dispatch from collapse: feeling ready

i’ve officially been off work for 7 weeks and while i feel like words and thoughts and feelings (so many feeeeelings) are sloshing around in me, i absolutely have nothing coherent or new to offer: still ill, still lounging around the house, still fucking raging about capitalism. here is some stream of consciousness word-vomit about that:

i had a meeting with HR and my very supportive boss today to discuss a plan to return to work (i can barely even type that sentence). my boss, bless her, asked me how i’m feeling. lol. the last month has not provided me with any more clarity to answer that question. i still feel both totally fine enough and also terrible. i still have an anaerobic heart rate when i go to the grocery store and can barely hold my camera because it’s too heavy and it’s also true that i am having a perfectly fine time at home and can almost fully manage my symptoms without much distress.

i don’t know how to explain to people that it’s not actually the *illness* that is difficult for me. when i’m home and pacing appropriately and keeping my heart rate under 130 bpm, i have kind of a nice, if quieter than i prefer, life. like sure plant care is my work out most days and sometimes i can’t hold the book i’m reading but my mood is good and i’m not debilitated. the thing that’s actually difficult is trying to survive under capitalism.

short-term disability benefits can run up to 13 weeks where i work (maybe this is a standard thing? i don’t know). my boss, bless her, reminded me today that they really only want me to come back to work when i’m feeling ready to come back to work. but, from where i’m standing at 7 weeks off work, i don’t see any scenario where i’ll be “ready to come back to work” before those 13 weeks is up. i told my boss today that i will plan to pull my pants up and return to work (part-time) on May 3rd- the end of the 13 week leave period- whether i am ready to or not. because bills still have to be fucking paid even if i’m still ill and healing doesn’t happen inside the short-term disability window.

meanwhile, my body has been very clear with me in it’s absolute refusal to participate in work. i said to a fellow disabled friend yesterday that the level of bodily refusal to even entertain the *idea* of work feels so strong that i actually feel like i will be abusing myself if/when i have to return to work. i was raised by stubborn people; nobody tells us if we can work or not. how else do you prove your merit in the world but for working far too much for far too long after your body is worn out? my people are the kind of people that have major surgery and then go back to work against medical advice. so this bodily rejection of work is new for me. historically, when i didn’t feel like working, i just…. went to work anyway? now, my body threatens to kidnap me and hold me hostage anytime i open indeed dot com. i don’t have the words for this experience. my body no longer cares about what is expected of me by society, about how my bills can’t get paid while i’m cackling through Samantha Irby’s newest book, or about any obligations or guilt i feel toward my job. my body is like “fuck all of that noise” to every needling negotiation i attempt to make with it. i am no longer in control of this body; it is in control of me.

and my sense is that MANY of our bodies are reaching this point. a year of pandemic living has revealed just how much our bodies can bear and, also, the very finite end of what we can bear no longer. people are tired and our bodies will not be forced against their wills any longer. we are ALL long overdue for a transformation of our working conditions and our bodies know this. your body might not have reached outright mutiny the way mine has but it will, give it time.

and yet. the transformation of our working conditions is still the future we’re building, not the future we’re living in. we live in a society that does everything in its power (and it has a LOT of power over us) to force people to labor and, if you can’t labor, you might as well be punted into the sun because we are certainly not providing you income or basic needs. at least being punted into the sun sounds overall easier than trying to play phone tag with the disability insurance company that still hasn’t gotten my medical records 8 weeks later.

so. i’m gonna go back to work against every mitochondria in my body until either 1) i can figure out how to survive differently and drop out of capitalism altogether or 2) society collapses enough that credit card payments and gas bills cease to be more important than our personal and collective health. i’m rooting for whichever comes first. //

i can be found ranting on Twitter @colocha_rachel. you can see my dogs and my houseplants on Instagram @colocha_rachel.