I thought you needed this. by Jenny Lawson (thebloggess)
It might be my compulsive thoughts talking, but here goes. Read on Substack
Dear friend,
This is the last week of October and so I drew you a Halloweeny sketch but then Sunday I had this really weird thought that someone out there needed to hear something specific and so I drew it up and thought I’d share it next week but my very compulsive mind is telling me that I need to post it now. This might just be my OCD winning but I also believe in following your gut, so next week you’ll get my Halloween drawing WAY AFTER HALLOWEEN and I’m so sorry I’m like this.
But…maybe you’re the person who needs to hear this today…
it’s going to be okay. I love you. You are doing amazing.
The world is hard at times and we’re all fighting so many battles, but you’re doing so much better than you think. You are making differences in the lives of people in ways you’ll probably never see. It’s easy to let the darkness around us overshadow the light, but your shine is integral. It may be impossible for your own eyes to recognize the glow you bring, but it is so gorgeously obvious to so many others.
“I can’t always keep the rain away. But I’ll always share my umbrella.”
OK, so we’ve posted about this here at least a couple of times, and now we’re in the week where people will not be receiving benefits on which they depend, to eat. Here’s one more story. And, yes, this is a particular cause of mine, so I want to note that I’ve been looking around town to see where I might be able to help out should this come to fruition, as it appears to be doing. My posting may be sparser, because trying to help people get enough to eat will take up more time now. But, as we’ve also written here, building and sustaining community is important during times such as those we in the US find ourselves, and for me, helping people get enough to eat is sustaining community. So, while I’ll still be around, I may not post as often; the energy only goes so far. Here’s today’s AP story:
The new notice comes after the Trump administration said it would not tap roughly $5 billion in contingency funds to keep benefits through the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, commonly referred to as SNAP, flowing into November. That program helps about 1 in 8 Americans buy groceries.
“Bottom line, the well has run dry,” the USDA notice says. “At this time, there will be no benefits issued November 01. We are approaching an inflection point for Senate Democrats.”
The shutdown, which began Oct. 1, is now the second-longest on record. While the Republican administration took steps leading up to the shutdown to ensure SNAP benefits were paid this month, the cutoff would expand the impact of the impasse to a wider swath of Americans — and some of those most in need — unless a political resolution is found in just a few days.
The administration blames Democrats, who say they will not agree to reopen the government until Republicans negotiate with them on extending expiring subsidies under the Affordable Care Act. Republicans say Democrats must first agree to reopen the government before negotiation.
Democratic lawmakers have written to Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins requesting to use contingency funds to cover the bulk of next month’s benefits.
Government shutdown The AP has journalists around the country covering the shutdown of the federal government. What questions do you have for them?
But a USDA memo that surfaced Friday says “contingency funds are not legally available to cover regular benefits.” The document says the money is reserved for such things such as helping people in disaster areas.
It cited a storm named Melissa, which has strengthened into a major hurricane, as an example of why it’s important to have the money available to mobilize quickly in the event of a disaster.
Some states have pledged to keep SNAP benefits flowing even if the federal program halts payments, but there are questions about whether U.S. government directives may allow that to happen. The USDA memo also says states would not be reimbursed for temporarily picking up the cost.
Other states are telling SNAP recipients to be ready for the benefits to stop. Arkansas and Oklahoma, for example, are advising recipients to identify food pantries and other groups that help with food.
Sen. Chris Murphy, D-Conn., accused Republicans and Trump of not agreeing to negotiate.
“The reality is, if they sat down to try to negotiate, we could probably come up with something pretty quickly,” Murphy said Sunday on CNN’s “State of the Union.” “We could open up the government on Tuesday or Wednesday, and there wouldn’t be any crisis in the food stamp program.”
If you listen to the GOP, they will tell you this shutdown is the fault of the Dems. In a sense, they are correct. The Dems aren’t allowing the budget to go forward without ACA Healthcare Subsidies. They tell us that they will be more than happy to discuss the topic once the budget is signed. This is analogous to “…the beatings will continue until morale improves…”, and asks the Dems to give up the only tool they have to stop the gop’s continuing efforts to destroy the ACA and have the suffering of millions of people who don’t get their healthcare insurance from their employers or their personal wealth. The goopy is lying to us all, again, still, and the damn fools who routinely vote against their own personal interests believe them. Again. Still.
Simply said: The goopy ones have believed the lies because it is more important to them to believe the lies than to put out the effort to look further into the issues. They value the shared identity and emotional tickle of “getting the libs” over their own needs, their own health, and even the care of the community’s children.
I visited Southern California last June. I got to hang out with friends. I ate fish tacos and sushi. I went to the beach, and I got to walk on the Oceanside boardwalk. I saw pelicans and sea lions. I had a great time. You might remember this. But near the end of this trip, I started to suffer from some shoulder pain. I thought it was just a pinched nerve, probably from sleeping on a teenage girl’s bed. No, she was not in the bed at the same time. She was in Ireland. The pain lasted for a few days, but vanished after I had gotten back to Virginia.
I had a pretty good summer. I went to the National Cartoonist Society’s convention in Boston for just an afternoon. I visited New York City for a few days, and I saw my good friend Alexandra. I went to the annual convention of the Association of American Editorial Cartoonists outside of Washington, DC, and I won the Rex Babin Award for Excellence in Local Cartooning. It may have been the best time I’ve ever had at one of our conventions.
Next on my agenda was a trip to Europe. I was going to visit Berlin, then fly to Sweden, then take a train and visit Copenhagen, then Hamburg, and then Amsterdam, where I was going to visit the Van Gogh Museum. I was going to spend a night in Brussels, then spend a few extra days in Paris, and see the Louvre. I was going to wrap up my trip by revisiting old friends in London and Dublin. And a week before this European trip, my shoulder started to hurt again.
I thought the pinched nerve had come back. On Monday, October 6, the pain came back with a vengeance. The shoulder pain from June was no comparison to the pain I had two weeks ago. While the pain was brutal, it didn’t stop me from getting down on my hands and knees and cleaning my toilet because my Landlady and a plumber were coming to my apartment the next day. By Thursday, with my European trip just four days away, I thought there was no way I could go jet-setting with this sort of pain. I was still thinking about Europe that morning, but by that afternoon, I was thinking about the hospital.
The pain was at its worst on Thursday. I took some aspirin in the morning, and a couple of hours later, I took some ibuprofen. I worked on the day’s cartoon, not knowing it would be my last for a while. But a point came where I just had to lie down, even before my cartoon was done. I lay down for a short while, and when I got up, I noticed I was a little lightheaded. When I walked to the bathroom, my hands were along the walls so I wouldn’t fall. I finished my cartoon and realized that I was having a hard time putting the Apple Pencil where I wanted it to go. It was about this time that I started to think about the hospital.
I was in the mode of thinking that the hospital was kind of silly. I Googled about my shoulder pain, and I saw that it could be a symptom of a stroke. I thought, “Not on the right side, right?” Yes, even on the right side.
I decided to eat something first because I didn’t know when I would get a chance to eat again. I started to make some Chef Boyardee, which I don’t like at all, but I just needed to get something in my system. And I realized then that my right leg wasn’t really working. I could stand and I could walk, but I was kind of dragging my leg. A few hours later at the hospital, my entire right side pretty much collapsed.
I have a lot of friends here in Fredericksburg, but I thought of who would get me to the hospital the quickest. I thought about who would come running right away. Who would come running when I cried? I thought Melisa Casacuberta would be the quickest. I sent Melisa a message, simply asking if she could do me a favor and take me to the emergency room. I didn’t tell her why. She was at my house within 10 minutes. First, I had to navigate my stairs, which I did while having both hands on the handrails. I live above a restaurant, and as I stood outside waiting for Melissa, I leaned against a pillar, pretending to be Joe Cool as customers walked past me.
I live close to the hospital, so it didn’t take long to get there. I packed my iPhone, MacBook, and iPad (I was thinking I could still draw some cartoons) with me in my backpack. The security guard at the hospital made me walk through security three times because something in my backpack kept making the metal detector go off. Never mind, I was having a stroke. I didn’t sit and wait in the waiting room as the staff saw me immediately. Within minutes, I was in an MRI.
Yup. I had a stroke.
As you probably already know, I am now at the rehab center. Each day is filled with physical therapy as well as what you might call mental therapy. When I’m not in therapy, and I’m lying in my bed, I am working on some of my therapy. Today was Sunday, and I was supposed to have it off from therapy, but one of the trainers, one I had never worked with before, came in and asked if I wanted a workout anyway. She said she had some time and asked some of the other trainers who she could work with, and she was told I was pretty much good to go. She kicked my ass.
It bothers me that yesterday was No Kings Day, and I didn’t get to do anything with it. Several of my friends, even a few who visited me here, like Melissa Colombo, participated. I have cartoon ideas every day, and it kills me that I’m not drawing them. I wonder if there are any cartoonists out there who would actually want to use my ideas? Not that I would give them to them.
I think from this point that I should start blogging about news instead of just about myself. I don’t want to be a broken record. I am already a broken human. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to write about the stroke anymore, but I need to start writing about the attack the fascists on this country. I have time to think of the columns when the nurses forget I’m in the bathroom. Yes, they do that.
The columns are still hard to write as I am doing them by dictating into the MacBook microphone and typing with one finger. If you see any mistakes or boogers, you’re just gonna have to live with them, like boogers. That was a boo-boo.
I’ll leave you with something funny I’ll leave you with something funny.
One of my trainers is very serious. I have yet to hear him laugh. He is a nice guy, and he’s not strict. I just don’t think he laughs.
Yesterday. I was in a session, and I was walking in the gym. This requires a lot of concentration while I am walking. The trainer is right in front of me, and usually, there’s another trainer right behind me with the wheelchair ready for me to fall into it.
There are usually several trainers and patients in the gym at the same time. I could hear one trainer talking to his patient while we were walking, and he asked the patient what his favorite food was. The patient said his favorite food was baloney sandwiches. I looked at my trainer while I was walking and said, “Baloney sandwiches? Bleah!” I finally made my trainer laugh.
This is Melissa Colombo. She has been a godsend. She has checked my apartment, briefed my insistent Roomba, brought me clothes so I would not walk around here with my ass hanging out, checked my mail, taken out my garbage, thrown spoiled food out of my fridge, visited me in rehab, and has even done some of my laundry.
Growing up as someone who is different from the majority is difficult no matter the circumstances. For the LGBTQ+ it is horrific when just your very existence is called an abomination and you are equated with the worst being in history. Especially when your parents and your god are pushing the idea that you are a monster who can only be cured if you follow their god, their church doctrines, have their feelings about everything in your life. Hugs.
A guest essay by Sean Robinson – Spencer’s boyfriend.
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When I was around 10 years old, I remember horsing around in the grass with my oldest brother. I asked him the meaning of homosexuality, a word that I had heard from my parents and from the New Order Amish and Mennonite communities I was surrounded by growing up in upstate New York and rural Virginia.
Sean and his dad Upstate New York. Photo courtesy of Sean.
While I wasn’t certain what the word meant, I knew it was bad and I was pretty sure it was me. So when my brother responded to my question by saying that homosexuality is “demonic,” I pushed those thoughts down.
A few years later, my dad told me that once someone becomes a homosexual, they will “want more and more and more” and it will lead to a sexual desire for “children, then animals, then blood.”
Sean and his dad through the years. Photos courtesy of Sean.
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Hearing these ideas persistently and consistently made me feel like there was this horrible thing inside of me that I just hated. I had learned that it was akin to being a pedophile, and that’s how I felt about myself.
These feelings created so much shame and fear but most of all a level of embarrassment that was so intense that I vowed to myself I would take my secret to the grave.
Sean and his parents. Photo courtesy of Sean.
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But I didn’t. When I met just one gay person at Danville Community College, I felt a small but significant rumbling of hope. This encounter gave me the courage to leave. So at 17, I told my parents I was moving to New York City to pursue the performing arts.
While I was semi-interested in being on screen, I saw NYC as a symbol of a new life where I could be my authentic self. A few months after I moved, I came out to my mom over the phone, who later told me—through a puddle of tears—that I might as well have died in a car accident.
I had to dig to make a life for myself with few people in my corner. I utilized NYC social programs like SNAP benefits, free health care and low-income housing. These services gave me the bootstraps I needed to pull myself up.
The years of familial and community rejection and efforts to change me through conversion therapy took more than two decades of treatment, medication and supportive friendships to help me find a formula where today—at 40 years old—I can manage my depression, anxiety, tics (that were at one point debilitating), no-contact relationship with my parents and low self-esteem.
I am so grateful to the heroes who helped me through these years: Paul Warner, Jerry Meadors and countless others. You lifted me up, taught me the ropes, allowed me to couch surf and showered me with love.
Sean in his teens. Photo courtesy of Sean.
Fighting the demons of my past, including years of religious trauma and physical abuse disguised as “corporal punishment,” is something I’d wish on nobody. When I read Uncloseted stories that discuss how nearly 40% of LGBTQ kids seriously considered suicide in the last year, my heart breaks because I know that could have been me if my path had veered a degree in a different direction.
Sean with Spencer and his psychiatric service dog Carson. Photo courtesy of Sean.
Flash forward 20 years and I’m sitting next to Spencer, who’s helping shine a spotlight on the very thing I tried to suppress in the darkness of my mind. I am now a video editor at MTV, working on RuPaul’s Drag Race, the groundbreaking television show that has helped so many queer kids across America feel seen and feel safe—something every child deserves.
I’ve always been resilient and tough.
But finally, I feel calm and free.
Response from Sean’s Dad:
In a text message to Uncloseted Media, Sean’s dad, Chris Robinson, wrote that he remembers saying that “when the moral fabric of societies begin to decay it usually starts with the sin of not acknowledging Almighty God, the Giver and Sustainer of life. [If] that condition of man continues then more sin comes [including] adultery, fornication and general unfaithfulness. The next level is men allowing women and children to rule. This would have been the feminist movement of the 60’s. Next comes homosexuality then bestiality and finishing up with child and adult sacrifice and much shedding of blood. This progression is recorded in Genesis and through the Chronicles and Kings in the Bible.”
In response to Sean’s references to corporal punishment, his dad wrote that he remembers being “shocked at [Sean’s] fearless defiance to [his] authority … as being the one responsible for order in the home” and that he would punish him—after multiple verbal warnings for misbehavior—by giving him “4 or 5 good licks with the switch and [would then] give him a hug and prayer and hope he got the message.” His dad added that he and Sean had many good times too and that he “still shed[s] a tear at times in memory of [his] little Seany.”
Response from Sean’s Mom:
In a text message to Uncloseted Media, Sean’s mom, Michelle Robinson, does not remember telling Sean after he came out that he might as well have died in a car accident. “My mind is blank for anything specific,” she wrote.
In response to Sean’s reference to corporal punishment, his mom says that out of the hundred times where corporal punishment was administered correctly through biblical spanking done with love, there were “a handful of times when his father admits he acted more in anger as [an] immediate reaction because of Sean’s behavior and he realizes he should’ve done that differently [and that his dad] always immediately apologized and they always had special time together and they worked through that.”
“We believed in honoring God with our life. We were not perfect but our heart was to please God,” she wrote, adding that Sean was treated with love as a child and through adulthood.
Sean’s brother did not respond to Uncloseted Media’s request for comment.
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