Thirty-four

thirty-four

bday comics: thirty-three

AN: I have an acquired brain injury, and always have a lot of feels about it on my birthday! so, disability bday comics are now a thing :)

[ID: a ten panel comic drawn in simple black ink with messily drawn borders.

One - I sit cross-legged on a sofa with an open laptop in front of me. Text reads: "And what do you do for work?" "I'm on disability." "Oh. And is it permanent?" "I mean. It's been over four years since my mTBI."

Two - Frame zooms in showing just my torso and chin. Text: "So yeah, probably."

Three - I sit forward on the couch with elbows on knees and chin resting on folded hands and sigh. It shows my whole body. I am a white non-binary person with a curly mullet, glasses, and wearing a t-shirt and ripped jeans. Text: The doctor calls me "dear" as she ends the call. It's been a long year."

Four - I stand and walk away. The image shows just my legs and the couch behind me. Text: When I first got injured, permanency was the scariest possibility. The idea of a lifetime of pain and fatigue made survival feel impossible.

Five - I stand holding a cupboard open, my back to the viewer. The open cupboard shows that it's very full of mugs and tea supplies. Text: It's not so scary, anymore. And it no longer feels just like surviving.

Six - A close up shot of a kettle steaming. Text: There's still grief, trapped under my ribcage. But I think there always will be. I've had to put away so many dreams, said goodbye to who I once was.

Seven - Close up shot showing hot water being poured from the kettle into a handmade mug. Text reads: But in the space left empty, new things have grown. New hopes. New dreams. New understandings of myself.

Eight - Close up shot of my hands holding a steaming mug of tea. Text: This injury might be permanent - but it might not be. No one really knows for sure. I love my life. I love my body, and my brain, all the messy disabled parts of it.

Nine - A full shot showing me sitting on my sofa again, and holding a large blanket out in front of me, as if getting ready to wrap it over my legs. Text: If this is the rest of my life, then what a gift to live it. I'm not done growing, hoping, grieving, healing. Still trying, and trying, and trying.

Ten - I sit on my sofa with the blanket wrapped over my legs, leaning against a cushion. I am sketching in a ringed book held on my lap, and my tea mug rests on the blanket beside the book. I am smiling slightly and look content. On the wall behind me is a quilted progress pride flag. Text: It's messy, complicated, and beautiful. But isn't that what life is?

The comic is signed h. graves '23. End ID.]