Backlog 3 — 12/30 and 12/31/17

December 30th, 2016.  3:08pm.

I have found myself saying “I was her partner.”

No, I AM her partner.

December 31st, 2016. 6:39am.

Three current sleep patterns:

-can’t sleep at all
-can sleep like a rock for 4 hours max
-can sleep lightly for 2 to 5 hours before I’m awakened abruptly by terrible stomach pain.

I’m so tired.

December 31st, 2016. 8:55am.

Waking up on a Saturday morning, and knowing I don’t have plans with you for tonight (especially on New Year’s Eve), feels like not having a plan for the rest of my life.

I know that doesn’t make sense, but that’s how it feels.

December 31st, 2016. 9:37am.

Trying hard to figure out how to bring in the New Year with all of the sadness and anger that I feel.

I think I might like to go spend some time and money in the company of sex workers/dancers tonight in honor of my love. She was a visible, powerful sex worker, sex worker rights activist/advocate, sexual liberator, and sexual healer to many.

I am thinking The Castle or Le Boy or both. Is anyone down to go? Inbox me, please.

December 31st, 2016. 1:09pm.

I had only one voicemail from Diana on my phone. It is both heartbreaking and wonderful to hear her say she loves me.

December 31st, 2016. 2:01pm.

I need to get used to crying in public. It keeps happening.

Perhaps this is fitting anyway, because nothing about our life and love together was private. It initially felt like a huge risk to openly date a visible sex worker, an anarchist and a rebel, a kinkster. Diana told me early on that she was an exhibitionist in every arena of her life; being with her meant learning how to live and love openly, vulnerably, free of shame. Stigma is shit!

So on that note, just as our love was queer, radicalized, kinky, and very public, I realized that my grief has naturally been and will continue to be public. I will cry in public. And I will not shame myself or let society shame me.

December 31st, 2016. 2:06pm.

Thank you, Loren, for the delicious cookies! So thoughtful.

Thank you, Raffa, for being right there when I needed to run into someone at the farmers market. Your hugs and kisses were healing.

December 31st, 2016. 6:03pm

The idea that her lips will not meet mine tonight, as we welcome in 2017, makes me feel so very heavy.

December 31st, 2016. 10:56pm.

Thank you for dinner, safe space, and lots of love, Susan Doucha. 17 years – we have known each other in so many capacities … But the most important one is feeling like you are a mom to me. Nothing can ever shake that.

I know you can’t stay up for the fireworks tonight, but that’s okay because you ARE a firework (just like Amy was a firecracker).

I love you so very much. Thank you for existing.

December 31st, 2016. 11:21pm.

I’m driving to your house knowing you aren’t there. This is such a surreal fog.

Death is a really awful part of life.

Trying to stay present in gratitude for the many ways in which you made this the most amazing three years of my life.

December 31st, 2016. 11:35pm.

When a Trans person shares about needing to leave sex work…

When a Trans person shares about needing a job…

When a Trans person shares about needing housing…

When a Trans person shares about needing medical insurance…

Listen to them. Hear them. And do what you can to help.

Resources may be finite — but so is that person’s internal resources, their will to survive, their life.

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