Lining of Chronic Illness
It started with migraines. Maddening pain over my right eye that would cause light sensitivity, sound sensitivity, nausea and vomiting—sometimes I would pass out. This seemed caused by allergies, stress, over-heating, low blood sugar, and hormones. When they started I got an MRI and put on medication that made me too drowsy for school. I learned to cope by stopping whatever I was doing and laying down in the dark, this made it hard to get through a whole day at school, a vacation, a family function, a shift at work. I started popping Excedrin which began an over-a-decade long dependence on the caffeinated pain killer.
It also started with my period. Days spent in the fetal position crying, groaning, unable to think of or feel anything but the searing pain in my stomach, my back, my thighs, my knees. Everyone told me that a period wasn’t an excuse, so I powered through, somehow, thinking that everyone felt this way. But the thing was, I knew I was no punk ass when it came to pain. I used to laugh at getting spankings. I once played a field hockey game with a chipped tooth and a mouthguard full of blood. I once toured the country dancing on a broken ankle every night. Hyposensitive to pain, I have often hurt myself and barely even noticed. I wasn’t being dramatic, I was being tortured from the inside out.
Then came the body aches. The fatigue. The realization that, thanks to a handful of bad car accidents, the trauma of getting close-lined WWE style by a pull-up bar in sixth grade, my two front teeth forced up into my sinus cavities, and over 10 years of surgeries, PLUS the bracing for impact my body got so used to from being physically, emotionally, verbally, and sexually abused in my childhood, my body had no idea how to relax. Throughout my 20s the pain escalated every day to the point where being at the bottom of a staircase, a trip to grocery store, cooking dinner, doing my laundry would make me feel a deep sense of hopelessness about continuing to live.
If this is always how it’s going to be I don’t think I can do it.
Working was difficult. Making art was difficult. Sleeping was difficult, being awake was difficult. I retreated to hot baths which soothed my joints and muscles and angry uterus, but increasingly caused migraines. Any time I got sick with anything, it would cause a flare up. Any time I worked a double shift, it would cause a flare up. Any time I got stressed out, it would cause a flare up. Any time I got my period, it would cause a flare up. I was in a perpetual state of flared up.
I spent my 30th birthday rocking back and forth, sobbing, as it felt like every joint in my body was on fire, tensing up against an invisible enemy, out of my control.
I have had to quit dancing/stripping, working out, riding dick, anything but gentle yoga practices, food service work, even playing guitar for long periods of time started to hurt. This brought on a level of grief I couldn’t have anticipated. During this time in my life I didn’t have health insurance, so weed was my only solace, being blazed out of my mind and a handful of Tylenol my only medication.
I have missed out on opportunities, been flaky as fuck, experienced judgment and ridicule, had people take my unpredictable health extremely and unnecessarily personally, found little-to-no-help from doctors, and had to put my dreams and ambitions on the back burner so many times at this point that I sometimes fear, now that I’m able to work on my art more consistently, I may be too old. I have been achingly, depressingly, almost unbearably lonely in moments, too. It turns out being constantly in pain doesn’t make you much fun to be around.
I withdrew. I rested. I found identity outside of work, capitalism, being consumed. I learned to meditate, to rest, to work, to cum in comfort. I learned to relish rest and not spend my resting time yelling at myself for not working or cleaning or working out or being social. I learned isolation is better than subjugation. I learned my value lies in who I am in the world, in my ability to be present with a sunrise, with a birdsong, with the breath in my lungs. I learned gratitude for each millisecond I get to experience without pain. I learned I needed to lay boundaries in every area of my life, even within my own mind. I need as little stress as possible, I need gentleness and I let myself leave anything that isn’t that behind without guilt.
Since covid and the bitter-sweet gift of being on unemployment, I have had more pain free days than I’ve ever had in my life. I have set up ways to work that allow me to do so from bed, should I need to. I live in a supportive, peaceful, quiet, as-stress-free-as-possible loving home, where I am able to process my trauma and treat my pain with rest without scrutiny or gaslighting. I am learning to love the chrysalis, the protection, the unchangeable reality of my chronic illnesses. This is the most profound lesson in surrender I have yet to experience. I am at peace.
Finding the label "chronically ill" like so many of my other coming home labels came with a sense of relief, a sense of explanation, a sense of forgiveness and self-compassion, but also a lot of loss, a lot of anger, frustration, depression, anxiety, and resentment at my lack of resources, at my relentlessly difficult life, at my failing body, and at the systems that make it so hard for me to survive, let alone thrive. But then came the sacred art of rest, an ever deepening relationship to myself, a very natural weeding out of people who can't muster empathy, a kind of freedom. Listen here.
Walk On Podcast Episode 52 : The Beauty of Neurodivergence
I’m pretty sure everyone I’ve ever loved has been neurodivergent. I am drawn towards brilliance and non-conformity, and people who fidget a lot. I find complexity and multitudinousness and a life lived free from social constructs fascinating. And, more importantly, I don’t feel as far away, as misunderstood, as obviously inhuman as when I am around more neurotypical folks.
I say more neurotypical and not just neurotypical, because I understand that if something occurs on a spectrum, that means there are infinite ways to be that thing. That means that more people fall on that spectrum than don’t, statistically speaking. This is how I have come to the conclusion that the construct, the idea, the standard of “neurotypical” is yet another impossible-to-be perfectionism-upholding weapon of the white supremacist capitalist cisheteropatriarchy. This is why you see soooo many people relating to content about neurodiveristy and seeking out official diagnoses and treatments for struggles they never had a word for, before.
This isn’t some sPeCiaL-sNoWfLaKe agenda to feel special. Actually, it kind of is a special snowflake situation, in the sense that, like gender, like sexuality, like perception in general, like literal snowflakes, each person is a unique expression of humanity with a totally personal relationship to experiencing life???? And none of us can know what the color purple is to anyone else unless we hear each other out??? And receive each other’s stories without the projections and expectations of our own?? Open-hearted?? Open-minded?? Willing to learn??
When we function under capitalism, there is a necessary-to-the-system scarcity and competition that keeps us at each other’s throats. Divide-and-conquer is a technique used in all abuse dynamics. We continue upholding unmeetable expectations by enforcing them on one another and we can choose to stop at any time.
Moving through life in a neurotypically-designed society can feel, to the neurodivergent, like we have our experience set to hard mode. Every system, process, requirement elicits feelings of being a burden, being a failure, and lots of unnecessary struggle and suffering. Take away the expectations and booby traps of the white supremacist capitalist cisheteropatriarchy, though, and what we find is the utter awe-inspiring, world-changing, outside-the-box beauty of neurodiversity. Let's co-create from this place. Listen here.
Walk On Podcast Episode 51 : On the Spectrum!!
I would sit on my pretty Barbie sheets, snot running down my face, eyes puffy red, gasping for air, mid melt-down, while my mother stood over me screaming. It wasn’t that I was trying to be difficult, it’s that the dress clothes I was supposed to wear made me feel like I was dying. It wasn’t that I was too lazy to go into the grocery store, or that I was trying to be mean/grumpy/a little fucking brat/disrespectful, it’s that the variance in temperatures, the loud buzz of the florescent lights, the smells, the other people, the incessant beeping, made it hard to be sweet. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful for vacations or parties or romantic evenings, it’s that I didn’t realize I wasn’t smiling. It’s not that I blatantly ignore a text, bail on plans, or get lost on the way to functions, out of some personal grudge or malice, or malleable character flaw, I am simply autistic.
I sat down at a piano the first time in a church sitting next to my father, who only lives in a couple of my memories. I loved the sensation that the keys made—the delightful little thump of the hammer striking the strings. This began my lifelong love affair with the sensory experience of making music. Any time I sat down with an instrument, I would obsess over teaching myself how to play it. I started writing and composing, printing out my lyric sheets in rainbow comic sans, with underscores to mark the length of notes.
I was hyperlexic; meaning, I just knew how to read. Beginning at age 4 (that I can remember) I started reading books on my own and didn’t ever stop. I read like I breathe, constantly, and almost automatically—the words just fill my head with images and I lose all sense of here and now. I love it. I started writing, too. I made a little newsletter in my diary, I created elaborate worlds for my friends and I to play pretend.
My inner world is so vast that I can be happy sitting in a room alone, just thinking. I can dissociate so easily that, in my childhood, when something horrible or even just boring was happening, I could glaze my eyes over and disappear, with no memory of what happened IRL, but a vivid one of whatever mind path I was traveling down. This was a seed that would bloom into a deeply healing and reality-bending transcendental meditation practice.
I stim by dancing, I can pick up choreography after seeing it once. I started choreographing whole routines when I was 8. I stim by singing, I practice constantly, and have for at least 31 years. I stim by walking, I’ve put in miles, hunny!! I stim by swimming. I stim by rubbing my cuticles raw and bloody. I stim by chewing on the sides of my cheeks, playing with my bottom lip, bouncing my leg.
I mask and mask well. Mostly because I never had a word for what was “wrong” with me, so I just pretended I was normal, wishing my alien family would beam me up and save me from this confusing hellscape. People always complimented me on my ability to be very social, while remaining hospitable to those who weren’t as good at it, and without feeling the gravity of what I was saying, I would reply, “I’m a really good actor.”
I burn out. I shut down. I hibernate. I go quiet. I bundle up. I watch the same 3 things I’ve watched 1o0 times, because knowing what line comes next makes me feel safe. I lose friends, I lose jobs, I lose opportunities, I let bridges burn, too tired to argue, I recharge, I try again.
I wouldn’t change a thing.
I am autistic. I did not have a word for my feelings of "different" until I was 27 years old. This has been a constant source of suffering, judgment, oppression, rejection, and struggle for me. It has also been my biggest blessing. My autism makes me who I am, and I wouldn't change a thing about it. Hear my experience with the light and the shadow, the wins and the losses, hear how this optimizes me for non-conformity, creativity, and social justice. Let this inspire you to release yourself and others from the expectations of the white supremacist-capitalist-cisheteropatriarchy. May we all find the peace of just being.
Walk On Podcast Episode 50 : Holy Shit!!! I’ve Made 50 Episodes!!!
Consistency is key.
That’s what I kept reading every time I googled “how to make podcasting your job”. Consistency is key. Consistency for me may not look like someone else’s definition of consistency. I want to quit. A lot. As in, often. I get discouraged. I feel the fear—the sheer terror—that comes with being so very vulnerable every week with the intention of being heard. Then, I inevitably find that my listenership is still 1-10 people every week, and I want to quit because I’m not being heard. I was in a good groove, averaging about 30 listeners a week when I started this journey over two years ago and lost steam thanks to capitalism and the stress of surviving under it, too exhausted to create. I would lose an essential resource, I would get sick, a global pandemic would happen, and I’d have to take 3 months off.
LOL!!!
But, inevitably, I would return. Because I love doing this show. After a good 28 years of being pretty silent, pretty docile, pretty self-doubtful, pretty wounded— or if I did dare to speak up, quickly and effectively punished—it feels fucking good to talk uninterrupted for an hour a week. It feels good to have someone—even one person—reach out and say “I really needed to hear that last episode.” It feels amazing to put something positive and good-intentioned out in the world; not for the purpose of making money or getting recognized or attaining some sort of illusory status, but just for the sake of making the world a little softer, a little gentler, and a little more healed. I do it to be the messenger I didn’t have, but so badly needed.
This week’s Walk On Podcast is a celebration of 50 whole ass episodes!! Been screaming into the void consistently inconsistently for 2 years!!! And I’ve barely made any inside-the-matrix progress, but on a red pill level, I’m doin’ alright. Here for anyone who needs a kind word or permission to Walk On. Listen here.
Let this be a reminder to keep on keepin on. All that really matters is that you’re having fun :)
Heat Wave Blues
meme by @queersatanic (IG)
Reading the news for the past few days/weeks/months/years has really got me down. Seeing the melting power lines from the west coast, the building collapsing in Florida, and getting the text alerts about power outages thanks to the heat here in nyc, I have been feeling new depths to the hopelessness that only thinking about Climate Change can bring. This is tough for me, a self-proclaimed chronic optimist, because my natural state is hopeFULL. But what is the purpose of co-creating a better world, if it’s an impossibility? As we are seemingly hurtling towards extinction??? Oh, and let’s not forget that no one with any power to change things seems to be interested in fixing our harmful ways of interacting with the earth, our home, our mother AT all?!?!
But, life going on the way it does, my partner, dog, and I rode the elevator down with one of our sweet neighbors this morning. As we all clamored to hold the door for one another, we all bathed each other in earnest thank yous and smiles and giggles at our good manners and the awkwardness of the humanity of walking in the same direction as someone you aren’t necessarily walking with. As soon as I stepped out the front door I exhaled relief “UGH it feels so much better out here!” My partner agreed, “it really does” as the neighbor prayed “thank God.”
I teared up thinking I guess, at least, we’re all in this together.
Walk On Podcast Episode 49 : Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby!
My first orgasm was my first meditation. It was my first venture into self-discovery. It was my first secret with myself. It was my first connection to the sacred and the divine. Growing up in the Bible Belt complicated this connection. The shame at being a perceived girl and a sexual being at the same time was programmed in me early and often. This contributed to my being closeted, being afraid of my sexuality, and feeling “bad” for being curious.
Over the course of my journey through this life so far, I have encountered so many unique expressions of sex and sexuality that the spectrum of experience truly seems infinite. So why are we told there is one way, and one way only, to be?
You guessed it, kids!! It’s another program.
Separating us from pleasure—praising those that can deny themselves as more moral and demonizing those that don’t as less moral is the way that shame creeps in. This isn’t just in regards to sex. Think about the pleasure of rest, the pleasure of eating, the pleasure of enjoying life in literally any capacity. Even the pleasure of loving oneself is something that inspires judgment in others. We are not supposed to enjoy ourselves. We are not supposed to find ourselves. We are not supposed to become ourselves. Why?
Well, because then we don’t need a bunch of products to fill the void. Because then we don’t hate ourselves and bully each other into the mind-aching monotony of conformity. Because then we find healing and don’t feel the need to perpetuate the generational cycle of suffering that we inherited from those who came before us. Think of the “I paid my student loans so everyone should have to!!” people. Yikes!
Doing something you don’t want to do or being forced to pretend to be something you aren’t is a violation of consent. And consent is obligatory for pleasure. The comfort and safety of the ownership of one’s own being is healing on infintessimal cellular and cosmic levels. Let’s give each other the gift of acceptance, understanding, and open-mindedness, cuz that’s love.
Everyone's individual expression of sexuality is completely unique to them. We are all tuning forks for the Universe, emitting our own frequency, and that's good! When someone tells you who they are, believe them--celebrate them, rejoice in the freedom of their authenticity!!! If someone changes their mind, that's great too!! We are ever-expanding!! Lay down your judgments and preconceptions and just be. Embracing pleasure and the pleasure of self-expression is an act of revolution. That's why its such a threat to the status quo. That's why we're taught to deny ourselves. Fuck that. Be free.
Walk On Podcast Episode 48 : Queer as in Fuck You
Bruce Lee said we are never more unsure of ourselves than when we are forging a completely new path. Because of the audacity of the white supremacist-capitalist-cishetero-patriarchy, straight is considered the default and everything else is considered “other.” The issue with this is that it’s a lie. With queerness being a spectrum, sheer data would suggest that most people are not entirely straight. So, then, why does it seem like queer is a minority?
Well, first of all, queer isn’t a minority, it’s marginalized. Systemically oppressed does not mean fewer in number, like the word “minority” would suggest. Also, the answer to the aforeasked question is… conditioning. We are conditioned straight. Before we are even out of the womb everyone around us starts speculating about what it’ll be like when we get straight-married, when we have children, what our interests or jobs will be. This creates expectations. So, instead of being allowed to grow into our natural, authentic selves, we (the children versions of us) conform—especially if we are punished when we don’t. This is because being loved and accepted is a basic human need. We don’t develop properly without it. Aaaaand that’s why we have self-help podcasts about leaving bad relationships and learning to love yourself like this one lol.
Being queer isn’t all struggle—it isn’t all suffering. It’s also a lot of choice. We are more likely to question the status quo intersectionally, because we know that we have been fed a lie. (Not as a rule, obv, because lots of queer white people are v problematic but I’m just saying more likely to question than your average straight person) If a person/system/program is lying about one thing, you can be pretty sure they are lying about lots of things. We see this and we go “hmm…what else needs questioning?” And we decide. We decide about monogamy, about marriage (symbolically if not legally), about children, about living situations, about how we have sex, about who our family is. Out of necessity (because the powers that be have historically perpetuated our suffering), we have always been forced to participate in mutual aide, in alternative work, in creating community spaces for ourselves.
There is an inherent revolutionary energy in being queer. The conflict is, we are often treated better the more we conform. What if I’m not interested in changing who I am to make the whitesupremacistcapitalistcisheterpatriarchy and all it’s disciples accept me? What if every fiber of my integrity tells me everything that they are is wrong?
This week, coming at you from the rainbow vortex, the forest of the future, the question without answer, the inherent revolutionary freedom in being Queer as in Fuck You. Forging a path untrodden is tough, it's lonely, it's scary, it's fraught with blocks and hurdles and backslides and failures, but it's also really fuckin' fun. The beauty of being outside the status quo is the opportunity for critical thought, for a fortitude in authenticity, for choice in all directions. Why conform when you could be free? Listen here.
Walk On Podcast Episode 47 : What Gender?
Happy Pride Month!!!!!!!!!!!!
We’re here, we’re queer, we won’t disappear!!!!!
Gender is a construct. A construct is a program. A program is an illusory limitation we adhere to simply because “the matrix” doesn’t appear to give us a choice. The gender binary of boys-do-this and girls-do-this is indoctrinated into us absurdly young. For those people who’s parent’s had gender reveal parties—it started very publicly and before they were even born… and in the form of pink-or-blue shit stains in a fake diaper, no less. Is that right?? Is that how it works?? Did I nail it?? Anyway, gender is fake.
That isn’t to say people’s gender never fits within the binary—there are binary cis and binary trans people—after all, gender is a spectrum. And not a straight line spectrum, either…more like a technicolor sphere spectrum. A quantum timeline spectrum of multiple realities. A psychedelic, trip, man!! Gender is as personal, as indivual, as autonomous as the shape of the lines of our fingerprints. It’s a choose-your-own-adventure-game. Anyone who would presumed to tell you how to do it probably has some major internal work to do because why? Why do people care so much about how other people gender?
In my experience, gender variance has been an opportunity to question every construct, and to decide—with intention—how I find freedom in this hologram we call existence, ya dig? Question everything. The truth is out there. Listen here.
Walk On Podcast Episode 46 : Life Lessons of a Struggling Artist
photo by Heath Antonio
I have been a lifelong struggling artist. By this I mean, I have always been poor and fat and (even if for a long time I was DEEP in the closet) queer. I have always been autistic and a victim/survivor of abuse. I have always been socially anxious and at times what my peers and caretakers called “ugly” lol. All of these things were sold to me as reasons why being a professional musician was out of my reach. I tried it anyway.
I taught myself piano when I was 8, I started writing music when I was 10. I started writing, directing, choreographing, and composing the music for shows my friends were forced to perform ( I was a little… bossy) around that time. My whole life I have taken dance classes when I could afford them, written obsessively, I have so much original music in the vault of my brain I’ve lost count of how pieces many there are… I have written books, I have outlined screenplays, I have performed in operas and skits and been in a number of bands, I have released albums, I have toured the country as a burlesque performer (Strippin’ My Way Across The USA!!). And yet, still, I am rarely paid for my art. Still, yet, I have not “made it”.
Sure, there have been deep moments of doubt and frustration. Sure, my “limitations” have occasionally gotten in the way. And, yes, I have failed and failed and failed again. But what I have learned is that the drive and ambition of capitalist values only interfere with my creative process. I have decided to live in my integrity as a spiritual anarchist, and release any expectations or desires for fame. I have chosen the path of not stepping on others in order to succeed, though I have been stepped on. I have fallen deeply in love with my art, as it is my purest connection to the Universe. It flows. In moments where I am praying, crying, begging to be good at literally anything else, it flows. I cannot stop it. I cannot contain it, it is not mine. I pour it out, like a fountain, for anyone who might embrace it. I jimmy a life together. It’s not much, but its mine.
It is a spiritual principle that moments of contrast often teach us more than moments of comfort--in my 16 or so years of professional struggling artist-dom, I have learned A LOT. It isn't all about "making it", sometimes the beauty really is in the journey. Listen here.
Walk On Podcast Episode 45 : If We Don’t Laugh… We Cry
I love to laugh. Big belly laugh. Tears-flowing-running-to-the-bathroom-cuz-I-might-pee-my-pants-laugh. The absurdity of life is funny—sometimes things are so exorbitantly terrible that it circles back around to being funny. Laughter has been a life saver.
Laughter really can be the best medicine. It's a tension reliever, a happy brain chemical producer, and one of the least harmful coping mechanisms available to us--but if relied on too much, making a joke out of our feelings can block us up. How can we look at life with humor while still honoring the shadow side of existence? Listen to find out!
Walk On Podcast Episode 44 : Whatever Gets You to the Light, ‘Salright
Walking in the darkness of generational trauma (which none of us is immune to, BY THE WAY), can be a lonely road. It’s scary, it’s riddled with grief and coping mechanisms clung onto yet needing to be shed, it’s hard fucking work.
The thing about the ego is that it just knows it’s right. In spirituality, in being human, our main quest is to transcend the voice of the ego in order to access the divine cosmic wisdom within. Sometimes other people’s judgment and assuredness that their way is the only MOST correct way makes this more difficult.
There is no shortage of people who will tell you how to live your life. What if you stopped listening to those external voices and let your intuition guide you? Maybe the secret to what will lead you to healing is in what has helped before--maybe it's in what has always made you feel alive. There is no judgment on this path, only growing, only love. Whatever gets you to the light is alright.
Walk On Podcast Episode 43 : What a Healthy Relationship Looks Like
Thanks to romanticized pop culture depictions of toxic love, we have a distorted perception of what healthy relationships look like. This week we're unpacking and reprogramming real love, baby!
Romcoms, romance novels, love songs and chivalrous love poems all have one over-arching theme running through them—the love is unrequited. It’s all about one person pining away for someone they wish would love them back, someone they wish would treat them right, but who doesn’t. Unrequited love is a real bummer. Sure, there are few things as transformational as a love that’s unreturned that forces you to look within yourself to heal why you would subject yourself to such torture in the first place, but why isn’t there more focus of healthy, reciprocal love?
This week’s Walk On Podcast aims to demystify romantic love and break it down to the basics. What makes a healthy love healthy? Listen to find out.
If you’d rather watch than listen, or if 20 minutes if preferably to 60, watch an abridged version of the podcast here!
Happy Healing, Soul Family!
Walk On Podcast Ep 42 : Child Sexual Abuse
The conspiracy of silence around child sexual abuse is so pervasive that victims carry the shame of the secret with them for their entire lives. This leads to substance use disorders, mental health struggles, low self-esteem or self-worth, an inability to engage in self-care, a lack of boundaries, a tendency towards unhealthy relationships, eating disorders, perfectionism, anxiety, depression, a lack of trust, and lots of other harmful manifestations of the weight of the abuse and the betrayal of not being believed.
It would be an understatement to say that being a child sexual abuse survivor is one of the toughest paths that is possible for a human being to walk. You are not damaged, you are not broken, your life was not ruined before it ever started, you are a survivor. Healing, belonging, faith, happiness, and wholeness are available to you. You are not alone, #metoo
Telling your story is an integral piece of the healing puzzle. This is mine.