Still seeing in the dark.

Title: Fighting for Our Future, Celebrating Our Moments It’s been a little while since I’ve posted here, but I haven’t been quiet. I’ve been fighting. I’ve been sharing updates about the devastating Medicaid cuts that threaten the lives and independence of so many disabled people like me. I’ve spoken out online, written to my elected officials, and urged others to sign and share my petition. I’ve made sure my voice is heard because too many people in power want to silence or ignore people like us. Medicaid is not a luxury—it’s a lifeline. Even when it gets overwhelming, I keep pushing forward. But sometimes, moments of joy come along to remind me why I fight so hard—for freedom, for family, for love, and for the everyday experiences we all deserve. This past week has been filled with those moments. A Birthday and a Boil My sister Trenace’s birthday fell right on the Fourth of July this year, and we celebrated her in a big way—with a full seafood boil after a day of good compa...

💭 Anger vs. Self-Pity — What I’ve Been Thinking About 💭 A long time ago, I saw a movie about a 12-year-old boy who was training for the Olympics. He was doing great—until one day he ran into the street while playing with friends and got hit by a fast-moving car. He survived, but ended up in a wheelchair. He had to relearn everything: how to move, how to live. He wasn’t brain-injured—just physically disabled—but the emotional toll was heavy. A therapist came to his house to help with rehab. But the boy was stuck in deep frustration and grief. He didn’t want to do the exercises. He kept yelling things like, “I can’t! I can’t! I won’t! Don’t you understand?! I can’t do it!” Eventually, the therapist got angry too. She snapped and told him she wasn’t going to put up with any more of his self-pity. She told him he was going to do it. She wasn’t going to let him give up. That scene really stayed with me. And it made me think about myself. I never felt sorry for myself—not in tha...

🌟 Disability Representation Throwback — What Really Stuck With Me 🌟 This morning’s response to my posts has really touched me. I’ve been thinking about how powerful it is when people see you— really see you—for who you are. And for me, a lot of that started with something unexpected: Sesame Street . As a blind person, I didn’t always feel represented growing up. But on Sesame Street , I saw people like Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder—two blind musicians who showed up with pride, joy, and talent. I saw kids with cerebral palsy and Down syndrome, a little girl who used sign language, even Big Bird learning how to talk to a child with autism. And it wasn’t just the guest stars—it was the grownups on the show who took the time to learn how to include disabled people , to speak with kindness and understanding. That left an imprint on me. It made me feel like maybe—just maybe— I belonged, too. I remember characters like Mr. Johnson at Charlie's Restaurant getting overwhelmed and...