[a moment] without hope

[moment 160]

I'm sitting here crying and I don't know why. 

But I do, but I don't. 

I'm just sad. And scared. And completely overwhelmed by murders and racism and queerphobia and hate. And by physical and emotional pain. By all of it. Everything hitting me all at once. 

Some days I just want to take a break from it all - from advocating for queer people and refugees/evacuees/immigrants and disabled people and ... and ... and... I need a break from chronic pain and chronic illness. 

I just need one day of my body and heart not being broken.

But I have queer children and I am queer; I am disabled and have children with chronic illnesses; I can't ignore the needs of my immigrant / evacuee / refugee neighbors; I can't turn a blind eye to mass shootings; I can't not do what I can to help. 

I'm sad because in this moment I feel like hope is too far away. 

So I take the pride flags out of my windows and pack them up. I'll need them to decorate our campsite to let everyone know they are welcome just as they are. I'll pack up our Ukraine flag and hope our "In Our America" flag arrives in time, so that for the two and a half weeks I'm inhabiting my campsite people will get the message that immigrants and refugees are welcome, black lives matter, women are in charge of their bodies, disabilities are respected, and so much more. 

I won't let hate drown out my hope.