It’s odd because thinking I have hypochondriasis is part of the problem, right? I assume that’s more serious (and medicalization erects another border), that’s a defined condition, that’s a condition. Something for which I must qualify.
Author: maxw91
Sickness and Body Borders
There was a week, once, where I slept near a big glowing cross, and the light shone sideways through thick panes patterned with a wiry crosshatch. The sheets smelled like sickness and clean, and at night you could see the Domino Sugar sign–big for a billion miles away.
A Politics of Tension, Pain, and Embodied Storytelling (Short Story)
(tw: racial slurs, street harassment/assault[?])
And so, I’m driving West on Route 40, feeling like I belong in Baltimore. It’s maybe ten on a Friday night, and about two hundred yards before I am to pass them, I see maybe a dozen kids of color on the median strip. Teenagers. My body tensed, as it’d learned to.
Unruly Bodies 