Maranda Russell's Blog, page 4

Living with Disabilities book club

A few posts ago, I shared some information about an Asexual Book Club I started on Facebook. Well, I enjoyed it so much, I decided to start another Facebook group book club centered on the subject of living with disabilities.

The Living with Disabilities Book Club will be reading and discussing a book (fiction or nonfiction) every month about someone who lives with a disability (physical or mental). Please join if this sounds interesting to you! Our first book will be for February and has already been chosen: “Ido in Autismland – Climbing Out of Autism’s Silent Prison” by Ido Kedar.

Poetry – Minor bouts of mania

minor bouts of mania fun guy get things done depressed sit in dark room give me whatever I want clean the house contact reach out talkative grocery store line love me they all love me bulldoze you all

Poetry – please let me go

Please let me goplease let me golet me flicker out of existence for a whileLet this heart stilllet this mind be silencedlet these feelings fadeuntil I can bearto face them again.

Short monologue – Time traveler

Why am I leaving?

No, I’m not traveling back in time to stop Hitler.

Nope, not Mao either.

Yeah, that whole holocaust thing was a disaster, but that’s not my assignment.

Nope, I’m not allowed to save JFK or MLK, even if I’d love to meet those two.

Yes, stopping slavery earlier would be noble, as would working to prevent the coming climate disaster.

Unfortunately, I’m being paid to go mess with history for one reason and one reason only…to stop the discontinuation of Cap’n Crunch Choco Donuts. Bezos loves his cereal.

I Started an Asexual Book Club

Hello everyone! I wanted to take a minute to let you all know that I started an Asexual Book Club group on Facebook! I wanted to join an Asexual themed book club, but couldn’t find one, even online, so I decided to start my own! As you would probably assume, the club will read a new book each month that relates in some way to asexuality, whether it be fiction or nonfiction. I’m open to suggestions for books if you know any good ones!

I know I don’t talk a whole lot here on my blog about identifying as asexual, but it is something that is part of my life. Many people don’t understand the concept at all, thinking asexual equates to “abstains from sex” or “hates sex”, but that isn’t it at all. Asexual really just refers to the experience of feeling sexual attraction (or lack of it). Asexuals range widely from entirely nonsexual or sex repulsed to those who actually enjoy sex. There is a variety of subgroups in the asexual spectrum, which include romantics and non-romantics, different kinds of situational attraction, and more.

So, if you happen to be asexual, know someone who is, or just want to learn more about it, please consider joining my book group! Our January pick is “Every Heart a Doorway” by Seanan McGuire, the first in an exciting fantasy series!

Flash fiction – red roses

Red roses. A sign of romantic interest, elegant sensuality, and passionate love.

Yes, I have received red roses, but mine weren’t accompanied by affection, butterflies fluttering around my stomach, or flirtatious kisses and caresses.

Mine came with feminine shame, a statement of sexual entitlement, and a paranoia I just can’t shake. I fear I see him in the cereal aisle while picking out my Cheerios. I peek over my shoulder again and again as I walk the driveway to my mailbox. I wake in the predawn, still riding the waves of a nightmare that bleeds into waking reality.

All because of red roses.

Poetry – Is there meaning here?

Is there meaning here?I stare into spaceoblivious to allbut my own numbness,hoping for a call -a beckoning voiceto draw me backfrom the edgeof my self-imposed exile.Drop the feathery gauzefrom these old, battered lensesand push meif necessaryout of the warm nichecarved long agoin this mount of regret.

Flash Fiction – A Mother’s love

Alone in her mother’s house, she wandered the silent, lifeless rooms, looking for remnants of something she knew she would never find, as it had never actually existed. Yet, she still searched diligently for some secret token, some magical whisper, some buried acknowledgement that what she had always foolishly longed for and sought out just might have had even the slightest basis in reality. Unsurprisingly, in the end, she left empty-handed one last time.

Personal post – Worst disability of mine

As many of you know, I’ve had a bunch of health problems for a long time. Even as a kid I had chronic stomach, ear, and sinus issues. At 19, I developed my first chronic pain condition. My medical rap sheet is a mile long.

But, I’ve NEVER experienced anything as disabling as these chronic migraines I’ve had the past few years. Migraines up to 20+ days a month, and pretty much ALL DAY when I have them. The longest straight stretch was 9 days of migraines. I also get excruciating neck pain, vertigo, and nausea with the migraines. Perhaps the worst thing is that when I have them, I can’t read or write. I can’t watch tv. I can’t stand to be in the car. Even if I don’t have a migraine, a long drive will almost always guarantee I’ll develop one, so we plan very few getaways, even when we want, need, and can afford them. There is no escape. Just long days and nights laying in the dark silence, hoping to God the pain stops.

So far meds haven’t worked too well. Botox didn’t work. Tomorrow I try my first nerve block and I’m cautiously hopeful. Still, through it all, I try to remember how lucky I am that I don’t have to work, as I have no clue how I could ever hold down a job like this. I’m thankful that my husband is committed to taking care of me and loving me even when life sucks. I’m glad my kitties bring me a smile. I’m glad to have social media to vent to lol. Looking for things to be grateful for makes you feel better, even at your worst.

Flash fiction – Old man

Her old man died. She’d never forget that day. Coming into the house after canning peaches all day in the shed, and finding him laid out on the carpet, a halo of red surrounding his head. She’d known he had guns – had often felt safer and protected knowing they were within reach – but somehow, she had never considered their potential use for self-destruction. Now she wished that firearms had never been created.