Fighting for our future, Celebrational moments.

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 company and summer heat. We had crab legs, fish, shrimp, rice, and corn on the cob. It was delicious and comforting, full of flavor and family laughter. We followed it up with karaoke, where we all sang together. Everyone got in on the fun, and even though I couldn’t see the TV screen showing the lyrics, I could still feel the energy and hear the joy. That’s what matters.

Fireworks and Floating Colors

Later that night, after 9 PM, fireworks popped and cracked outside my window. I couldn’t see them, but I could definitely feel them. The sounds were sharp and booming, each one making the house vibrate in a way I’ve always loved. Fireworks, unlike silent light shows, include me. They’re not just something to look at—they reach out through sound and sensation, giving me a chance to celebrate too.

As the sounds of celebration echoed outside, I saw bright flashes of color in my mind: soft yellows stringing themselves across a hazy gray background, like floating lights. I often experience color this way—internally, like a vision painted on the inside of my mind. They don’t come from outside light or images, but from somewhere deeper, somewhere within. Sometimes, I see whiteish-blue shades spread across like a blank screen, or bold purples and reds at unexpected times. During the Fourth of July, those colors danced in and out of my awareness, making the whole night feel alive in a way that was mine and real.

Pool Day Joy

Not long before that, we had a pool day with the whole family. The weather was perfect for it, and everyone was smiling, laughing, and enjoying the moment. I may not be able to see in the way others do, but I feel everything—sun on my skin, the water's movement, the energy around me. My body knows joy even if my eyes are gone. My ears may have hearing loss, but the happy voices and splashing still reached me clearly. That day reminded me how full life can be when we’re surrounded by love and supported in ways that let us live freely.

Why I Keep Going

That’s why I speak out. That’s why I advocate. That’s why I fight. Because these everyday experiences—family meals, birthday songs, pool days, fireworks—are what we all deserve. And we can’t have them if our rights are stripped away. We can’t enjoy them if we’re left to fight alone.

So I’ll keep using my voice. And I’m asking you to join me. If you haven’t already, please sign and share my petition to stop the Medicaid cuts. Let’s protect each other. Let’s lift each other up—just like my family lifted me during this joyful week.

Even in a world where my vision is internal, I still see beauty. I still see light. I still see a future worth fighting for.

🧡 #StopTheCuts #DisabilityRightsAreHumanRights #MedicaidMatters

  

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