Have you ever flopped down on a worn leather armchair with a seat so deep and broken you sink right into the floor? The kind of chair that envelops you totally and requires a great effort to heave yourself out of? Today was a relentless cycle of getting up out of this cavernous chair and being shoved back into it, over and over and over and over and over again. First, allow me to acknowledge that sleep is necessary for survival. Without it your entire existence will teeter on the edge of hallucination. Second, I’d like to reiterate how challenging it is not to be able to ask for certain daily-life accommodations as a pregnant person, and how much having to use the excuse of being “sick” to explain your pregnancy symptoms feels like betrayal.
Today was the day that I began to share this project with others. It’s also the day that the Facebook conglomerate took a virtual shit on me. They don’t want to make this experience too easy I guess. Post after post about this project was removed from all pages without explanation, the social network effectively filtering content to the benefit of one subjective viewpoint. Is conversation about abortion truly worse than someone posting “LMFAO” alongside a video of racist police violence? Who benefits from censoring abortion? Why do I have any standards or expectations of Facebook to begin with? Am I a threat to society?
(I hope so)
I can’t think about the day anymore. It feels like someone is ringing out a wet rag inside of my stomach and I have one-ton eyelids. I’m going deep tonight.