#5 Reasons To Keep Going

On plodding along, boredom and things to read and do

When I started writing Reasons To Keep Going, the emphasis was definitely on the Reasons part of that sentence. Put simply, I needed concrete examples of why it was important to stay alive. I was severely depressed, self-harming, hadn’t yet had therapy or medication introduced to my life. I had had the homophobia, the death threats and an autism diagnosis that had rocked my teen years. Even when I was being successful, it was a case of being brilliant in public and falling apart at home.

Now, aged twenty-three, it feels like my life is spent plodding along. It’s the keeping going that is the operative part. It’s stable, but dull. I’ve realised in recent weeks that the pandemic took away a lot of the spaces in which I am my best self: speaking on stages, hosting and speaking on live panels, networking, book launches and the like. Although things have steadily come back, I’ve not come back with them.

Once upon a time, I was known as a youth activist during a time when overnight the world became obsessed with Gen Z, but that label doesn’t really fit anymore; if anything, it often makes me feel uncomfortable because of how teenage campaigners are fetishised by those with the power to make meaningful changes but who won’t. Giving a fuck shouldn’t be an anomaly. Caring about disabled people and LGBTQ+ shouldn’t be radical.

I keep telling myself that I’ve done loads: bought a flat, written a 19k word book proposal, got a job I adore followed by a promotion, have delivered training to organisations and individuals on every continent (bless the power of Zoom), supported family through grief, made so many new friends and have a much better self-care routine. I know these things are not nothing, but I’m still bored. Or at the very least, stagnated.

My brain works incredibly quickly, so these quieter months like August do me in a little bit, especially when they are this hot and slow. Everything feels claustrophobic and lethargic. I’m still waiting for my flat to go through (that’s a story for another day), and am bouncing between houses pet-sitting to avoid being stuck in my hometown. I’ve got a banging proposal and have started working on a book anyway but need to find an agent. I’ve got grand plans and projects but don’t know where to start. I’m even frustrated with my wardrobe and there’s an alarming temptation to throw everything out and start again.

I know that I personally need no fewer than six projects to keep my mind from imploding on itself (thanks, neurodivergence). I’ve often joked that I work to relax, but I suspect it’s just that the things I enjoy and that I’m good at - from spreadsheets to networking - turn up most frequently in professional or semi-professional environments. I’m still in awe at people who can plan parties or know how to dance at a club - for me, that’s like asking me to do quantum mechanics (which for the record, you should ask my little brother to do).

Admittedly, writing all of this feels harder than talking about when I’ve been thoroughly depressed. Perhaps because we’ve become accustomed to hearing about people’s traumas and tribulations online, maybe because it sounds ungrateful that despite everything being good for me right now, something is off. But it still feel like something is missing right now, something I can’t quite place. And maybe that’s okay, maybe I just need to keep plodding along until I find what I’m looking for.

One of the pieces I’m most proud of came out this week all about the UK’s problem with transphobia and why Rishi Sunak doesn’t have a clue.

I adore Ocean Vuong and I adore The GAYLETTER, so this interview was an absolute delight to have pop up in my inbox and was then heart-wrenching to read.

This ICU Photo Essay by the legend Alice Wong, founder of the Disability Visibility Project is an utterly gut-wrenching account of what it is like to go through medical crises as a disabled person in America in 2022. The line ‘I have suffered many losses but I still have a deep capacity for joy and pleasure.’ broke me. There is currently a fundraiser to ensure that Alice can stay living in the community and not become institutionalised. Please donate what you can - I can’t actually put into words how much Alice means to so many of us within the disabled community.

If you’re in the area (or if you’re not but fancy a trip to the seaside, Lindsey Mendick’s exhibition Off With Her Head is an astonishing exhibition. Never have I so much wished that I was rich just so I could buy her work. It’s weird (the highest of compliments, coming from me), feminist and I even got away with swinging around the installations’s a pole-dancing pole in front of my mother without her even batting an eyelid because she was too busy looking at the ceramic tables made out of disembowelled, naked, headless women. It’s free entry but even if it weren’t I’d pay lots to go back.

And that’s that. I’m off to watch Miss Congeniality with the family and resist the urge to write about how Sandra Bullock is clearly playing a dyspraxic lesbian….

About me: I’m Ellen, the writer of this weekly newsletter. I’m a queer, autistic twenty-something trying to survive & (hopefully) thrive in a world I am seemingly always at odds with. I work as a cultural strategist, consultant and writer focusing on building inclusion and equity for LGBTQ+ people and disabled people across the globe. You can also follow me on Instagram where I post regular resources.