My 30th Birthday
If you would like my thoughts/commentary on the significance of my 30th birthday, Feb. 3, 2016, keep reading:
For many years I did not know if I would, or whether I even wanted to, make it to see my 30th birthday. Turning 30 has long felt like a place in the emotional time – space continuum that is not entirely real, and so there is an element of disbelief that I am here. Since my late teens, pain and illness have been forces in my life that I never saw coming. Existing in this body and negotiating this rich and tumultuous relationship has been an education like no other, at once devastating my sense of self and illuminating my sense of purpose.What I felt a quality of life would look like in my early 20s – – a life free of my intractable disabilities, and of pain-disease, and in which I would revive the career path that I was on – – Is so very different from the life that I have pieced together now. But it is a life, full of much sweetness and brightness, largely due to the amazing people that I am blessed to share it with.
Ma’ayan all glammed up for her 30th birthday party
I generally do not find narratives of redemption useful when talking about pain and bodies — the hype of being a “survivor” undermining the experience of survival. The temptation and impulse to erase pain, to “move on”, is pervasive. In the many years I have spent struggling against my body and against myself, the intelligence of my bodies (complemented by no small measure of mischief) has shown me the importance of not vacating my body in an effort to get on with my “real” existence, and, rather, that there is no moving on, only moving deeper into. For this, and for so many other things, I wish to acknowledge, honor, and thank my bodies for bringing me this far in life and this far into myself.
I feel like I have been split open physically, emotionally, and spiritually so many times that I literally do not fit back together quite right – – yet, I am here! I am grateful to be entering this new decade with a sense of emotional and physical stability (and I am pleased to report that all of my recent medical tests reflect this). Contending with pain, grief, fear and shame on such deep, continual levels has changed how I live my life. Mourning my capacities and abilities and the losses is a complex and protracted kind of grief. My experiences with pain, depression, suicidality, and trauma are what have shown me how important it is to talk about my physical and mental health disabilities, and to do that difficult (and radical!) work of choosing to see others’ pain.I also want to acknowledge the significant transition I have been making, in moving away from my grassroots strategy and development work, that has been a central part of my life for over 15 years, and committing myself to my pain activism and education work, and the writing of my book, which is about changing how we think about pain/pain as a social justice issue. I am proud of my achievements helping grassroots people and organizations serving marginalized, and often stigmatized, populations to be safer and more fulfilled in their bodies. There is so much that I have learned in the process of guiding these organizations. I feel incredibly privileged to have been able to witness the power, determination, strength, and willingness to be seen and to be vulnerable. This fuels my motivation as I move forward into my own work.
It should go without saying – – but of course it is always worth saying!!! – – That I am so fortunate to have the love and support of the people in my life, as well as the greater forces that guide me. I have spent much time in my life feeling very alone and very separate, and although this still persists as a struggle, the difference is that now I do have access to the support and understanding that I am worth it. I recognize that loving someone in pain, which is to say everyone to some degree, is not always easy or rewarding. I appreciate the perseverance and the forgiveness of those in my life whom I have hurt when I have been in pain. There is such wisdom in the love you have shown me, and the love that I have been privileged to share with you. Thank you.
What better time than this stormy season to come together and honor our pain and grief and celebrate the magic and light that is part of all of us.