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Crip Dyke's avatar

Every time Robyn gives us another tough piece about homelessness and dammit we need to fix this, I'm always tempted to write something personal up.

I have mental illness. Serious neuropsych mental illness. I've seen some of the best specialists in Canada and a few pretty good ones in Oregon. There's a reason I've never practiced law and it's not because I didn't perform well in my classes.

And I fool all of you b/c I get to turn on the computer exactly when I want, read only what I want, say only what I want. I don't have to set boundaries or fear you'll cross them because the lid of this laptop closes. But as badly as I've wanted to visit a Wonkmeet sometimes, I've never done it, and the reasons for that are the same as the ones for why I don't practice law.

The point of all this, if there is one, is that mental illness doesn't have to look like you think it does. And if you're not lucky enough to have a stable family before it becomes too much, then death or homelessness quickly become the only options, and they don't always look that dissimilar.

So if you don't know what homelessness looks like, and you find it hard to relate -- maybe not hard to empathize, but hard to relate, hard to understand -- you can always picture your friendly, neighbourhood Crip Dyke in a world where she had just one fewer friend.

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Crip Dyke's avatar

Okay, I'm calling it Passover here. Happy holidays & a sweet Passover to all celebrating.

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